Chapter Seven

"Dawn? I swear if you’re hiding in here while I’m dealing with Mason’s dumbass friends, I’m going to kill you.”

The doorknob rattled.

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I was sure Hayden could feel it. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, bracing for the door to fly open and catch us locked together in the dark.

Hayden didn’t retreat an inch. Instead, his calloused palm slid slowly up the back of my neck, broad fingers biting into my skin his fingers pressing lightly against my skin steadying me against him, while the doorknob jiggled a second time

Then the footsteps shifted. Alessia’s voice drifted farther down the corridor.

“Dawn? Seriously, where did you go?”

The sound of her steps faded toward the stairs.

​I let out a long, shuddering exhale, my knees going so soft I almost slid straight down the front of him. Before I could scramble back, a low, gravelly vibration rumbled out of his chest against mine. 

“So that’s Alessia,” Hayden murmured, the tease thick in his voice.

I stiffened. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” His thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against the back of my neck. “Is she the one who made you freeze like you saw the angel of death?”

“Don’t play dumb,” I snapped, voice still shaky. I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. He kept me caged between his body and the door.

“That’s my best friend. The girl who spends seventy percent of her waking hours talking about your tattoos, your illegal lifestyle, and how she’s going to be your future wife.”

Hayden went still. In the dark I could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing against my hair.

“Never heard of her.”

“Are you actually insane?” I hissed. “She talks about you constantly. She tracks your schedule. She wears black mini dresses specifically hoping to run into you. And you’re standing here acting like she’s a ghost?”

​“I don’t pay attention to the ones who talk about me, sweetheart,” he said, his mouth dipping close enough that his lips brushed the shell of my ear, his voice rough as gravel. “I watch the ones who stand at their bedroom windows in the dark, looking down like they’re waiting for me to give them a reason to jump.”

My face flooded with a sudden, humiliating heat. That was when I realized my fingers were still knotted tightly in the front of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him down toward me.

​I yanked my hands back as if the fabric had burned my palms and stumbled sideways. Hayden’s eyes tracked every inch of the retreat, taking in the way my arms were wrapped tight around my own middle to hide the shakes.

The overhead lights gave a dull buzz and snapped back on, blindingly bright. Down the corridor, a chorus of drunk teenagers cheered at the sudden return of power. I let out a long breath, thinking the moment was broken—until his voice cut through the noise.

​“Does she enjoy the show as much as you do?” A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. “Because honestly… I think my performance is pretty solid.”

“You asshole.” lunged forward to shove him again, but he just leaned into the contact, crowding me back into the corner.

“You want to see it?” His voice dropped an octave, thick and dangerous. “I can unzip right here if you’re that desperate for a preview.”

I shoved him hard enough that my palm stung.

“You don’t deserve my best friend,” I said, the words tearing out of my throat before I could filter them “You’re nothing but a broken, damaged boy who takes his trauma out on everyone else.”

I didn’t stay wait to see the smugness wipe off his face. I didn't stick around for whatever ugly thing took its place.

​I slammed the door open and walked away.

By the time I made it back downstairs, Alessia was leaning heavily against the counter, nursing a red plastic cup.

“Hey,” I said, approaching carefully.

“Where have you been?” She squinted at me, suspicious. “I’ve been looking everywhere for the past ten minutes.” She downed a shot.

“Bathroom. I had to clean up.”

She reached for another. I stopped her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Hayden.”

My stomach dipped at the sound of his name.

“What about him?”

“I came here looking hot. Hoping he’d notice me. I’m not even sure he’s here.”

*He’s here, all right.*

“Come on,” I said, sliding an arm around her. “I’ll drive.”

“What are we gonna tell your mom?”

“Let me worry about that.”

---

How we made it home was a miracle. I barely knew how to drive and nearly clipped a guy sleeping near the curb on Elm Street, my hands clenching the wheel until my knuckles turned stark white. We slipped through the side entrance of my house only to spot Dizzy in the kitchen in his pajamas, half-asleep, pouring a glass of water.

I yanked Alessia down behind the couch and clamped a hand over her mouth until his footsteps retreated upstairs.

In my room I pulled off her heels, settled her under the covers, and listened to her mumble something that sounded a lot like “Fuck you, Hayden Vaughan.”

I dropped onto my own side of the bed and stared at the ceiling.

The words I’d thrown at him kept replaying. *Broken. Damaged. Taking your trauma out on people.* It was the meanest thing I’d ever said to anyone. I didn’t even know why I’d said it.

Without thinking, my eyes drifted toward the dark square of my window.

The low, guttural roar of a motorcycle engine rattled the glass. I swung my legs off the bed, parting the thin lace curtains just enough to see down into the driveway.

Hayden was back.

And he wasn't by himself.

Savannah Johansson slid off the back of the seat, unbuckling her helmet with long, manicured fingers before tossing it to him. Even from two stories up, the syrupy confidence in her voice cut right through the quiet night air.

“So this is the famous spot. Honestly, I expected something a little more reckless from a guy with your reputation.”

Hayden’s posture stiffened. “My reputation?”

“You know what I mean.” She stepped in close and slid her arms around his neck. "Beverly told me you were completely unhinged in bed. Figure it’s about time I checked if the rumors are actually true.”

Something ugly twisted in my chest. A small, stupid part of me wanted him to push her away.

Instead he settled his hands on her waist.

“Think you can handle me, rich girl?”

She leaned in, whispering something directly against the shell of his ear before pulling away, her hips swaying with deliberate slowness as she headed toward his front porch. Hayden let out a dark, quiet laugh, clicked the kickstand into place, and turned to follow her inside.

Then his chin llifted, his​ gaze cut straight up through the dark, locking dead onto mine.

For several agonizing seconds he just stood there under the dim porch light, his face totally unreadable, something raw and volatile burning behind his eyes. He didn't look away or pull that arrogant smirk onto his face. He just held my stare like he was daring me to keep watching.

Then he dismissed me completely and walked inside after her.

​I let the curtain drop from my hand.

I lay back down on the mattress beside my sleeping best friend, staring at the dark ceiling.

*Hate you too, Hayden Vaughan.*​​