Hate me

Aspen

I roam my gaze over the dance floor, watching my peers dance in their elegant dresses and dapper tuxedos as colorful lights illuminate the large ballroom. 

At least they’re having fun.  

I went with an Old Hollywood theme for prom, so there was a red carpet upon entry, and various movie film reel decorations placed around the room. I also managed to get a photo booth, so everyone could take pictures with their friends for an extra keepsake. 

However, my favorite thing is the large movie screen depicting timeless actors and actresses via a projector.

Smiling to myself, I make my way over to the punch bowl. God knows I didn’t have the best time at Black Mountain, but it’s still a little bittersweet that it’s all coming to an end. 

Then again, I’m excited to see what the future holds. Especially at Stanford. 

A weird twist goes through my chest. 

I’m not sure what will happen with Knox and me. I want us to make it, but he doesn’t seem interested in what happens after we graduate. 

Or making me happy. 

I peer down at my pleated satin floor-length yellow dress. It’s fairly simple compared to some of the other dresses being worn tonight, but that’s why I love it.

Too bad my boyfriend never got to see me in it. 

Heart sinking, I reach for a paper cup so I can pour myself some punch. 

I grip the ladle but freeze when I spot someone walking toward me out of the corner of my eye. 

My breath catches as I take in Knox’s dark jeans and black hoodie. However, it’s the intense way he’s staring at me as he moves that makes my skin hum and my knees go weak. 

He’s looking at me like no one else exists in the world. 

Like I’m the only thing he can see. 

I place the cup down on the table as he approaches. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

He doesn’t answer as he takes my hand. Then, to my utter surprise, he leads me to the dance floor. 

The DJ switches gears to a slow song and Knox’s arms close around my waist as the first few bars of, “Nothing’s Go

I want to pinch myself to make sure this is really happening. 

I peer into his eyes as we sway to the music. I have so many questions burning a hole inside me…but suddenly none of them matter. 

Because he’s here…for me. 

And that tells me everything I need to know. 

Closing my eyes, I press my cheek to his shoulder, smelling his scent and sinking against his warmth. 

His hands slip to my hips and his grip tightens, like he wants to touch me in all the ways only he can, but he’s trying to control himself because we’re in public. 

My eyes flutter open and I’m suddenly hyper aware that everyone’s staring at us. No doubt confused because not only is he my stepbrother…Knox and I hate each other. 

Well, we used to hate each other. 

Now we’ve found the other end of the spectrum. 

My cheeks heat as an uncomfortable feeling brews in my gut. Knox prefers to lurk in the shadows and loathes being the center of attention, which we very clearly are right now. 

I’m about to tell him we can stop, but his eyes darken, and he rasps, “I don’t care.” 

My heart stops as he tilts my chin up and then races into a full-blown gallop when his lips crash against mine. 

Strong hands move up my back until one is cupping my neck while his lips press against mine harder, urging me to open my mouth. The first touch of his tongue sends a jolt of electricity coursing through me. The second one lights my entire body up. 

I lean in, opening my mouth wider as he kisses me with so much hunger, I shiver all over. 

The hand on my neck constricts, demanding I stay in this moment with him. And I do, because I honestly don’t want to be anywhere else. 

I just want to be with him, because even though it should be wrong, nothing has ever felt so right. 

A deep groan vibrates in his chest, and holy hell, I don’t care who is watching or who might object. I want him to hike up my gown and take me right here. 

We must be on the same page because he breaks the kiss and his fingers wrap around my wrist before tugging me out of the room like a man on a mission. 

He’s walking so fast I can barely keep up in my heels. 

I expect him to open the door to the backseat when we approach his jeep, but he yanks on the passenger door instead.

“Get in.” 

I don’t know what happened or the cause of it, but his demeanor is different than it was a moment ago.  

He walks over to the driver’s side and hurries inside. My senses sharpen with awareness when the engine roars to life and I hear the click of the lock on the doors. 

“What’s wrong?” 

His jaw hardens before he turns and reaches into the backseat. 

My confusion and concern reach new heights when he drops a small black duffle bag on my lap. 

“There’s some cash and clothes in there.” He digs his hand inside the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out what looks like a bus pass. “Your bus leaves in forty minutes. It will take you to New York where you will hide out until the person I hired finds you and gives you a new passport and I.D so you can go to Canada.” 

My mouth falls open and I shake my head. I feel like I have whiplash because I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. 

“You’re not making any sense, Knox. Why are you taking me to a bus stop? Why am I ru

“Because I need to keep you safe,” he grits out, the veins in his neck straining against his skin. “So, for once in your goddamn life, don’t fight with me, Stray. Just do what I fucking tell you.” 

I want to argue—because this is insane—but both the uneasiness and conviction in his tone have me nodding. 

“Okay. But first, I need you to tell me what it is I’m ru

Because there is no way I’m leaving him and getting on that bus until I know what’s got him so on edge to the point he expects me to willingly flee the freaking country. 

His hand clenches around the steering wheel as he reverses out of the parking lot. “There’s no time to explain. Just get on that bus.” 

I glare at him because you’d think he’d know me better than that. He can’t demand I uproot my entire life in the blink of an eye without some kind of explanation. 

“I’m not doing a damn thing until you start talking.” 

Tension locks his jaw as he drives down the road. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk, but he knows I won’t oblige if he doesn’t. 

After what feels like an eternity, he speaks. “I know who murdered those girls.” Shock roots me to the seat as I process his statement, however the next words out of his mouth send me reeling. “And if I don’t get you the fuck out of here tonight…you’ll be next.” His voice drops. “I can’t let that happen.” 

Nerves tangle my insides, paralyzing my heart and lungs. “Who killed them?” 

His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath, and he looks so disgusted—so tormented—I want him to pull over so I can wrap my arms around him. 

His eyes cut to mine. There’s a flicker of shame in them before they turn hard and he averts his gaze. 

“My father.” 

I rub my temples, not understanding any of this. Yes, his dad is an asshole. Worse than an asshole—he’s a horrible human being. 

But a killer?  How can that be? He’s in the FBI for crying out loud. He’s supposed to be the person catching murderers, not the person committing them.