Almost a minute later, we were standing beside a large, black SUV with tinted windows, and I swallowed something hard.
It looked like a giant, black death trap. I was almost a hundred percent sure there were dead bodies in here at some point.
Jase only glanced over at me with his familiar dark smile, opening the door to the car and gesturing for me to get in.
I did, reluctantly, and I sat down when he closed the door behind me.
Seconds later, he got in the driver’s side, starting the car.
“Is it safe?” I asked him. “It’s had check-ups and everything?”
I was more asking about his driving skills than the car, and it seemed like he knew it. I could tell he also knew I was asking if he was secretly going to kill me in this thing, because he smiled darkly when I thought it.
“Yes,” was his answer.
He just answered all of my questions with one word.
And we drove off seconds later.
Almost five minutes passed by, and we rode in complete silence.
I could feel the shadows of his dangerous amusement swarming around me.
And after about a minute longer, he rolled the car up my driveway and parked, glancing down at me.
“My sister isn’t home,” I said aloud, glancing around for her (and my) car.
I wondered why she wasn’t picking up the phone.
I then looked over at Jase, bones chilling when I saw his smile widening a touch.
Oh, shit. That was a horrible thing to say to him.
I immediately got out of the car and started to the front door, prying my keys in the lock and shoving open the wood, but instead of driving away, I heard his footsteps follow me.
I turned toward him, glaring. “Don’t you have… things to do than walk me to the door?”
“Whoever said I was walking you to the door?” he said then, moving right past me and entering the house.
“Wha—”
I broke off, rushing in after him. “Excuse me?!”
He glanced over, smirking still. “What? I assumed you wanted company.”
Not from him! Never from him!
He was dangerous.
“What movies do you have?” he asked me, glancing around from the living room.
I stared at him, jaw dropped.
What are you doing in my house?!
I then rushed over to him. “You can’t just barge in here! My parents would kill me!”
He gave me a sly smile. “Are your parents’ home?”
I shrank back, hesitating.
“Your lack of response tells me, no.”
I gazed up at him then. “You need to go. If anyone finds you in here, I will be murdered.”
And deep inside I knew that he would be the one to kill me, so I didn’t really mean those words.
“Come, now,” he said then, chuckling as he stepped over to the kitchen, “I can make pancakes. You must be hungry. Also,” he glanced over at me with a dark smile, “it’s late and I don’t think leaving you alone would be the best idea. You’re looking paler and paler every day.”
Yeah! Because of YOU.
I was wrong… mostly it was what happened at the diner. It was still bugging me, but I knew trusting him wasn’t the best idea either.
He got to work in the kitchen then, and I stared at him in shock.
But I finally grumbled in protest and shut the front door. “Just don’t use knives or anything sharp, really.”
He glanced over at me with a smirk. “Why?”
“I don’t trust you.”
His teeth showed through his grin then. “You think I might stab you? Shank you?”
Or slit my throat, yes, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
He chuckled and gazed back to what he was doing, gently pouring some flower into a mixing bowl.
I watched him as he gracefully cracked two eggs, added buttermilk, and started mixing them with a whisk.
He moved so gracefully… without tense muscles and nervous ticks.
How did he hide his emotions so well?
Jase just gazed over at me with a smile. “You still look pale. You must be very hungry.”
Yes, because he was still in my HOUSE and came in uninvited! And how do you get pale when you’re hungry? What brought that assumption?
Not to mention, the fact that he was standing in front of me, two millimeters away from the knife rack was relatively unsettling, even watching him glance at it every now and then had my nerves on fire.
I was ninety percent sure he was a serial killer.
And the other ten percent wondered if he was one… then how did he have so much restraint? It was nerve-wracking.
Weren’t serial killer notorious with lack of restraint? I thought that’s why they killed in the first place.
He had some kind of issue with feelings, though. Almost all of his emotions were amusement, irritation, and amusement.
