Page 116 of Take Her

“Do you not understand doorbell technology?” she asked, walking back into her place, tossing her phone on her couch.

I assumed I could come inside. “If you knew someone was breaking in—why were you just standing here, not calling nine-one-one?”

“Because I’m on a lot of Nyquil. For all I knew, you could’ve been a hallucination.” She fell to her couch beside her dropped phone and glared at me.

Her being sick did explain the way she looked right now, and a certain bleariness to her eyes.

I pulled out my phone to send off a message. “You could’ve called,” I complained.

Lia rolled her eyes and shrugged. “You could’ve texted,” she said, then sighed. “Look—I know I’m fucked up?—”

“Shut up.” I interrupted her immediately. “There’s a lot of men that’d pay good money to be fucked up with you.”

She gave me a soft smile and then licked cracked lips. “But you’re not one of them.”

“I can’t, Lia.” My phone beeped, and I put it away. “Are you going to come back in when you’re through with this?” I asked, gesturing at her current state.

“Do you really want me to?”

She looked incredibly hurt, and I could hear the weakness in her voice.

I had done that to her.

And I wanted to do worse.

“Yeah,” I answered truthfully. “But—lemme show you why. Take off your pants.”

50

LIA

"You ditched me for her!”

“Because she was lying!” I couldn’t believe that Jessica’s selfishness might have cost me my chance with Sarah. “I only wanted to be a good person—” I started, and she pierced me with her eyes.

“I’m sick of the men in my life trying to be good!” she shouted at me, with her whole chest. “I just want you to want me!” It was practically a howl, and then she collapsed in on herself, fresh tears streaming down her face. “Enough to stick around and not die,” she sobbed, and I couldn’t help it, I took her into my arms.

Sarah let me. She wiped her face on my chest and then kept crying as I held her. I realized that if Mason were still here, she and I would never have had a chance—but that that would’ve been okay, because I loved him too.

“You realize Mason didn’t have a choice, right?” I asked, and she nodded against me. “He would’ve never, ever left you otherwise.”

—Caleb, from One of a Thousand Wishes by A. R. McGeorge

He said it all casual like, and then turned to retrieve his lockpicks from my door, close it, then lock it shut behind him.

And he seemed genuinely surprised when my pants were still on when he turned back around.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked him. “You realize—I live here. And—I think you just broke up with me.”

“See? That’s why I want you back. Your cunning insights. Now—take off your pants.”

“What the fuck, Rhaim,” I complained, as he came to crouch in front of me—and then pulled a goddamned knife out from somewhere on his person.

“Take them off. Or I will take them off you.”

It was a simple statement—backed up by every inch of him seething with simmering intent.

“These are my favorite! Don’t you fucking dare!” I shouted, scooting backwards in panic on my couch. I had no idea what he wanted to do to me, but none of the options were good. “I haven’t showered in two days,” I pleaded. “I can’t breathe—I’m not sexy!”