“Don’t even think about it,” she mutters, pointing to a stack of napkins on the coffee table.
Timothy groans like a punished toddler but heeds Kiki’s warning. After wiping off his fingertips he flops back onto the couch with a burp.
Any hopes I had that he’d settle somewhere farther away from me are crushed the second he leans back. I do my best to get out of his path, but he still lands so close that his knee knocks against mine on the way down. His palm winds up in the space between us, his pinkie finger close enough to brush the edge of my thigh.
My breath catches in my throat at the sudden closeness. Unlike earlier with Kai, the oppressive scent and heat of him isn’t welcome in my space. I resist the impulse to push him away. Clearly he’s not in his right mind. He probably didn’t mean to sit so close to me—especially with his girlfriend coming back any second.
It’s absurd that I even thought it—that he sat next to me intentionally. That hewantsto be close to me. Boys like him don’t creep up on girls like me. Don’t let their pinkies slide over toward them when they feel safe under the shroud of the dark.
I glance at Kai out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t seem to notice the closeness between me and Timothy. It’s probably too dark for him to even see. Kiki is occupied with her phone, and Timothy focuses on the movie as much as someone as high as he is can. I consider excusing myself to the bathroom just to have a reason to leave when an earsplitting sound makes us all rocket up to attention. Suddenly, something pounds against the back wall—close to the sliding door, followed quickly by that same sound again.
The sound, I realize with a gulp, of someone screaming.
10
Kiki immediately jumps into action.
“Carla?!” she shouts, hurrying toward the deck while Kai pauses the movie and scrambles to flip on the overhead lights.
Everything is a blur as I stay frozen on the edge of the couch. I will myself to move—to at least turn around so my neck doesn’t cramp from twisting to look at the sliding doors behind me.
Timothy is too stoned to fully comprehend what’s going on, but he does his best to stumble off the couch and toward the deck. I breathe easier once he’s no longer pressed up beside me, but it’s impossible to relax with that frantic pounding on the walls. Even with the room flooded with light again we can’t make out what’s going on. Outside the sun has fully set, leaving the woods past the windows and doors as pitch-black as it had been inside moments earlier.
“Carla!” Kiki calls out again, struggling to pry open the sliding door. No matter how hard she tugs, the door doesn’t budge. Her knuckles go white from the effort of gripping the handle with all her strength, her breath coming out in short, labored bursts as she tugs and tugs but doesn’t get any movement. “This fucking thing is jammed again!”
Kai whips around and throws the front door open, makinga dash for the deck from outside of the cabin. Finally, I snap out of my daze. Lunging off the couch, I move for the door—but I hesitate in the wide-open entryway. Mami’s voice rings in my ears again.
Never go chasing after trouble,she’d warned Mikey after he landed his first detention for picking fights with boys at school. Ignoring that he was provoked—that they’d called him all the same horrible things they’d called me, called Papi. He just hadn’t learned how to walk away from them yet. And still hasn’t. She’d leaned in across the dining table, eyes narrowed as she whispered so low we had to strain to hear her.Unless you want to walk into a trap.
Still, it feels cowardly, staying inside when someone is shouting for help. Part of me itches to go after Kai, to hold him back until we’re sure where the screams are coming from, but the pounding and wailing cuts off before I have to make that call.
Laughter echoes around us.
“What the hell, Carla?” I can hear Kai shout from somewhere in the direction of the deck.
When I turn around, Kiki has given up on trying to pull open the sliding door. Light spills out across the deck as the string lights flicker back to life. A disgruntled Kai hoists himself over the deck railing followed by Carla, holding her stomach while doubled over with laughter.
“I’m sorry,” Carla says in between laughs, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had to.”
“You didn’t have to do anything,” Kiki snaps, pulling the door open with ease, and then grabbing Carla by her arm hard enough for her laugh to cut off abruptly.
“Watch the hair,” Carla whines, tugging her pin-straighthair out from where it’s trapped under Kiki’s tightly closed fist. She brushes the hair over her shoulder casually before pinching Kiki’s cheeks between her glossy, manicured fingers. “Your face was so worth it.”
Kiki slaps Carla’s hand away—the sound echoing through the room. I wince at the harshness of it, but Carla doesn’t seem to mind. She slinks over to the kitchen, grabbing an abandoned drink off the counter and taking a long swig.
“Who cares about the movie,” she says as if she hadn’t been the one to suggest it. “We should be in the hot tub.”
Everyone except Timothy eyes one another skeptically. Kai had told me to pack a bathing suit, but I’d hoped that with the late fall chill it would be too cold to actually get any use. Kiki doesn’t seem convinced and neither does Kai, a theory that’s confirmed when he turns to shoot me a questioning raised brow. Before I can shrug in reply, Carla scoffs and throws her hands up in the air.
“What?” Carla smirks as she gestures to the barely lit-up deck. Besides the string lights and the faint glow of the controls on the hot tub, it’s almost impossible to see five feet past the cabin. “Are you wimps too scared to go outside in the dark?”
The taunt makes Kiki bristle and cross her arms. “You literally just scared the shit out of us.”
“Oh, please! That was the most cliché trick in the book,” Carla whines before slinging an arm around Kiki’s shoulders. “C’mon, it’s almost Halloween, andyouwere the one who wanted to skip out on the dance, so…” She runs a finger along Kiki’s bare arm. Even from across the room I can see the way goose bumps blossom along the path of Carla’s touch. “You owe me a good time.”
Kiki stiffens when Carla’s fingers curl around her shoulder,glaring down at the bracelet on her best friend’s wrist—Carlawritten in cursive on a long gold plate, a delicate chain linked on either side—before wriggling out of her grip.
“Fine,” Kiki mutters as she snatches the cup out of Carla’s hand, downs it in one long gulp, then crushes it in her fist. She tosses it into the trash as she crosses the room, headed toward the staircase. “We’ll meet on the deck in five,” she commands, and that’s all Carla and Timothy need to smirk and rush upstairs to change.
