Page 87 of Belong With Me

Twenty-five

My phone slips from my hand and slams hard onto the hardwood floor, the sound jarringly loud against the rushing in my ears.

Lily’s other shoe is also on the floor of Warren’s closet.

Lily’s shoes.

InWarren’s closet.

Warren, myfriend, has Lily’s shoes. And this one hasbloodon it.

I know they’re her shoes. The first thing I noticed about her were these red stilettos and how she strutted around in them all night like she owned the place and her feet didn’t even hurt. These arehers—there’s even some dried mud and grass caked on the bottom from walking around Warren’s backyard that night after a storm had just passed.

“You okay? I heard a bang.”

I jump and spin around at Warren’s voice.

His eyes land on the shoe clutched in my hands and then zip up to my own widened ones.

“Siena . . .” he starts, and his whole demeanor toward me changes. I don’t recognize him after this shift: his voice is low and even, his hands raised in an innocent gesture, his face masked and calculating. I no longer feel like this is Warren, my friend, the one I can joke with and tease, the one who helps me forget about everything.

He takes a cautious step forward, and I reflexively take one back. Any benefit of the doubt I could’ve given Warren went right out the window with that action, with him carefully stalking toward me like a lion skillfully cornering its skittish prey.

If he’d just found her shoes at the party, then he wouldn’t be acting like I’ve stumbled on a secret.Andthey would’ve been given to the police as evidence. But they weren’t—they’re sitting in Warren’s “miscellaneous” closet where he thought they would never see the light of day until he forgot that they were there.

Calmly, so fucking calmly, like he’s trying not to scare me off, he says, “It’s not what it looks like.”

“This is Lily’s shoe.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s blood on it.”

“Yes.” His hands are still raised, his eyes darting from me to the shoe to the door behind me, then doing it over again. The air is so thick it squeezes my throat, presses on my rib cage.

He’s eerily composed as he takes another calculated step toward me, and I watch him, my mind all over the place.

“Let’s just talk about this,” he says, taking another step, and that finally pushes me over the edge and gets my brain working.

He must sense my subtle shift, because his eyes widen, and he drops the slow and careful act, instead rushing toward me. “Siena, don’t!”

I whip the shoe at Warren’s head, turning and sprinting for the door. I only know it connects because I hear the thump and Warren’s curse over my own heavy breathing.

I make it into Warren’s bedroom, but his thundering steps are right behind me. He’s calling my name, but I’m not slowing down to find out firsthand what happened to Lily. Terror rakes my spine when I feel him gaining on me, and suddenly I’m tackled to the floor.

I scream all the way down, but it’s just me and Warren in this huge, lonely house, and no one’s around to hear me. I land on my stomach on the rug with Warren’s heavy body on top of me.

“Stop it!” Warren wrestles me as I squirm, while I claw at the carpet to get away, bucking and kicking him off me. “Siena . . . I’m trying . . . not to . . . hurt you!”

That’s a straight-up lie considering he’s trying his damn best to restrain me. He’s pressed against me, keeping me face down on the carpet, his heavy weight pressing on my rib cage, making it hard to breathe.

My heart beats wildly, and I know deep down that if I don’t get out of here now, I may never make it out at all.

I elbow him hard in the head, and the shock of it loosens his grip just enough that I’m able to slip out of his grasp. I scramble on all fours and finally get up on both feet when he grabs my ankle and yanks. The momentum makes me lose my balance, and I fall forward. I can’t get my hands under me fast enough.

“Siena!”

I don’t remember landing. Just sharp pain, then blackness.