Page 29 of Riding the Sugar High

“So you make candy for people who wouldn’t normally be able to eat it?”

“Yeah.” I flash a wide grin at him. “I’ll make it for you too.”

“Thanks. I don’t want it.”

With an eye roll, I turn to the lush nature extending before us. “Right. God forbid it’d make you smile.” I take a step, and a stray rock sends me teetering precariously on the edge of disaster. My heart lurches in my chest as my arms frantically move in an attempt to keep myself from falling until I find my footing again.

“What do you know?” he mumbles as he studies me with an unimpressed gaze and an amused grin. “Youdidmake me smile.”

He walks away, and as I watch him confidently strut, with those broad shoulders and delectable ass, I dislike him so much, I’d actually love to make some candy for him, then administer it as a suppository.

Begrudgingly following him, I mumble, “I should have finished the job the first night.”

you shit scrunchies

Logan

I takeout a joint and light it up, watching as the sun sets in the distance. The edge of the wooden step is digging into my back, so I switch positions and rest my elbows on the porch’s wooden planks. I look up at the stars beginning to appear, then exhale and watch the smoke on its path upward before it vanishes in the backdrop of the sky.

I had to leave the house.

How has Primrose been here for twenty-four hours and managed to leave a mess in nearly every room? And on a related note, how many books can someone read simultaneously? Apparently, the answer is at least seven.

I’m also pretty sure she shits scrunchies. Blue with polka dots, pink with little cacti, a weird velvety red one. Scrunchies on my couch, on my table, on top of her books. None in her hair, though.

And the kitchen...good god, my kitchen. Every single baking item—even some I wasn’t aware I owned—is scattered on the counter and the table. My fridge is nearly empty after she took everything out and started making her concoctions, and I’m pretty sure my house will smell like sugar forever.

It’s only been a day, but it already feels like two weeks.

I bring the joint to my lips and inhale, feeling my muscles relax as the smoke fills my lungs again. I let it out, and a musky cloud surrounds me.

Josie didn’t show up today, and I don’t think it’s the sign I want to believe it is. If they had nothing but suspicion that I’m behind what happened, they’d be here, poking around, like they have before. So what if they’re not showing up because they do have something?

“Having a party?”

I straighten as Derek approaches the driveway on foot, his nasal voice and overconfident smirk irking me on the spot. I was expecting him, but seeing him still tenses me up in a way it’s never done before. I guess learning he posted Primrose’s list online is a key factor.

“Nah, looks like you’re alone.” He chuckles as he comes to a stop in front of me, rubbing his buzz-cut copper hair. “Can’t even keep a woman around, poor fucker.”

He leans forward, and my eyes follow the movement until he’s squeezing my shoulder. God, I’m going to break histiny, bony fingers.

“Get your hands off me,” I say, glaring as he steps back and whistles.

“Yikes. Same temper too, huh?”

“Happy to provide a practical example.”

He waves me off, still smirking like the asshole he is. Why is he staring at the house? Is he looking for Primrose? At this point, he must know she’s here.

I want to rip his eyes out.

“So, look.” He takes on a more serious tone. “I’m sure the trash can was a prank that went sideways, right? But I’ll need those pigs back.”

Oh, he needs the pigs back. Funny, because I also need something from him. Something that, like the pigs, should have never been his. Something he shouldn’t have shared with the whole world on his stupid social media. “Pigs? What pigs?”

“Come on, Logan. You’re not even making an effort to lie. I know you talked to the police.”

Looking away, I nod. “Oh, right. Someone failed in their attempt to roast you last night—how unfortunate.” I click my fingers. “Hey, question. Where did you get those piglets from?”