Pale skin. Too pale.
Baggy clothes. Too baggy.
And then the smell hits me. Stale cigarettes.
The bitter, sour scent floods the room, curling into my lungs and turning my stomach violently.
Whoever climbed through my window…is not the boy I was expecting.
“What the hell?” My words are sharp and breathless in the suffocating quiet of my bedroom.
He doesn’t move. He just stands there.
“Lee?”
Confusion tangles with the knot forming in my chest. I haven’t seen him in months, not since that night at the party. The night he pissed off Collins enough for us to leave early.
The last time I remember looking at Lee, I was wrapped in Collins’ arms as he walked us out of the house.
So why is he standing in my bedroom?
“In the flesh.” His voice is low, amused.
A crooked smirk slowly spreads across his face, just visible in the dim light, and the sight of it makes nausea crawl up my throat. There’s something wrong with the way he looks at me.
“Why are you here?” My voice comes out smaller than I want it to. Weak.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he starts walking toward the bed.
Slow.
Unhurried.
One step at a time.
The sound of his heavy footsteps echo far too loudly in the small room, each one sending a new spike of panic through me.
My hands tighten around the blanket tangled in my lap.
Suddenly, I want to scream.
I know it’s dramatic. I know it’s irrational. But something about Lee has always made my skin crawl.
Ever since the first time I saw him at the summer festival, something unnerved me about him. Like something about him is off. Like danger follows him.
“I told you,” he says calmly, voice dripping with quiet satisfaction. “I have to tell you something.”
“What—what the hell is it?” My pulse pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.
The room suddenly feels too small. The air too thick.
I blink rapidly, fighting the burning behind my eyes as dread begins curling through my stomach.
Something isn’t right.
Something is very wrong.
Lee takes another step closer.