The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(44)

The three dots inside the bubble continue to shuffle, signaling that he's still typing, but then it just…disappears. I instantly kick myself. I've spent the afternoon telling myself there's no way I could ever be with Alex, and in the next fucking breath, I'm allowing myself to get sucked into this bullshit, letting myself sink into some sort of nasty downward spiral because he might have hooked up with Zen or Kacey. Or fucking both of them. God. Nope. I shudder out of the thought.

The phone chimes, just as I toss it beside the groceries on the passenger seat. I sit very still, trying to decide how I want to proceed here. I shouldn’t read the message. I should drive back to the cabin and put this behind me. It’s bad enough that I texted him in the first place. I should have ignored the video and fucking deleted it.

Then the phone chimes again.

Fuuuck.

I pick up the phone, hating myself.

Alex: Conquest?





And then…

Alex: Where are you?





I drop the phone, startled by the question. Why does he want to know where I am? He does not need to know where I am. I really am such a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have said a word. I should have kept my mouth shut and pretended I didn’t care, even if the idea of him with someone else, especially one of my ex friends, did sting for a second. Now, I’ve tipped my hand in an awkward way that’s going to be difficult to talk my way out of.

Ignore him, Silver. Do not reply. Best way to handle this is to just pretend like it didn’t happen.

“Great advice, asshole,” I growl at myself. “You’re great at pretending, aren’t you? It’s your fucking forte.”

I scowl at the screen, the few brief words Alex sent my way blazing there in black and white, and I can’t think of anything else to do, though. I drive all the way back to the cabin, cursing at myself under my breath. When I check my phone, parked in the driveway, there are zero bars in the top left-hand corner of the screen, and I'm awash with relief. But even I know that it's stupid to be relieved, when I can't hide from him forever. This weekend might be a day longer, but Tuesday isn't that far away. I'm still going to have to face Alex at school. I delete the video, along with the text, so I can't torture myself with it anymore.





17





SILVER





“I’m not a monster, though I do sometimes work for monsters.”

I cram popcorn into my mouth, eyes glued on the T.V. screen. I can quote this movie word for word, but I still like to watch it with the subtitles on. Simon’s big reveal that he does, in fact, have a soul, does nothing to endear him to me, as I sip on a diet coke, digging my toes beneath the cushion at the end of the sofa.

I blink and see Alex, sitting on the edge of a lounger, staring at Kacey and Zen as they rub their naked, wet bodies up against one another. Apparently, it is not safe to close my eyes just yet, not even for a microsecond. I try to lose myself in the explosive action taking place on the screen. It’s not easy, but after a while, I’m suitably numb and warmed by the fire, and I begin to drift off.

Much later, I come to with a start, knowing that something woke me. The living room’s filled with the sound of static, and the T.V. screen is all snow, the DVD having switched itself off at the end of the film. All is silent. The patter of the rain on the sloped roof is even absent, and my ears seem to ring with the tense quiet.

Something isn’t right. Something…

There’s a loud slam outside, the sound of a car door being closed.

I leap up from the couch, my heart rate skyrocketing through the roof. Someone's here. Someone's fucking here. My pulse pounds at my temples as I run to the kitchen, not knowing what exactly I plan on doing when I get there. Shit, shit, shit. Dad would have told me if he was coming to the lake. Mom never comes here, period. She's too damn busy to take a break and make the drive. It's unlikely anyone would make the trek down the two-mile-long, narrow driveway, the trees pressing in on either side of the pot-holed dirt track if they were lost and looking for one of the Airbnb cabins located along the other side of the lakefront.

No, to find yourself at this particular cabin, you have to know it’s here, and you have to be looking for it specifically.

I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Hurrying back to the living room, I snatch up my phone from the couch, trembling as I open up the screen and—fuck! No fucking reception. What am I going to do? WhatamIgoingtodowhatamIgoingtodowhatamIgoingtodo?

Calm the fuck down, Silver. Just calm the fuck down right now. This is how people always die in horror movies. They panic. They lose their shit, and they wind up making stupid decisions, and then they wind up fucking dead. Do not panic.

Easier said than done, though. My thoughts are scrambled as I rush back into the kitchen again and look for something to arm myself with. Meat tenderizer? No. Pasta strainer? Fuck, no. Kebab skewer? Errrr no. Knife! Yes, a knife. I yank open the cutlery drawer, frantically trying to find a blade that isn't dull and pitoned with rust, but it's been a decade since we had a BBQ here. You wouldn't be able to pop a fucking balloon with any of the—

BANG!

BANG, BANG, BANG.

Fuck.





My ears are ringing. It occurs to me, after years of coming to the cabin and being entirely unafraid of the place, that coming here alone was a remarkably stupid move on my part.