Chapter Three
Prime
The clubhouse felt different.
Quieter.
Tenser.
Like the walls were listening.
The guys weren’t saying it, but everyone was thinking it: if the killer had killed Bernice and hurt Bob, then he’d been close.
Too close.
I didn’t like that.
I didn’t like a lot of things lately.
I sat outside Shay’s door and leaned back in the shitty wooden chair I’d dragged there the night before.The hallway was narrow and dim, tucked away from the noise of the main room.
The door behind me creaked a little, and my hand dropped to the knife at my thigh before I realized.
Of course.
It was her.
“Prime?”Her voice was small.Tired, but not broken.
Not yet.
I straightened and opened the door an inch.“Yeah?”
Her eyes peeked through the crack.“Can I… come out?I’m not trying to roam or anything.I just… if I lie there any longer, my brain’s going to start inventing problems.”
It was half past two, and I thought she had been sleeping.Obviously not.
“You hungry?”I asked.
She nodded.“Maybe.”
“Thirsty?”
“I could go for a drink.”
“Lightheaded?”
She made a face.“Do I look like someone who faints easily?”
“You look like someone who overthinks easily.”
Her mouth dropped open.“I don’t overthink.”
“You just said you were.”
She huffed.“I’m going to go sit on the couch in the common room before you say something else insulting.”
I opened the door all the way and stood.She brushed by me, and even though she didn’t touch me, I still felt it.The air shifted around her.Warmer.Sharper.
