Page 70 of Sick Boys


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One second.

One second to turn around and a dark figure has already snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it right into his face.

“It’s dangerous all right …” I recognize that voice.

Alistair?

His face is hidden behind a thick hoodie, but those glimmering eyes that find mine in the dark definitely belong to him.

“With me around.”

I suck in a breath, not knowing what to do or even say as he hunches over the lifeless body of the dude who just harassed me.

Was he here on accident?

Or was he following me?

He gets up from the ground, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes lowered as he turns to face me. “Walk away.”

I shake my head. “But you just smashed his head in.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he replies, grabbing the guy by his arms as he drags him to the bushes.

A chill runs up and down my spine at the sight of the lifeless body on the ground.

Did Alistair just … protect me?

He pauses to look at me. “Go.”

And I don’t think twice before I spin on my heels and bolt off, headed straight for the bonfire.

But I can’t shake the thought that I’m being watched. Followed. Stalked.

I head beyond the gates of the university and walk off the beaten path to where I spot a fire burning in the background. Ali said Dylan would be there, and I have no reason not to believe him.

I head straight into Priory Forest, taking every step as carefully as I can because I don’t want to fall down and risk this plug going in even deeper. Even though I know that shouldn’t technically be possible, it still feels like it could.

When I get closer, some girls run past me wearing actual fucking bikinis. In the middle of fall.

An actual fucking pool party in the woods.

Ridiculous.

The blasting music lures me closer, and from between the trees, I can see Dylan basking in the natural spring with three other girls. He’s got his hand wrapped around one of their asses while another girl pushes her boobs up against him while attempting to kiss him.

Suddenly, our eyes connect, and I hide behind the tree, mortified he saw me looking.

“I know you’re here, Pen,” Dylan yells over the music. “I can see you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

I ram my forehead into the tree trunk out of embarrassment.

“You gonna come out, or you gonna stay behind that tree forever?”

Fine.

You can deal with this, Pen. Just ignore his taunts.

Sighing, I come out and face him. The girls he’s holding giggle when they look at me.

“She a friend of yours?” one of them asks.

“You could call it that …” he muses.

“Nice party you got over here,” I say, looking around at all the people literally slow-dancing to some filthy music. Some people hide beyond the trees, kissing and fucking around with their fingers and hands in places they shouldn’t be in public. But no one here seems to mind.

Is this what Tartarus parties are like? Mindless orgies?

“Wanna join us?” Dylan asks, tilting his head. “There’s plenty more room.”

I fold my arms. “No, thanks. I just wanna talk.”

His brows rise. “Talk? That’s boring.”

“Yeah … don’t be a bore,” another girl says, and she kisses him on his jawline.

The mere sight makes me want to vomit.

“Shouldn’t you be with Felix right now?” Dylan asks.

“He told me why you guys kept bullying me.”

“A bully? Me?” The smirk that follows is insufferable. “I only did what I had to.”

Sure. “Out of revenge?”

“If you want to call it that.” He clears his throat. “So you’re here because you’re mad at Felix?” His eyes narrow. “Interesting.”

“I’m mad at all of you, but I still need you to uphold your end of our deal.”

Dylan’s eyes light up like the bonfire behind him, though. “All right. I’ve got time.”

“I don’t,” I reply, hoping he gets the sense of urgency.

We’re still no closer to the truth, and those fuckers are busy partying, playing games, and getting drunk and high.

“So tell me what you want from me.” Dylan spreads his arms, both girls clinging closer as they toy with his platinum hair and buff chest. “I’m here.”

I roll my eyes. I’m not gonna say it out loud in front of all these people. “You know what I need help with.”

“What you need help with … orgasms?”

The girls laugh, and I’m fucking mortified.

“Dylan,” I warn.

“What? Not the answer you’re looking for?” The grin on his face grows stronger. Sexier. I hate it. But I hate more that it reminds me of that butt plug stuck in my ass.

“I need to find… someone.”

Is he really going to make me say it?

“You’re looking at him,” he retorts.

Some girl smiles and pecks him on the cheek.

“Want something from me? Ask.”

I swallow away my pride. “Will you please help me?”

I know they want me to say that word.

“And why would I do that?” he responds. “This is so much more fun.”

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