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A sudden sound at my window made me sit up, my eyelids flying open—and then I gasped.
The smudged glass pane rose as it was pushed open from the outside. A shaggy head of chocolate brown hair popped through, and then an entire body.
Bishop.
I stared, mouth agape and unspeaking because… well, what the hell did you even say to some random boy breaking into your room in the middle of the night? I probably should’ve screamed, but a flash of fear for my mother kept my lips glued shut. I didn’t know what Bishop wanted, and I had no idea what he was capable of—but I did know he hated my whole family, and I had to assume that would include my mom.
Whatever screwed up mess I was entangled in, I could at least try to keep her out of it.
Bishop didn’t even say anything to me—just straightened himself up, glanced around my room, and started going through my things. He went to my dresser first, picking up and examining the small trinkets that I had managed to bring with me from home. He moved on quickly to my drawers, pulling one open and rifling through it lazily, like he had all the time in the world to kill.
Eventually, my brain and my indignation caught up to me, and before he could move on to my underwear drawer, I stood up, pushing him out of the way.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, snapping as loud as I dared to; it wasn’t like Mom was sleeping on the other side of the house anymore.
He shrugged, nudging me easily out of the way.
“Seeing what my newest acquisition is all about,” he said simply.
Irritation flared. “I’m surprised you even know what the word acquisition means.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. Brow up. Smirk at the corner of his lips. I bet he could've gotten whatever girls he wanted if he wasn’t such a blatant asshole.
“You obviously don’t. Acquisitions aren’t usually so... mouthy.”
“You’re not funny.”
“I’ve been told I’m very funny, actually.”
I scoffed. “Why are you here, Bishop? I’ll scream, or—”
“Or what? Not like anyone around here would call the cops. I dunno if you noticed, but they don’t exactly patrol here.”
That silenced me. He nodded over to my bed.
“Sit.”
I gritted my teeth but complied nonetheless, plopping down on my bed. He eyed me as I did, and I suddenly became very aware that the only thing I had on was my nightgown—a short, thin little slip. I grabbed a pillow and held it in front of me, wrapping my arms around it and shielding myself from him. His smirk deepened.
“Didn’t peg you for a shy girl, given all that skin you’ve shown the last two days.”
“Why are you here, Bishop?” I asked again, dodging his question and its implication.
“Morbid curiosity.” He went back to rifling through my drawers.
“Sure you’re not here for some… panty raid or whatever it is you inner city boys do?”
“Oh, trust me, Princess, rich boys are a lot nastier than the inner city ones. We’re a lot more forward with what we want from someone, for starters.”
As if that’s a good thing, I thought skeptically. Still, I couldn’t help but think of Barrett King, and as I did, Bishop’s words rang true. Something about Barrett had made me uneasy, although on the surface, he’d acted like a complete gentleman.
“Seriously.” I sat up straighter, tightening my grip on my pillow. “Why are you here?”
He was quiet, continuing to go through my things like he was searching for something. Honestly, I was pretty sure he just liked riling me up, stringing me along, not giving me answers when I demanded them. Just as my patience started to properly wear out, he turned.
“I’m here to make sure you understand your position. And what we’re going to get out of you in our little arrangement. I don’t like repeating myself.”
I grit my teeth.
