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“Well, I’d like to hear about you from you, Astrid. You have pretty eyes by the way,” Greg says with a soft smile, smoothing the way. If anyone here is gifted, it’s him. He has the ability to defuse any situation, but even he is pissed right now. Not at Astrid, ironically, but at all of us. Jesus, how did this all get so fucked up?
“What do you want to know?” she asks him warily, taking a bite of her food and moaning in appreciation. “This is amazing, Salem. I wish I could cook like this.”
“You don’t like to cook?” She grins.
“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that I suck at it. I’m one of those people that could burn water. I think my problem is that I’m easily distracted,” she admits as I sit and listen to her talk, the melodic tone of her voice soothing me.
“Sounds like Slade,” she jokes, but Astrid just continues to eat, pretending not to hear.
“Where do you live?” Creed asks her.
She sighs and finishes her mouthful of food before replying. “Are you telling me you don’t know? Or are you trying to see if you can catch me in a lie?”
He doesn’t answer, which again makes the room feel tense. Jesus, this was a bad idea.
“You know what? Let me take you back, and we can watch a movie or something,” I offer, which has Slade scowling.
“What?”
“Nothing. If you want to get cozy with our—”
“Prisoner,” Astrid interjects, making Slade turn to her.
“Prisoner,” he agrees with a grin. “Then, by all means.”
“Funny, you didn’t seem bothered when you were playing video games with her all afternoon.”
“It wasn’t all afternoon.” Slade shakes his head.
“I feel like the red-headed stepchild that nobody wants to play with. Seriously, don’t do me any favors. I’m more than happy to go sit in the room with the shutters down and the killer peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I’m clearly not missing much.” Astrid places her fork in the center of the plate and starts to get up, but Greg growls.
“Stay seated and eat your food. Ignore these motherfuckers, and when you’re done, I’ll take you for a walk so you can get some fresh air.”
“Really?” she whispers to him.
God-fucking-dammit, I am an asshole.
“Really. I don’t like being cooped up inside, either. Wait, you’re not claustrophobic, are you?”
She shakes her head and touches his wrist lightly with her hand. A red haze drops over my eyes for a second, and I have to fight the urge to snap the motherfucker’s arm.
“It’s not small spaces, though I’m not a big fan of them. I don’t like being confined,” she admits, her voice dropping to a whisper. But there is something in her tone that has the hair on my arms standing up.
“Well, who the hell does?” Greg agrees, glossing over her discomfort. “Trust me, the walk will do you the world of good.”
She bites her lip and leans closer to him. I grip my fork so hard I’m surprised the thing doesn’t bend.
“I don’t know what happened to my shoes,” she murmurs.
Greg jerks his head around to glare at Slade and me. Slade, of course, can’t hear what’s being said.
“What?”
“Where are Astrid’s shoes?”
Everyone looks from Astrid to Slade.
“In my room. I don’t know why you’re all looking at me like that. She tried to run. I took care of the problem by taking her shoes,” he shrugs, and I know some of the others see his logic, though I can tell both Greg and Salem are pissed. I don’t bother to tell them she was barefoot when she ran.
