Page 95 of Boys Who Hunt
“You two don’t get along?” I ask.
Couldn’t hurt to get more information.
She shakes her head. “We’re like the opposite of two peas in a pod. I’m happy; he’s insane. I like college; he wants to avoid it at all cost. I’m friends with Mavis; he thinks she’s weird. I like hearts and flowers and butterflies and the sun.” She shows me the unicorn slapped on her chest. “And he likes death.”
He definitely likes death, and that unicorn shirt she’s wearing sure seems familiar.
Suddenly, her eyes zoom in on something while her pupils dilate, and it immediately makes me turn around.
Levi Torres just entered the hallway, swagger on point as he casually tosses his bag over his shoulder and dumps a freshly smoked cigarette into the bin, then runs his fingers through his short, smoky hair.
“No, don’t look!” Aspen hisses, and she grasps my shoulders and turns me back around again.
I snigger into the palm of my hand.
“Well anyway, gotta run,” she swiftly says. “Class is starting. See you later, okay?”
“See ya!” I say, but she’s already run off.
Whatever that is about, I’m not going to mess with it. I have enough shit to deal with on my own.
Heath suddenly passes by me, his mischievous eyes briefly connecting with mine, and the air runs thick with both tension and intense heat as I’m reminded of the last time we saw each other … when he had his thick cock down my throat in the forest.
I clear my throat.
“Done any late-night biking these last few days, thief?” he suddenly asks. “You might want to cover your tracks next time.” He glares at me over his shoulders before walking off.
And my whole skin erupts into goose bumps right there on the spot as the realization slowly dawns on me.
Heath knows it was me who watched them kill.
Heath
Hours later
I takea quick lunch break between my classes at the Skull and Serpent Society house because I don’t like the taste of the food in the cafeteria. Four more sushi rolls lie in the fridge, and my mouth already waters at the sight of them.
I snatch them out and place them on a plate, then sit down on the couch and munch down on them. I don’t even need soy sauce; they’re that delicious. These might even cure my depression one day.
“Are you eating my lunch again?”
I nearly choke on the fish as I lean up right when Elliot Fletcher walks in.
“No, it’s fine, go ahead, I’m not hurt or anything,” he says, waving it off.
“Sorry. Didn’t know it was yours.”
“Yeah, you did.” He laughs it off. “But you don’t care.”
I shrug. “I was hungry.”
“Just say you want me to bring some for you next time I visit Dad’s restaurant.”
“Bring me some next time, please,” I say immediately, then shove more sushi down my throat. “It’s delicious.”
“I know.” He opens the fridge and takes out a sandwich instead. “This yours?”
I shake my head.