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I shrug, turning to Jules. “I’m bored, what else is there to do but study new sights instead of the same ones we’ve seen for the last month?”
“Boredom is what ends you, got it,” she jokes, taking the seat beside me. “You, my friend, are going to get murdered in your sleep.”
Little does she know they haven’t so much as glanced my way all night. My game of Susie Stalker is safe and sound.
“And you are going to get pregnant if you keep hopping on your man in the water,” I deflect, doing as she prefers and switch the conversation so it’s about her.
She laughs into the cooled air above us. “Honey, I’m all for it. That boy gets me pregnant, I’ll be set for life. Besides, I love him, so win-win.”
I shake my head, forcing a small smile, knowing she’s dead serious. If you’re not deemed ivy league status early, you’re a token your family will later cash in on. This is how it goes for a lot of us trust fund girls. Minus the love.
Love is not something anyone should chase in our world.
Convenience breeds confidence and keeps the daily dosage down. Love creates jealousy and doubt and mental instability.
Love kills.
The two of us look up when Cali walks over, officially swaying on her feet. “I’m starved. Who wants to help me order—”
The lights go out.
“Oh shit,” Cali hisses.
People yell in drunken numbness, some squeal and scream.
I roll my eyes, my fingers falling against the expensive leather at my sides, only to be pulled from it seconds later.
I frown, yanking my arms back.
“Jules, back—”
Something is slapped over my mouth as my hands are bound together.
What the hell?
A cloth is thrown over my head next, the soft fabric forming to my nose as my breaths quicken.
I kick, but I’m barefoot. I attempt to shout, but to no avail, and then I’m lifted into the air, not by one set of hands, but several.
I claw and scratch the muscles along the arm in reach, flexing as I do. When the cool night’s wind stings my skin, alerting me I’m no longer in the house, I wiggle every inch of my body in an attempt to set myself free, but all I get is a firmer grip on my upper thighs. My muscles clench beneath a rough palm, and a dark chuckle wafts over my chest.
I squeeze my lids shut, a knot forming in my throat as my Barocco robe is torn from my arms, leaving me in nothing but a triangle top swimsuit and bottoms a decent parent would slay their daughter for wearing at a party—a gift from my mother.
All I can think is I’m about to be raped, murdered, or kidnapped.
The air around me grows chillier, my pulse kicks higher, and I’m five seconds from confessing all my sins.
Suddenly I’m dropped into a pile of sand, and not two seconds later, a wave threatens to carry me out to sea.
I push my palms into the thick, soft sand and drag myself to my feet before the water steals it from beneath me, running up and out as far as I can, only to trip over something, slamming onto the sand once more.
My chest rises and falls rapidly, and I wait for the assault.
For hands to bound around my neck or hips.
For something far worse I may never want to wake up from.
But I get nothing.
The weep of the night’s waves echoes around me, not a hint of another’s presence with it.
With shaky fingers, I slowly reach up, and once I have the fabric in my grip, quickly tear it from my head.
I blink several times for my eyes to readjust, swiveling my body around in the damp sand to find I’m completely alone, nothing but the hint of taillights in the distance. The panic dwindles, my eyes snapping to my hands, and my shoulders fall.
A hair tie.
My hair tie, stretched around my wrists.
Pathetic, Jameson.
Teeth clenched, I angrily tear the tape from my mouth, surprised when it too slips off nice and easy, leaving behind a bit of a greasy residue.
With a heavy glare, I whip around, staring up at the sea cliff, and what do you know, the power suddenly kicks back on in Cali’s house, the pool, once again, illuminated with LED lights, the music reaching my ears in the barest of tones.
A growl escapes me as I wrap my arms around myself, the coastal breeze freezing my saltwater-covered ass, and start back up the hill. The wind chooses to blow a little with my every step taken, and the tape I tossed to the side rolls up, covering the back of my ankle.
I kick the thing away, only to pause when the gleam of the ocean hits it just right.
My head tips slightly and I take a quick glance around before bending to pick it up. I shake off the excess sand and drag it closer, squinting at the floppy piece of shit.