I could never see a speck of sadness or depression in his eyes, sometimes only sympathy over specific subject I talked about with him. He never showed anger, resentment, or disapproval. And only sometimes he didn’t look happy with a subject, but I couldn’t tell what he was really feeling toward the subject.
Either he hid his emotions well or he didn’t have them.
He inched toward the knife rack again, and I stiffened, heart pounding hard against my chest.
“Stay a foot away from the knife rack,” I told him, making him glance over at me.
I just glared. “Don’t get near it.”
He only smiled, his black eyes glistening in the darkness. “You think I’m going to hurt you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
He just set the whisk aside and gazed up at me. “You’re afraid of me.”
“I feel like that’s what you’ve been going for,” I stated then, breaths shaking. “You’re very good at looking intimidating. All your facial expressions are that.. smile.”
“Smile?” he echoed, chuckling. “What kind of smile?”
“Like a fox or a wolf,” I stated as he locked eyes with me. “A predator hunting a prey.”
“You think I’m hunting you?”
“I know you’re up to something,” I stated then, voice rough. “You are incredibly secretive, and you won’t ever tell me anything about you.”
He gazed back down to what he was doing, and I watched as he started whisking again. “You don’t want to know about me.” He glanced up, smirking. “Not yet, at least.”
What the hell did that mean?
He went back to his meal and pulled out a pan, setting it on the stove and caught the flame, waiting for it to heat.
I swallowed something hard when he glanced at the knife rack again, and his smile widened a touch.
My heart slammed hard against my chest, and I decided to come up with an excuse for him to leave.
“My stomach hurts,” I said then, rubbing my belly, “I’m queasy. I think I might take a rain check.”
He smiled over at me. “Pancakes are nice on the stomach. You need to eat something, anyway. Judging by the looks of you, you haven’t eaten today.”
He could tell just by looking at me?
“I have to shower.”
“Go ahead,” he said then, the darkness of his smile swarming me again. “I don’t care.”
No… I mean, it was a lie but… leaving him in the house alone while I’m showering was not the best idea. Especially knowing that he had a kitchen full of murder equipment at his disposal and that he was excellent at being slick and quiet.
I knew very well it was best to keep an eye on him.
“Dinner’s going to be ready soon,” he said then, glancing at me again. “You want to do the toppings?”
“Uh, no, I’m good.”
His smile darkened a touch. “It’s just toppings.”
And I didn’t want to be near him right now.
“I’m good,” I said again.
He went back to what he was doing and set freshly made pancakes on the plates. “Your loss.”
And I watched as he sprayed whipped cream and dropped chocolate chips onto the pancakes, and he carried them over to the kitchen counter, waiting for me.
I remained in place.
He gazed over at me. “Are you going to stand there? I admire the view, but your food is getting cold.”
“I’m not eating that,” I stated then, crossing my arms over my chest.
His smile darkened as if he read my thoughts. “It’s not poisoned.”
I was silent, watching him carefully.
He just sighed and shook his head, though the smile was still there. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I didn’t believe him. Well… I wanted to. Or was it the other way around? I believed him but I didn’t want to?
I just kept my arms crossed.
“Your shell is hard to break,” he said then, smirking up at me. “You’re making this very hard.”
Oh, me? I’m the one making this hard?
I just grumbled in protest and scooted into the seat beside him, still refusing to eat.
“Were any of the ingredients I used toxic?” he said then, taking a bite of his pancakes. “See? I can eat it and I’m fine.”
I just glared. “Maybe you’re immune to it.”
“Immune to poison?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
He sighed then and continued eating his food. “You’ll eat it eventually.”
I just gazed down at the plate, glaring at the food.
Like hell, I will.
He just watched me with a smile. “How is your hair so black? It’s mesmerizing.”
“It’s called genetics.”
“Your genetics are perfection,” he said then, making me spare him a glance.
I just rolled my eyes and picked up my fork, picking at the pancake like a light touch would set off a bomb.
