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It can’t be that easy, I think. Even when they watch me drink the rest of the ginger ale and leave me alone on the sofa, only coming in to check on me once in a while to make sure I’m not dead, I know nothing can be this easy.
Not even when I’m in an Uber on the way home, with Rook having paid for it himself and the driver promising to get me home safely, do I think forone momentthat all I have to do isproveI don’t want anything to do with them so that they’ll leave me alone.
Because if so, this will be the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and I won’t even have to try.
Chapter 18
By the time the door opens and I can hear Juniper shrugging off her jacket in the entryway, I’ve thought of twelve different ways to tell her about Rook and Oliver. I’ve come up with seven plans as well, and at least two of them involve moving to Bora Bora. Another includes reinventing myself in the Arctic Circle, and since I like the cold, it seems like a good option. Maybe I’ll become a sled dog trainer up there.
I’ve considered all the ways I’m going to tell her. That I’m even considering springing it on her when she opens the door into the kitchen, but when she does…I just sit there and smile. “Welcome back,” I say, in response to the clear confusion on her face. Normally I’d be asleep by this time, though, to be honest, I’ve slept most of the day, including during the time I normally stream.
But I can’t stream when I know who’s watching.
“Are you okay?” Juniper asks, sliding into her seat at the kitchen table. I sigh and look down at the fake wood grain, rubbing my finger along it while she watches.
“I had a hard weekend,” I admit, and relay the story of finding the body in the alleyway. I don’t mention that it lookedlike her, because that would lead to more confessions that I’m suddenly too afraid to tell her.
Even when I think I will, when the words are on my tongue and the look on her face is both concerned and curious… I can’t do it. I can’t tell her about Rook and Oliver, and for a second I’m sure it’s because I’m terrified of what they’ll do to her.
It has to be that, right? Just like the reason I haven’t gone to the cops is because I’m scared that if I do, they’ll do something awful tome.
“That’s fucked up,” Jun murmurs, tapping her nails on the table. “Has there been any word about who the killer might be?” She frowns, glancing at her phone when the screen lights up.
Yeah,I almost want to say, as I just frown at her.I know exactly who they are, and you were right to be worried about Oliver.Icouldtell her. After all, she’s smarter than I ever give her credit for and would know what to do, hopefully without getting us killed or run out of town. Though, my Arctic Circle plan still looks good in my mind.
“I haven’t heard anything,” I lie instead, shrugging. “Who knows? Maybe it’s some weirdo just going around frenzy killing.”
“Maybe it’s a serial killer?” Juniper suggests instead, her voice casual. I look up at her, finding that her eyes are on mine, and concern softens her gaze. “Are you really okay?” she asks gently, reaching across the table to poke my hand with one long nail. “You just look… I don’t know, off.”
“I have a headache,” I admit, and it isn’t exactly a lie. Not when the knot on the back of my head still throbs with pain, and I still get a little woozy when I stand up or lay on it wrong. But what else can I say? If I show her, and I tell her, then things won’t be in my control anymore.
Besides, it feelswrongto tell her. It feels… I don’t really know, I guess. I just want to push it out of my brain instead ofletting it show on my face, because somehow, it doesn’t feel like Juniper’s business.
It’smine, and that I’m so territorial over the business of Oliver and Rook makes me nervous in a way that I don’t quite understand.
“I’m going to go to bed,” I say finally, getting to my feet with a loud exhale. “I wanted to wait up to make sure you got home okay.” That’s a lie; I’d stayed up because I was sure that I’d tell her, and I wasso surethat I wanted her to give me her opinion or maybe go kick Oliver’s ass. But now that the time is here, and passed at this point, I justcan’t.
“I’m going to bed, too,” Juniper groans, sitting back in her chair. “I’m fuckingexhausted. Have I told you I hate flying?”
“About six times,” I assure her, grinning as I stretch my arms over my head and stand on my tiptoes. “In the past month. If you hate flying so much, stop doing it. Take a bus, or a balloon.” It’s hard to talk so casually, like I’m not bothered, but if it keeps everything normal enough around here, then I’m damn well going to try.
“A balloon,” Juniper agrees, getting up as well. “Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do. Aballoon. Good night, Blair.” She nudges my arm as she walks by and I throw her a smile, waiting for her door to close before I make my way into my own room.
It occurs to me that I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. I was lying about wanting to go to bed, though I know that I should. I have classes tomorrow, unless I’m going to just not go. It’s not like this is high school, and anyone is going to know if I don’t.
Besides, I don’t know how I’m going to show my face in photography, for obvious reasons.
Collapsing onto my bed, I groan with my face in the pillows. My laptop digs into my side from where I’ve left it, and it takes me a moment to wrestle it free as I roll over onto my side. After a moment of hesitation I open it, navigating tofunxcamsto seeif I’ve gotten any messages or reminders or even a verbal slap on the wrist for missing my scheduled stream today.
At this point, I don’t know if I’m ever going to stream again.
There are four messages blinking at me, and two of them are random spam. The third is fromrob784, moaning about how I’ve fucked up his day and ruined everything for him. But frankly. I can’t bring myself to care. It’s not like I’m a doctor or a therapist. I’m not a chef or some kind of general contractor coming to fix something in his house. I’m a fucking cam girl doing amateur porn. If he can’t get over the fact that I didn’t stream for a day, that’s his problem and he should seek immediate help for what has to be some kind of addiction, clearly.
I don’t bother to answer him, because fuck Rob, honestly.
The fourth message drags up a feeling of nausea that’s quickly replaced with anxiety bubbling between my ribs. I shouldn’t even look at it, let alone consider what it might say.
Because now that I know Rook isthrillingterror,I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the things I’d told him before I knew his identity.
