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“Well, I hope so!” I laugh her off, averting my eyes from Bishop and his intense gaze. “All things considered.”
She smiles. “So have you heard from Tatum?”
“Yeah.” I lean forward. “She texted me the other night. She’s fine… just same old Tatum. I’ll text her and tell her we’ll be back tomorrow.” She takes a stand from the log and my hand goes out to her. “Seriously, Tillie, just be careful, okay? I love him; don’t get me wrong. He and I… we grew close quite quickly, and although he has done some questionable things to me, I know he wouldn’t intentionally hurt me.”
“I know, Madi. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
An arm wraps around my waist and I grin, knowing who it belongs to. Tillie smirks too and then winks at me. “Seems we’re both going to be a little busy tonight.” Then she walks back to Nate, who is waiting for her with open arms. They’re so cute, yet different. Nate, though… I don’t know. He’s never had a relationship before, according to everyone I’ve talked to, so that worries me. It worries me that I can feel he’s going to do something bad to fuck things up with this girl one day, but I know for a fact I will be there for both of them.
“Come on.” Bishop nudges his head, a bottle of Macallan in his hand. I stand, wiping the dirt off the back of my pants just as Pretty Ricky’s “Get You Right” starts playing on the sound dock, floating through the dark forest and hidden behind the laughs and drunken slurs of my friends. Yeah, friends. Some weird friendship we all have going on. “I wanna show you something.”
“Oh?” I prompt, settling into his step and snuggling into the warmth under his arm. “Another firefly night?”
He smirks. “Not quite.” We head farther and farther away from the group and toward the back of the cottage, until darkness floats all around me. He pulls out a mini flashlight from his pocket and turns it on, shining it toward an overgrown bush area. “Come on.”
“What?” I ask in disbelief. “In there?”
Shining the light under his chin, he nods. “Yeah, in there,” he whispers scarily.
I shove him. “Can you try to not be like, the boogie man?”
That earns me a throaty laugh. “Baby, I’m much worse than the boogie man.”
“How so?” I follow him anyway.
“Easy, the boogie man isn’t real.” He runs his rough fingertips over the inside of my thighs, dragging them over the zipper of my short shorts, and rubbing my clit through the denim material. “Feel that, baby?” he whispers into my ear. “That’s real, and that’s how I’m much, much worse than the fucking boogie man.”
My breath catches in my throat, but I swallow through it. “You’re such a fucking dick.”
“Yes, but I have a fucking monster one.” He yanks me, so I quicken my steps. “Come on.”
“Where’re we going?” I ask, following him through the overgrown shrubs.
He pulls me and I fall forward, the bush I stepped through swinging back into place. “It’s not far.” I swipe away the broken little twigs that cling to my shorts and follow him. “I inherited this house from my parents. When my dad was fifteen, it was his, and then when I turned fifteen, it came to me.”
“Hmm.” I grin. “That’s some family heirloom, though, right?”
He chuckles as we keep walking. “Yeah, that’s one thing you’ll come to realize. Nothing is done in halves.”
He stops, and I almost crash into his back. Stepping around his body, I walk forward and follow his sight. “Holy crap, what is it?” I whisper.
Bishop looks down at me, bringing the rim of his bottle to his lips and taking a swig. “Hmm, I’m not really sure how to answer that.”
I step around him, walking toward the cave that looks to be made of stone. There’s a dark door entrance with no windows, and the cave is surrounded by loose, overgrowing vines and shrubs.
“Have you been in it?” I ask, looking back up toward him.
“Never.” He shakes his head. “It’s just some old shit my dad used to talk about when I was a kid.”
“Kinda like the boogie man?” I tease him.
He takes my hand in his, and I ignore how my chest contracts and my core tingles at our contact. “Something like that,” he murmurs so lightly I almost miss it.
“So why did you bring me here, then?”
He grins. “‘Cause we’re going in.”
I shake my head. “I don’t wanna.”
“Baby?” He smirks—at least I think he’s smirking. The small light coming off his flashlight is hinting at a smirk from the crisp, sharp shadows over his cheekbones and jawline. “You’re coming.”
“Fuck.” I snatch the bottle out of his hands and bring it to my lips, swallowing the harsh amber liquid. Letting out a hiss, I wave toward the entrance of the stone. “Lead the way!”