He scooted off the chair then, placing his plate in the sink as he started washing it.
I stared at him.
His back was to me, but I could his feel his danger swarming around me.
“It’s late,” I said then, “you should go.”
He glanced back at me then, smirking. “Shoving me out the door already?”
“I’m tired,” I stated then.
“Where is your bedroom?” he asked me, glancing upstairs.
I stared when he turned and started up the staircase.
“H—hey!” I said, rushing after him.
By the time I made it to him, he was already in my room, glancing around.
“Mmmm. Clean,” he mused.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, stopping behind him as he glanced back at me.
“Just wanted to see if you had any hot guy posters,” he said then, looking around. “Looks like you do not.”
I sighed and stepped past him, grumbling as I shuffled my school material into my backpack and shoved that under my desk.
When I stood back up, he was sitting on my bed, going through my sketchbook.
“You can ask first,” I said, attempting to snatch it from him, but failed.
“Are these all me?” he said, gazing up with a smirk.
I stared at him then, feeling myself growing weary when my eyes locked on his form.
Making me dinner without my permission, following me everywhere, coming into my house uninvited.
Why wasn’t I as mad as I should’ve been?
Jase continued going through my sketchbook, watching the images curiously as he flipped page by page.
He was so lean and so thin, his stance relaxed. It was like he was prepared for everything to come flying at him, knives, swords. It was like he feared nothing, including death, and was so self-confident that he could barely feel other emotion other than content and amusement.
Who was he? What was he?
What were those tattoos covering his neck and chest? What did they represent?
Why did he come here? For me? Was it only me that he wanted?
Why, though? What about me did he want?
And slowly, I stared feeling something spark inside me… a curiosity… no, a desire. A desire that burned deep within and eradicated every single thing I could use in my defense to resist.
And then a thought popped in my head, making my lips part.
I want to kiss him.
He gazed up then, brows arching. “What?”
I stared at him helplessly.
He watched me back, but finally smiled as the darkness inside him crept into me. “You’re staring again.”
I just stepped toward him, and he didn’t look surprised now.
I crawled onto his lap, and he gazed up at me curiously when I straddled him.
I then stared into his eyes, deeply… darkly.
They were so black… I could never see his pupil. It was like his black soul was contagious, bleeding into me, attracting me to him.
He didn’t say anything, no smart remarks, nothing.
He just leaned forward slowly, lightly catching the back of my head as I closed my eyes.
And his lips pressed to mine.
I moaned a little without meaning to, feeling his heat swarm me as if his soul was building onto mine.
He tasted so good though… he tasted like he smelled… like pine and earth. He was gorgeous.
I buried myself onto him, taking slow breaths as his hands set on my hips and kept me in place.
But I heard the front door open, and my lashes parted.
“Emmmmmmmaaaaaaa!” Lizzy called.
I immediately pulled away from Jase, staring at him in shock as he gazed up at me, smirking.
Oh, God… what did I do?
I looked back out my bedroom door, finding it closed.
I then gazed back down at Jase. “Can you climb out a window?”
He just pressed his lips to my jaw, gently moving down my neck as I gasped. “So what if she finds us? It doesn’t matter.”
I tried to ignore the heat flashing through me. “I will never hear the end of it. You need to go.”
He just pressed his lips to my neck, making my heart race when he gently nibbled the skin. “Go where? Lower?”
“Jase.”
“Emmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaa!” she called again.
I scrambled off his lap then, opening my window and pointing out.
“What if I get hurt and fall?” he asked me, smirking.
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
Because he looked immune to everything including pain, but I didn’t answer to that. “You need to go.”
He scooted off the bed and stepped over to me. “Goodbye kiss?”
“Go.”
“Damn,” he said then, hopping onto the windowsill.
He then looked back over to me, smirking. “See you in psych.”
And he hopped off.
I slammed the window shut immediately, pressing my hands to it as I stared at the wall helplessly.
What have I done?
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