Exhaling a slow breath, he jerks his chin at me. “I went to, what I assume is, your sister’s room first. That seems more you. Hot pink princess bullshit with the zebra print bedding.”
I quickly close my door, not wanting my sister to get home and see him in here. “How did you get in?”
But he ignores me and keeps going. “However, I don’t think it was your name in purple neon lights above the bed.” He starts laughing, probably at my sister’s stupid narcissistic decorating, and stands up. “Ryen, right?” he asks, looking around my room. “I must say, this is not at all what I expected.”
I’m a lot of what you’re not expecting, dickhead. “Get out.”
“Make me.”
I fist my hands. “How did you get in?”
“Through the front door.” He steps toward me. “So where is it?”
I pinch my eyebrows together, confused. “Where’s what?”
“My shit.” His teeth are bared, his smile gone.
His shit? What’s he talking about?
“Get out!” I yell. “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
“You seem nervous.”
“You think?!” I retort. “I don’t like strange guys in my house, and I really don’t like anyone in my room.”
“Don’t care,” he replies, looking bored. “You took something of mine. Two things of mine, actually, and I want them back.”
“No, I didn’t. Now get out!”
He reaches behind himself and pulls something out of the back of his jeans, holding it up. My face falls, and a knot tightens in my stomach.
Shit. My notebook.
A large, white leather-bound diary of rants and pity parties I’ve thrown for myself over the past three years, and something I don’t want anyone to see. Ever. Every bad thought or feeling I’ve ever had about myself, my family, and my friends, that I couldn’t voice out loud, is in that book.
How did he find it?
“Under the mattress isn’t exactly a novel idea, you know?” he says. “And yes, I read that part. And the other one. And the other one.”
My heart pounds in my ears, and a scream creeps its way up my throat.
I lunge for him.
I grab hold of the book, but he shoves me back, and I stumble onto the bed, his body coming down on mine.
I grunt and cry out, trying to get the book.
He reaches for something, and then my scissors from my desk is pointing at my face. I freeze, staring at the tip.
“Don’t worry,” he taunts in a dark voice. “I won’t make sure this falls into your mom’s hands. I’m going to rip out every fucking page and plaster them all over school, so listen loud and clear, you stupid cunt. I’m done talking to you, and I’m done looking at you. I want the locket, and I want the piece of paper you took at the Cove.”
“The Cove?” I gasp under the weight of his body. “Wha—“
What the hell is he talking about?
And then I pause as it hits me. The Cove. Last night. The piece of paper.
I want a lick while you still taste like you.
And then today… You taste like shit.
I stare at him, dumb-founded. “Oh, my God.”
That was his room?
I was right. There was someone there in the tunnel. He saw us.
And then I widen my eyes. He was the one who broke into my locker! That’s why nothing was missing. He didn’t find what he was looking for.
He darts to my side and snaps the scissors, and I wince as he brings the scissors back up, a few of my light brown hairs floating in the air.
“Stop!” I yell. “I don’t…I…”
His dark green eyes narrow on me, threatening and cutting right through me.
I growl, grappling for my pillow and reaching inside, pulling out a folded, worn piece of paper.
I shove it at his chest.
He takes the paper. “Now the necklace.”
“I didn’t take a necklace!” I shout. “Just the paper.”
He snaps the scissors at my hair again, and I scream. “Dammit! I told you! I didn’t take it! It—”
Ten. Ten was with me. He took it.
Shit.
“What?” Masen growls, probably seeing the realization on my face.
I breathe hard, flexing my jaw. “My friend was with me. I’ll get it. Alright? I’ll get it. Now get off me!”
He pauses, staring down at me. But eventually he pushes off the bed and tosses the scissors onto the desk, sliding the poem into his back pocket.