What the hell am I going to wear to Trent’s?
All my past Halloween outfits are custom-made ones from my mother. Totally not sexy. I need something that will make Phantom turn his head, something that screams hot, something that will make him go mad.
Oh, my God.
Wait.
I dive into my walk-in closet, grabbing the box that holds my old school uniforms and sport uniforms. I dig through it until I find the Halloween outfit I secretly bought senior year when I thought there was a chance Mother would actually let me attend a party.
I hold the dress up with a grin.
It is perfect, so long as it still fits.
CHAPTER NINE
ELI
Ihave to give it to Trent; this is a pretty sick party.
The old barn is decked out to look haunted as fuck, and he’s gone all out with the corn maze. I’ve spent the last thirty minutes sitting on top of the roof, mapping different routes and noting the dead ends. But that isn’t the only reason why I am up here.
I can see everything from the roof, including the one-way road that leads to the old barn, which is the only way Blair could arrive.
I check my phone.
She has five more minutes to show up.
I knew that giving her an hour would be cutting it close since she lives about forty minutes away and would need to find enough time to sneak out of her mom’s party without getting caught. I like putting pressure on her. I want to know just how desperate she is. If I can push her to break the rules she has so diligently followed for years.
My invitation is just the first step.
I scan the crowd again. I can’t see anyone who is inside the barn, but I can watch everyone outside of it, and that means Brett and his fuckhead friends. Compared to last night at the bar, the group has tripled in size. It is mostly made up of dudes who used to be on the football team and who worship the groundhe walks on, plus a handful of asshats from the old lacrosse team who kiss Riley’s ass.
I hate my stepbrother, but I am tempted daily to murder Riley Manning. You’d probably think this is odd considering Brett all but tried to beat me into a coma not once but thrice during high school, getting close enough at one point that I ended up on bedrest for a week (not that there were any repercussions for that).
No, my disgust for Riley stems from his relationship with Blair. Asshole had the unfounded privilege of taking her virginity as just another notch on his bedpost. He marked her name inside gym locker 204, alongside every other girl whose cherry was popped by a member of his fucked-up bro squad. Riley dated her as a trophy, and that pisses me off. I saw him at parties during high school with his tongue down other girls’ throats and disappearing into bathrooms with them, all because Blair couldn’t go. Meanwhile, he sang her sweet nothings in the hallway and drove her to and from school. Everyone kept the truth a secret from her, and I’m ninety percent sure she still has no clue.
The beer can in my hand caves inward as I unconsciously fist my grip. Stray droplets flick onto my skin.
“Shit.”
I chug the rest of the drink, but it doesn’t cool me down enough. So, I do the only thing that will appease the monster itching for release under my skin.
I crush the beer can fully, and then I lob it directly at Riley. But unlike Evan, who was on the basketball team, my aim is questionable, so it hits the guy next to him instead. Motherfucker. What a waste.
I flop back against the roof with a groan, watching as the hazy orange sky begins to blend with the dark blue of night.
Waiting for Blair has me wound so damn tight. This night would either go great or horribly wrong, and I’m not sure how I would handle the latter. I’ve been sitting on the sidelines for years but watching her come last night has sent me over the edge. I pull my blade from my pant pocket and flick it rhythmically around my hand with practiced precision. My patience is running out. I crave her so badly it is causing me pain.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
The countdown.
Blair has sixty seconds.
I sit up, eye the entrance, and just about come in my pants.
Fucking hell, Blair is dressed as sexy Alice in Wonderland. Even from here I can see how damn short that dress is and the way her tits spill out from the top. And those thigh-high white socks? She must be trying to kill me—or at least my dick, because it’s already half fucking stiff and I haven’t even touched her.
