Nightfall (Devil's Night 4)

“Then go home,” he ordered me, turning away.

I whipped around, still trying to catch my breath. “I was here first.”

He looked from the girl back to me, a smile playing in his eyes. “Suit yourself.”

Leaving her, he stalked toward me again, and I backed up until I hit the edge of the pool. He stopped and fiddled with something under the water.

In a moment, he leaned over and pulled the black mesh shorts he was wearing in the wrestling room out of the water and threw them over my head, onto the pool deck.

I stopped breathing.

Whistles and hoots echoed in the room, and I stared up into his eyes, the moments stretching to an eternity as he waited for me to do something, and I almost thought he wanted me to.

Instead, I turned around and grabbed the ladder.

But he took my arm and pulled me back, my body slamming into his chest.

I whipped around and shoved hard against his chest, but he barely moved.

Anger boiled in my gut. His hand was still wrapped around my arm, and for a moment, I almost let my eyes drop down to the water to see if he really was naked.

Raising my hand, I slammed it across his face again and shoved him in the chest, pushing him away. The girl was gone. I had no idea where.

“You grab me again, and I won’t care about the consequences,” I growled low.

Turning around, I started to climb the ladder.

But then he said behind me, “Stay.”

“No.” I climbed out of the pool, water dripping down my body as their patronizing whistles went off around the room.

“Why not?” he called out.

“Because you’re disrespectful.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “I was working out here. Your mansions all have pools. Get out and go home, why don’t you?”

He stared at me, and I was just about to turn away and leave, but then he yelled, “Guys!” His eyes stayed on me. “Do me a favor? Get out and go home.”

“Huh?” someone said.

“What?” came another voice.

“I mean it,” he told them. “Go home. Now.”

I narrowed my eyes. Aw, what a gesture. Flexing his muscles to prove he had the strength of a playground bully and the moral compass of a tube sock.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the bench, picking up my towel.

Water sloshed behind me, and grumbles continued, slowly fading away as the locker room doors opened and closed.

When I turned around only Will remained, staring at me from where I left him in the pool.

“Why don’t you like me?” he asked.

I ignored him, wringing out my ponytail.

“And what happened to your legs?” he questioned next.

I tensed, but I didn’t look down to see what he was talking about. Minor bruises dotted my legs, but my arms, torso, and back were worse. I’d made sure to cover those with the rash guard.