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I bet even Danni, who’s a bazillion months pregnant, is getting more action than me.
I stare at the curtains once more, longingly.
If we were home right now, I wonder if I’d have got a visit?
Probably not, he’s too busy partying with Barbie.
It’s been three days since his last night-time visit. Since he edged me over and over until it literally felt like I was going to explode if he didn’t let me fall.
Well, as far as I know, it’s been three days.
I know I should have closed my window after discovering his antics on Saturday night. I went to. But the second my fingers closed around the handle it felt wrong, and I immediately backed away, leaving it open, hoping that he’d return for a repeat performance.
I sigh, the banging upstairs only getting louder.
If he did come, he didn’t wake me. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Did he just watch me? Did he… do anything?
Was he even there?
I blow out a frustrated sigh, fed up with second-guessing myself.
It doesn’t matter if he did come. He clearly didn’t want me aware of his visit if he did. And that right there is the issue.
Whatever this thing between us is, it’s hidden darkness and cloaked in secrets.
Yeah, it makes it hotter, more tempting.
But it doesn’t change the fact that the two of us could never be.
For starters, we hate each other…
When a scream rips through my room, I sit up, swinging my legs from the edge of the bed and realising that I’ve got two options.
Lie back like a creep and get myself off to the sounds of one of my pseudo uncles banging his woman, or take the joint that Kas slipped me earlier and get the fuck out of this room, this cabin.
I can lie here wishing that Theo might slip through that open window all night, but we all know it’s never going to happen.
He’s too busy in London, schmoozing all his parents' wealthy and influential guests, probably trying to decide which Barbie doll he’s going to let bounce on his giant dick when the party slows down.
Fuck. Maybe he won’t even limit it to one.
I’ve heard all the gossip at school. I might not be interested in joining in, but that doesn’t mean I don’t listen.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, swiping the joint and a lighter from the bedside table where I placed it earlier, tugging on a pair of boots and shoving my arms through a Rebel Ink hoodie that I shamelessly stole from Titch.
Wrapping it tightly around myself, I pull the hood up and shove my phone in my pocket before swinging my leg over the window frame and dropping to the frozen ground below.
My breath comes out in white clouds as the grass and fallen leaves and twigs crunch beneath my feet.
A whole-body shiver rips through me, but I don’t let it stop me and walk deeper into the undergrowth.
The moon is bright and high in the sky, allowing me enough light to navigate my way around the trees.
I come to a stop when I’m confident that I’m far enough away from the cabin that I won’t be spotted should anyone look out of the windows. Leaning back against a huge tree trunk, I bring the joint to my lips before flicking the lighter, making the space around me glow orange.
I suck in a deep hit, fighting my need to cough as my throat contracts around the smoke, but the second it fills my lungs I already feel it start to take effect.
