In a weird way, I feel as though I should thank DarkHours99 for this. This is proving to me that Travisdoescare. He might pretend he is this hard-ass who doesn’t want to get close to people, but I’ve wormed my way into his heart, and I’m going to stay there. I’m a burrower.
“I’m just really scared right now,” I say, shrinking myself down to look as meek and helpless as possible. If Travis is worried, I might be able to take advantage of the situation and get even closer. “I’m staying at Ryan’s place all alone, and if this guy wants to do something, how am I going to stop it? Can I stay here with you? At least until—”
“Yes,” Travis says, cutting me off before I finish.
And just like that, my heart swells, and I feel like I’m soaring through the air once again. Nowthisis a step in the right direction. With Travis and me sleeping under the same roof, our relationship is bound to develop.
“You’re a lifesaver!” I run toward him, wrapping my arms around him for a hug. His entire body stiffens, and I stand on my tiptoes to give him a small peck on the cheek. “Thank you so much.”
Turning and walking to the living room, I see him in a mirror, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. That stings, but by the end of my stay here, he’s going to be begging for more. I take a seat on the couch, making myself at home.
Chapter Eleven
Travis
Who the hell does this man think he is? If anyone is going to hurt Sage, it’s going to be me. He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.
I find myself mentally comparing myself to him. I’m above average in height, with a perfect BMI and athletic-fat percentage. My IQ is in the genius range, and my net worth is around two billion. I’m clearly superior to this guy in every way and the better option.
Sage takes a seat in the living room and starts talking about something I don’t care to listen to. Her feet are on the couch, which is infuriating. She just walked over here in those godforsaken flip-flops, of course, and now she’s putting her bacteria-ridden feet all over my couch.
I wonder what the pathogen-transfer rate is for this.
I’ll google it later, right after I search for “how to get hippie foot stank out of microfiber.”
I immediately get the disinfectant spray from the kitchen and spray a healthy amount on the spot where her feet have been. I regret having her stay here already, but it will be easier to learn everything about her if I have her close by.
I could do it now. Yeah. It could be swift and easy. She’s already foolish enough to put her trust in a stranger. I can walk over to her and wrap myhands around her little neck and squeeze until her eyes are bulging out of her head.
“The commune has the solstice festival every year, and it’s not like they do anything different,” Sage continues, sitting upright. She crosses her legs underneath her so she almost looks like a pretzel sitting in the corner of my couch.
I feel a ringing in my head as her voice drones on and on about something senseless. Seeing her here now, all I can think about is Kevin and what she cost me. She owes me this. Her life. She doesn’t understand just how much her mere presence has destroyed me since I’ve met her. Taking her life will be an easy solution.
I sit down on the couch beside her, looking at her without saying a word. Does she think I’m listening? Does she really think I care about whatever inane bullshit she’s spewing off?
I could use a knife. I could stab her slowly in the side, watching as her eyes widen from the shock. Her entire body would tense, and her breath would quicken as she tried to rationalize what was happening to her. I could see the trust she so foolishly put into me vanish from her eyes as I tasted her distress.
Strangling feels more intimate, which I know someone like Sage might prefer. The proximity of our bodies while I hold her in my hands, feeling the life draining from her flesh, would be intoxicating.
I could poison her, but that’s no fun. Plus, getting the right toxin on the black market is tricky and not worth the danger.
“But the post at the ice cream shop has really been taking off. It’s mostly good, with the exception of the potential stalker here and there,” Sage continues, droning on with a slight laugh.
Her stalker . . .
As much as I have loathed being around her, she might have just gifted me something I couldn’t have dreamed of. A new victim.
A stalker isn’t my usual target, but something about this one makes me want to kill him. I’ll find a way to figure out who he is, killhim—then, when I’m done with that, I’ll kill Sage. Just when she thinks she’s going to be safe, I will obliterate those fantasies.
“I just don’t know what I would do without you here,” Sage says, scooching closer to me on the couch. Her hand is draped over the back, and her fingers are slowly moving closer to me.
The timer in my kitchen rings, and I jump to my feet.Perfect timing.
Without saying a word to excuse myself, I go to the kitchen and open the oven, seeing how the low-fat cheese on top of my veggie lasagna is golden brown and bubbling perfectly. I grab an oven mitt and pull it out, setting it on the counter to cool for two minutes.
“That smells heavenly,” Sage says as she walks into the kitchen and looks at the glass pan filled with my dinner. I pull a knife from the kitchen block and hold it in my hand for a moment, wondering what it would be like to sink it into her flesh. “Can I have some?”
I’m pulled from my thoughts, and I shake my head, looking down at the steaming-hot lasagna. “This has been perfectly portioned for my dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow.”
