Page 30 of Made for Cyn
Iris stops at the kitchen, grabs us each a beer, and sails through to the backyard. Clutching the icy drink in my hand, I trail behind her and gasp when I feel my butt vibrate.
Shit. Ignoring the damn phone, which I did bring, but only because I felt safer knowing I had a way to call for help, I shiver in the night air and pretend it’s not at the thought of Cyn texting me.
All of which fades under the reality that he’s probably checking up on Iris. He dropped me quickly enough, so I’d be stupid to assume otherwise, and I’d like to think I’m not.
We settle in a few folding chairs, surrounding a matching folding table where four guys sit and play cards, one of whom I recognize as Razor, or Saul, I guess. He gives Iris a lazy grin, and she smiles seductively, her dark eyes sparkling in the low light.
I squirm uncomfortably in my chair, unsure how to process this newest turn of events.
Is Iris with this dude? I could swear she really liked Bastion, which leads me to believe something else is happening, mainly because Cyn is watching her like a hawk, and me by extension.
Why would he bother otherwise?
My butt buzzes again, and I sigh, knowing I can’t ignore him, although the insane part of me that’s hurt by his lackadaisical attitude is sorely tempted. But I don’t need more trouble, and maybe I can put him off somehow.
I haven’t told Iris about the phone, but she’s planted herself in Saul’s lap, so I turn away and pull it out to read the messages surreptitiously.
Cyn: Where are you?
Cyn: Beauty?
Cyn: You better tell me where you are right now.
Unknown: LB, you’re riling the beast. Let us know where u at.
Shit, I must have missed the first two because they’re from an hour ago. With shaky fingers, I stick to my resolve and respond although the sick sensation in my stomach tells me I’m probably going to regret it.
Rain: I’m at home
Immediately, two texts come through, and I look around wildly, hoping they’re just fucking with me.
Cyn: Is that right? Stay where you are.
Jig: Aww, now you’re lying? I’m disappointed, LB . . .
Shit. They can’t possibly know where I am, right? I don’t know.
With another wary glance around, I rise, half expecting them to jump from the bushes as I approach Iris, who’s sucking face with her new beau.
“Um, Iris?” I whisper.
She pulls away and glances at me, and I’m surprised to find her eyes achingly dull before she smiles. “Yeah, babe?”
Momentarily distracted, I search her gaze, disturbed, but she seems fine now, and I wonder if I imagined it.
“I’m not feeling well. Can we go home?”
I’m not getting good vibes, and I feel an urgent need to get the hell out of here regardless of Cyn’s demand and Jig’s supposed disappointment.
“We just got here. What’s wrong, shark week or something? I have painkillers in my purse,” she says, reaching toward her purse on the ground.
“No,” I mutter, my face flaming at her loose, freaking lips. “It’s—”
“Shark week!” Jig says, appearing before the fire, like a demon straight from hell. Wide eyed, I spy Bastion and Cyn right behind him as he says, “Sorry Cyn, guess you’ll have to get off the old-fashioned way.”
Stunned, I meet Cyn’s angry stare, my skin erupting in goosebumps at the acidic expression before I remember he’s not my keeper, and I glower, crossing my arms defiantly.
Beside me, Iris gasps and drops to the ground as Saul or Razor or whatever growls, pushing her the rest of the way off to stand. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
