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“You have ten seconds to come out. Then I’m calling the police,” I said, taking a few tentative steps toward the closet.
Still no sound or movement.
Heart in my mouth, I took another step and wrenched the door all the way open, bat raised high in the air. At the sight that greeted me, I almost fell apart laughing.
“God, you’re an idiot,” I murmured to myself, shoulders shaking with mirth.
My black leather knee-high boots had fallen off the lowest shelf and knocked the door ajar from the inside. There was no intruder lurking in the space, waiting to jump out and attack me. I was just being paranoid after losing my key earlier.
Shaking my head, I turned away and put the bat back under my bed. Then I stepped over to the window and pulled the curtains shut. I used to keep them open all night, because I liked to wake up in the morning with the sunlight streaming in, but something about it had started to creep me out lately. I wasn’t sure what it was, exactly. Just a funny feeling in my gut that wouldn’t go away whenever I looked at the window at night.
I turned on my bedside table lamp and switched off the overhead light. Then I began the nightly self-care ritual I’d started a few weeks ago in an attempt to add some peace and calm to my hectic student life.
First, I grabbed a bottle of water from the minifridge my father had given me for my dorm—his version of a housewarming gift—and used it to wash down a multivitamin along with a melatonin tablet to help me sleep. Then I slathered my legs and arms with scented lotion from my favorite K-beauty brand. Once that was done, I climbed into bed and read a few chapters of a supernatural fantasy novel.
I was usually able to get through at least three or four chapters of whatever I was reading at the time, but tonight, I was extra tired. I only got through one chapter before my eyelids started to feel heavy, so I put the book down and sluggishly reached over to switch my lamp off. Then I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting off to sleep.
It was still dark in the room when I woke up. Everything seemed to be spinning around me.
I blinked and tried to rub my aching head, but my arms felt like they’d been weighed down with cinderblocks. My head felt strange, too, like someone had opened up my skull and removed several crucial parts of my brain. Every thought seemed to disintegrate before I could fully process it, and my memories were hazy as well.
What the hell did I do tonight, and why did I feel so out of it? Did I go out to a club with my friends and get way too drunk? If so, where was I now? At home with my dad? Back in New Zealand? I had no idea. I simply couldn’t think straight. Could barely even think at all.
I let out a sleepy grunt and closed my eyes again. My body felt like it was melting into the mattress below me, and soon I was sinking into a dream. Or perhaps it was a memory. It felt like a bit of both, bizarre and confusing but familiar at the same time.
I was sixteen again, having a sleepover party with my friends. For some reason, Paxton had showed up uninvited, and he was standing over my sleeping bag, watching me sleep.
Blinking rapidly, I struggled to sit up on my elbows and peered into the inky darkness of the room. My eyes finally adjusted, and I noticed a tall figure standing at the end of my bed.
“Oh. You really are here,” I whispered. My voice sounded strange. Slurred and distant, like I was talking underwater.
I collapsed back onto the mattress. My eyes drifted shut again. My brain was becoming completely untethered from reality, and I felt like I was falling through time, down, down, down…
“Sienna.” A masculine voice muttered my name.
My eyes fluttered open. Paxton was still here. He was on my bed now, leaning over me. The blankets had disappeared, and the cool night air was sweeping over me, making goosebumps crop up all over my arms and legs.
Oh.
I knew where I was now. At the Cavanagh’s lake house with my friends. Paxton had just declared that I was his girlfriend, and now we were sleeping next to each other.
“Paxton,” I murmured, sluggishly reaching for him. “I had a weird dream about you.”
One large hand went to my right thigh, gently stroking the bare skin there. “You lied, Sienna,” Paxton said. “Didn’t you?”
I sleepily nodded. He was right.
I lied to him when I said I didn’t want to have sex with him because I’d been drinking. The truth was, I did want to have sex that night, drunk or not, but part of me was worried about the morning after. Paxton had been nothing but sweet and kind to me, but I’d seen guys turn on a dime as soon as a girl slept with them. It’d happened to so many other girls I knew from school, and they were all left brokenhearted.
I knew the best thing I could do was wait a while, until I was absolutely certain I could trust Paxton. Ninety-nine percent just wasn’t enough.
“Say it,” he muttered. He sounded pissed.
“Yes,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “I lied. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Paxton’s hand shot up from my leg to wrap around my throat. “That’s all you have to fucking say for yourself?”
“Please… don’t hate me,” I murmured, eyelids feeling heavy again. Why was he so mad at me? Maybe I shouldn’t have lied to him, but it wasn’t that bad, was it? It was just self-preservation. Besides, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me when I was drunk anyway. So it was partially his idea.
