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“Be quiet and let me drive.” He started the engine, the car roaring to life with a growl. He changed gears with smooth, confident movements, the car picking up speed as we moved along the road.
“Damn, you look hot when you’re driving,” I muttered, immediately regretting the words. “Sorry.”
His gaze swung to mine, his eyes bright in the glow of the streetlights. Surprisingly, he didn’t comment. When I thought back to what had happened in the haunted house, I was shocked he’d even invited me to come with him.
“I’ve never driven stick before.” I filled the uncomfortable silence with the first comment that came into my head. Kian’s eyes were back on the road, but I saw them widen.
“Never?” His hands flexed on the steering wheel as we took a left onto a street lined with trees on one side, and a high stone wall on the other.
“Never.”
“We need to rectify that,” he said decisively.
“We do? Are we friends now?”
His eyes narrowed. “Does anything about any of our interactions so far make you think we are?”
A memory flashed through my mind.
I was on a high. First game after Kian Courtland, the star striker, had been suspended, and I’d managed to score four goals and an assist, leading us to a 5-1 win which put us in position at the top of the league table. It had taken me forever to escape afterwards—everyone wanted to congratulate me. Phrases like “Midas touch,” “golden boy,” and “star player” had all been banded around, and the attention was overwhelming. In the best way.
After opening the trunk of my car and placing my gym bag inside, I straightened up and turned around, realising I wasn’t alone. Kian stood there, hard and threatening, lip curled and his pale green eyes glinting with anger.
“Golden Boy.”
He spat the words at me. I opened my mouth to reply, but he hadn’t finished. “Don’t get any ideas about taking my place as the star player.”
“Feeling threatened? Maybe you shouldn’t have brought drugs into the school, Delinquent.”
&n
bsp; He snarled, and then without any warning, struck at me with a jab straight to the stomach.
Gasping, I doubled over in pain, tears coming to my eyes. I was dimly aware of him stalking away as I collapsed against my car.
Returning to the present, I shook my head. “Nope.” Then I added, “What about now?”
“We’re not friends.” His jaw tightened, and I rolled my eyes. This guy was throwing out so many mixed signals that I’d be surprised if he even knew what was going on inside his head. Giving up for now, I turned away from him to stare out of the window instead.
Kian slowed the car as we came to a quiet, tree-lined street with widely spaced-out houses, Scandinavian-style with timber frames and huge glass windows. He pulled off the road next to a small clump of tall pine trees and turned to me. “You can wait here if you want.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
He didn’t answer me. “Wonder if I’ll get arrested, this time.” There was a faraway look in his eyes, the hardness disappearing, replaced by an almost wistful look.
Unease settled heavy in my stomach, and my decision was simple.
“I’m coming.”
“Mask on and hood up. And don’t say a fucking word.” He slid his mask into place, and I followed suit, exiting the car. I watched as he ducked back inside, pulling something from the back seat, and then he was jogging along the road and turning down one of the driveways leading to the sprawling houses. This house was dark and silent, not even a single Halloween decoration outside.
A beep sounded, and the garage door rolled up, smoothly and silently.
“Whose house is this?” I hissed.
“Mine. Stop fucking talking.”
At his harsh whisper, I clamped my mouth shut. My questions would have to wait.
