He headed inside the garage with long purposeful strides, swinging the baseball bat from his fingertips. Not pausing in his stride, he reached out and slammed his hand over a button on the wall and the door rolled back into place as the overhead lights automatically flickered on.
I stared around me. This place was like a car showroom. Gleaming metal machines sat in neat rows. There had to be at least twenty cars in here, all the same shade of polished silver.
I raised a brow. Weird, but whatever.
A loud crash echoed through the cavernous space, and I watched in horror as Kian swung the bat right at the centre of the windshield of the car in front of him. The car alarm began blaring as he struck it again and again, spiderwebs spreading across the glass. He then turned his attention to the hood, bringing the bat down with a shout of rage.
I finally took action, running up to him and ripping the bat from his grip. “What the fuck, man? What the actual fuck?”
His body shook as I grappled with him, both of us more or less matched in strength. I kept talking to him, willing him to snap out of whatever it was he was going through. “Kian. Talk to me.”
Abruptly his struggles stopped. “If I do this, they might come home.”
Fuck.
Those eight words, spoken with so much despair, told me everything I needed to know for now.
I squeezed his shoulders, before releasing him. The alarm still blared around us as I left Kian slumped against the car and strode to the side of the garage, where a thick, heavy chain lock hung on the wall above a motorcycle. Lifting it from its hook, I tested the weight in my palm, running my thumb across the attached padlock, before a slow smile spread across my face. I crossed the garage back to Kian at a run, jumping up onto the hood of the car and swinging the chain with all my might, smashing it down on top of the roof.
My whole focus narrowed to the swing of the chain, and the thunk as it hit the car roof over and over, marring and denting the metal, until I became aware of Kian, up on the hood of the car with me. He reached out, gripping my arms and stopping my movements. “We need to leave. Someone will have called the police by now.”
I allowed him to take the chain from my hands and tug me down to the floor, the adrenaline leaving my body in a sudden rush. On autopilot, I stepped towards the garage door, but he pulled me in the opposite direction, to an interior door with a panel next to it.
As we came to a stop in front of the door and Kian placed his right hand on the fingerprint sensor, I realised his other hand was holding mine.
The door clicked open and he dropped my hand, pushing me into what looked like a utility room. I turned back in time to see him face the blinking security camera in the garage. He pushed his mask up on top of his head and flipped off the camera, then spun around and slammed the door to the garage shut behind him.
“We’ll go out the back.” He took a step towards me. Then another. Reaching out, he pushed up my mask, his eyes seeking out mine. The corners of his lips lifted into a crooked grin, and I felt my own answering smile tugging at my lips. “How did it feel? Breaking the rules?”
“With you?” My smile widened. “I think I like it.”
He leaned his head forwards, just the tiniest bit, but it was enough to make his nose brush against my own. His breath hit my lips as his words came out in a husky rasp.
“I think I like corrupting you, Golden Boy.”
6
“We never uploaded our prank.” Kian threw the words out casually as we made our way down the winding cliff pathway that led down to the cove.
“Wait.” Stopping dead, I gripped his bicep. “The whole Halloween pranks contest was your idea, wasn’t it?”
He scuffed the dirt path with his toe. “Yeah—mine and Carter’s. But it’s not important. Not anymore.” His raven hair, ruffled by the sea breeze, fell across his forehead as he turned and smirked at me. “I might’ve taken one or two photos of you going all Rambo on my dad’s Bentley. Maybe I’ll upload one as my entry.”
I gave him a warning look. “Don’t even think about it.” Shoving his shoulder playfully as I moved past him to continue down the path, I added, “If anything, it’d be my entry since I’m the one in the photo.”
He didn’t reply because by now we’d reached the bottom of the cliff and he was being carried away from me into the crowds of people. Someone thrust a beer into my hand, and I popped the top, lifting it to my mouth.
As I drank, I stared around me curiously. We were in a small, sandy cove, accessed by a tiny cliff path. Over to my left I could see the outline of what appeared to be a large cave entrance in the rocky cliff face, and beyond that there was a natural archway where the cliff had eroded, leading through to what I guessed might be another beach. People were grouped around a huge bonfire, music and talking mingling with the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. Colourful glowsticks littered the beach and decorated people’s bodies, most (other than the guys who had been a part of our Fright Night plans) clad in costumes, in true Halloween style.
“Want some company?” Anastasia Egerton, one of the hottest and most popular girls in Alstone High, stood in front of me, dressed in some kind of leather catsuit, glowsticks looped around her blonde head like a halo. Giving me a suggestive smile, she pressed her body against mine, sliding her hand up my chest.
Oh, man. “Sorry.” I placed my hand over hers and lifted it away from my body. “I’m, uh, gay.”
Her mouth fell into an O. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well…” I shrugged. “I haven’t broadcast it. Being the new guy and all.”
She nodded. “You don’t have to explain. I won’t say anything, despite what you might think of me. I wouldn’t share something like that.”