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Of course, Sloan’s password isn’t something as simple as a name or a date. It’s a long string of letters and numbers that don’t seem to make sense together at all. It’s a strong fucking password, probably because he’s paranoid as hell, but it doesn’t matter. I’m close.
Tonight, he manages to lose focus for long enough that the laptop screen goes black while he watches a chase scene play out on the screen.
The hero runs through the woods after the man who killed his girlfriend, the two of them dodging fallen trees and getting whipped in the face by spindly branches as they run.
“Imagine doing this shit in real life,” Rory says, gesturing to the TV. “Like, you’re all pissed off because here’s the dude you’ve been chasing for months, right in front of you, then you’ve got to run a fucking marathon to catch him. It’s bullshit. I’d probably trip over one of those conveniently placed fallen logs and break my damned leg.”
“Then you’d have to start the chase all over again,” Levi chimes in, not even watching the movie. “But would you? Or would it teach
you something about forgiveness?”
Rory snorts. “Yeah, no. It would teach me to hunt him down somewhere with fewer hazards. Or to just shoot him in the head next time instead of monologuing about how my dearly departed lover is watching me from heaven or whatever the fuck.”
Even Sloan snorts in amusement at that, and I take the opportunity to lean into his space slowly, pretending to stretch.
He glances down and sees his screen has timed out, and quickly types in the password. My eyes slide to the right at the perfect time, and I’ve got it. The last digit I need. I memorize it and resolve to write it down when I get back to my room, and a sense of triumph fills me.
I follow the motion of my stretch until my shoulder brushes Sloan’s, and he reacts to my presence. His brow furrows, but he doesn’t pull away, and that familiar heat flares between us almost immediately.
It’s a strange sort of pull that always crops up, the one we’re constantly fighting against. Our eyes meet, and I know he feels it, too. But that look is gone in a flash, replaced by the usual storm of shadows in his gray eyes.
He’s been stressed and on edge since the night he got shot, and I know he must have his dad breathing down his neck about relations between the two gangs.
A moment later, Levi gets up from his spot on the floor and settles on the other end of the couch, offering a distraction from Sloan for the moment. I have what I need anyway, so I lean away from Sloan and into Levi, settling against his side.
He and Rory don’t act jealous of each other at all now, even though I give attention to both of them, and they both know the other one has hooked up with me. I don’t know if they’ve talked it out or if they’re both just cool with it, but there’s no tension between them at all anymore.
Sloan, on the other hand, still seems to get jealous, and it’s entirely because he won’t take what he wants. The other two have no problems touching me or kissing my cheek, draping their arms around me when we’re sitting together.
Hell, the other day Rory patted my ass as Levi and I were heading out so he could take me to school, and Levi just laughed and told Rory it was too early to be horny. Sloan looked like he was about to smash the mug in his hand to pieces.
So, yeah. He’s holding himself back for whatever reason, and he’s mad that the other two aren’t.
But in reality, they don’t have a reason to. I’m here and encouraging them, so of course they’re going for it. If I told them to fuck off, they’d probably respect that, too.
Sloan won’t let himself take any kind of encouragement, and back when he did give in, it was always immediately followed by him getting angry. There’s got to be a reason, of course, and I’m not sure if I believe that it’s just because he has gang stuff to think about.
Levi and Rory have gang shit to worry about too, and they don’t seem to have an issue giving in to what they want. Rory’s been flirting with me since the moment we met.
Maybe it’s because Sloan feels guilty. I don’t even know if that’s an emotion he’s capable of feeling, but he did kill my dad, and he knows it. Maybe that’s what’s making him hold back. I wonder if he thinks about it every time he looks at me the way I do when I look at him.
The thought of it sends a shiver down my spine, and I lean more solidly against Levi, turning my attention back to the TV.
It doesn’t matter what Sloan thinks or feels.
All that matters is that I just got one step closer to my goal.
18
I lie in bed for a little longer than usual the next day, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. I feel like I might have had bad dreams again in the night, but at least this time I can’t really remember them. There’s just the vague feeling of unease and dread that usually comes after a nightmare, and I can’t get my brain to think about anything else.
It’s the sort of thing I was always able to talk to my dad about, but of course, that’s not an option anymore. So I do the next best thing and call Scarlett.
She answers on the third ring, sounding like she’s still in bed herself. “Hey, Mercy. Is everything okay?”
I smile, grabbing one of my pillows and holding it to my chest. She can always tell when there’s something going on, even before I’ve said anything.
“I guess,” I reply, biting my lip. “I didn’t sleep great.”
