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Gage: Will you chill out? They probably just have them in there to eat.
Me: And that’s better because …?
Gage: Well, it’s gross, for sure, but in some cultures, eyeballs are a delicacy. Well, animal eyeballs are anyway. I’m hoping you’re not talking about human eyeballs.
Me: I’m not sure. I barely got a look at them before I nearly puked.
Nina: Maybe you better check.
Me: No thanks.
Nina: Sky! You have to look! If they have human eyes in their fridge, then they’re probably murderers and you won’t have to live with them anymore.
Me: Yeah, probably, because they’ll kill me.
Nina: I’m sure they won’t …
Yeah, the ellipsis at the end of her message is making me feel super great right now.
Gage: Sky, don’t listen to her. I’m sure they’re just animal eyeballs. But just for peace of mind, you should look.
Me: How am I even supposed to tell if they’re human?
Gage: Animals will probably be rounder.
Me: What are you? An animal eyeball expert?
Gage: I’m an expert of everything. I thought you knew that already. ;)
A small smile forms on my lips but promptly fizzles when I look back at the fridge.
“Gage is probably right. They’re just animal eyeballs,” I mumble as I wrap my fingers around the handle of the fridge and pull the door open—
“What’re you doing?” a low voice asks from behind me.
“Fucking hell.” I reel around, startled, and press my hand to my chest.
The instant my eyes find the owner of the voice, my pulse speeds even more, and thunder grumbles from outside. I’m not even positive why my heart rate spikes, other than this guy is shockingly pretty in a way that I thought only existed in fairy tales or some shit like that.
Short, blond hair; full, pierced lips; and lavender eyes a similar shade to Emaline’s. He’s also tall and lean, and his skin is heavily inked with similar tattoos as Max’s.
Good Lord, are all the Everettsons gorgeous? And, why are all their eye colors so vibrant? It makes all other eyes I’ve ever seen seem dull.
He cocks his head to the side as his gaze sweeps up my body. Then his lips spread into a grin that I can’t tell for sure if it’s friendly or malicious.
“You must be Skylin.”
I nod, shifting my weight. “Yeah.”
His grin magnifies. “I’m Porter.”
“Oh.” I relax a smidgeon. “You’re the oldest, right?”
He musingly smiles for some reason. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He studies me for a thunder boom of a second before gracefully rounding the island and coming to a stop in front of me. “So, what exactly were you doing in there?” He nods at the fridge without taking his eyes off me.
“Um …” I’m finding it really hard to concentrate. “I was just going to make myself something to eat.”
“But something scared you, right?”
