Page 32 of Slick & Spooky

He exhales once and his eyes darken in real time, pupils dilating into something possessive and starved.

“You’re mine now,” I add and for good measure, I reach down, curl my fingers in the waistband of his sweats, and tug once pulling him against me. “But more importantly... I’m yours. So act like it.”

The shake of his head feigns disappointment, but I know better. I see the twitch of his lip as he fights a smile, the tension in his forearms as if he’s holding back from grabbing me right here in front of everyone.

He’s not disappointed. He’s doomed. Doomed in the way a man is when he knows he’s about to let a Finley ruin him while he’s forced to enjoy every second of it.

The smile that spreads across his handsome face is the kind that promises more trouble than I’ve ever known and the kind I’m ready to meet head-on.

The room’s still watching, but I don’t care. I turn my back on him and make my way toward the stairs, not sparing Tripp or my pledge brothers a second glance.

They can talk. They will. But I’ve already made peace with it.

I never needed to ask. I never needed to beg. Knox came willingly, and if he hadn’t I’d have taken him anyway. I won’t shrink to make space for others.

I’m done folding myself into boxes that can’t hold me.

Let them wonder why I shine. I stopped asking for permission to glow.

EPILOGUE

ONE YEAR LATER

KNOX

The demon twink I call my boyfriend is trying to ruin my life.

He’s standing in my room with an armful of plastic bags wearing a look that’s nothing but the bright-eyed optimism that usually precedes disaster.

“Okay, hear me out,” he says.

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

He pulls out an oversized arrow and a bottle of fake blood. “You’ll be a victim.”

“Of what?”

“Love.”

I stare at him. “What will you be?”

He chuckles. “Cupid.”

I blink once. “You want to wear a couple’s costume to a frat Halloween party.”

He nods, proud of himself. “It’s poetic.”

“It’s codependent,” I say.

He grins, all teeth. “It’s honest.”

I could tell him he’s out of his mind, but he’s already slathering fake blood onto the arrow, humming some off-key love song under his breath.

This is how it’s been for almost a year. He decides what he wants, argues his case, and somehow still gets his way. I tell myself I’m holding my ground, but the truth is I start giving in before he even finishes talking.