Page 23 of Lethal Attraction

Thalia

“Ihave to pee. I have to fucking pee,” I sing as I turn onto the familiar gravel drive that connects the compound. Twenty hours in the car with minimal stops has proven to be a bitch, and I’m on the verge of pissing myself as I pull behind Alana’s Porsche.

The Audi I’m in purrs gently, and I cut the engine as I toss the door open. I linger for longer than necessary, fisting the neckline of the shirt I found on the backseat and taking another hit of Reed’s scent.

Fuck! He smells like bergamot, leather, and grapefruit. It’s bright and sharp while still having a rugged edge to it. Ever since I slipped the old t-shirt on, I’ve been lifting it to my nose every couple of hours to get another fix. I can’t stop letting it wash over my senses.

I’m addicted.

And I never want to wash this. Or return this car. I want it to remember him by.

“Ugh! He’s a penis, Thalia!” I rip the visor down before pointing at myself in the mirror with a disappointed scowl. “You have a fun drawer for a reason! Shove some silicone up there and suck it up!”

I turn the car off before dipping into the night. It’s roughly around twelve in the morning as I scale the side of Alana and Connor’s home. I get right under their bedroom window before pulling my ladder out of the bush and propping it against their window sill. As I climb, my bladder screams in retaliation for my nighttime activities.

Their window is locked. Naturally.

What is up with people locking their windows? This would be ten times easier on me if they weren’t so damn responsible.

I pull my debit card out of my pocket before sliding it through the seal and popping the lock. As I slide the glass pane up, I’m not subtle as I clamber through it until I face plant on my best friend’s bedroom floor.

“Huh?!” Connor shoots up in bed, doing that weird thing he’s always done since we were kids. He acts as if he’s coming straight out of a flashback or something as he peers around for danger.

He scares the shit out of Alana with it all the time.

My best friend rises groggily, sitting up and placing a hand on her husband’s chest. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“They’re here!” He mumbles drunkenly.

“Who?” Alana scrubs a hand over her face.

I stand up from the floor. “He’s talking about me—”

Alana screams as she latches onto her husband tightly, who looks like he’s being yanked straight from sleep paralysis hell and into another nightmare as he joins her in her shrieking.

“Stop screaming!” I wave frantically. “It’s just me!”

“Thalia?!” Alana places her hand over her heart as the other pushes her pink bonnet back.

“Hey, guys.”

“Fucking Christ,” Connor pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. “Stop breaking in!”

I hold up a finger. “Yeah, one sec. I need your bathroom.” I dip into the connected room, shutting the door before relieving my bladder and washing my hands. When I step out, I smile as I dry my hands. “What are you two up to?”

Alana’s arms are crossed as she tilts her chin towards the door. “Let’s talk downstairs.”

Oh…

I’m in trouble.

“Can’t we just talk up here?” I laugh nervously. When my best friend doesn’t respond, I turn on my heel. “Downstairs it is.”

“Let me get this straight…” Alana lifts her praying hands to her lips as she takes a deep breath. “Your phone died, and that’s why none of us heard from you?”

She’s currently pacing in front of me, still dressed in her adorable pink nightie with white lace. Her husband is seated beside me, avoiding eye contact with me as he remains silent.

“I called Bailey and told her that Brooks is trying to kill her,” I shrug as I scratch at the back of my neck.