Chapter 6
Sunny's POV
I turned away from Rainey, shoving my hands deeper into my hoodie pockets. The dismissive "that sucks for you" had rolled off my tongue automatically, and I meant it. I had my own shit to deal with without taking on some random girl's problems.
"Wait!" she called out, jogging to catch up with me. "Please, just listen to me for one second."
I kept walking, not bothering to slow down. This was exactly the kind of complication I'd moved to Beacon Hills to avoid. "I already listened. Wasn't impressed."
She stepped right in front of me, forcing me to stop. I could hear her heartbeat racing, smell the fear and desperation radiating off her skin. Three months ago, I never would have noticed those things. Now they hit me whether I wanted them to or not, another reminder of how much my life had changed.
"I think you're the only one who can help me. I know this sounds pathetic, but could you please help me?"
I let my mouth curve into a smirk. She wasn't wrong about sounding pathetic, but at least she was self-aware about it. "You think I look like a fucking charity case?"
Her face went red, but she didn't back down. Stubborn. That was either going to serve her well or get her killed. "I know you probably think I'm some pathetic loser, but if you could just help me get through these last three months—"
"Let me stop you right there." I pulled out my cigarettes, needing something to do with my hands. The enhanced senses were still new enough that crowds and emotions could be overwhelming. Nicotine helped sometimes. "My face doesn't have 'good Samaritan' written on it, does it? What makes you think I give a shit about your problems?"
The truth was, I barely knew this girl. We'd had exactly two interactions. Getting involved with her drama was the last thing I needed when I was still trying to figure out what the hell was happening to my body.
"Just these three months. Until I go to college. I'll do anything—"
"Anything?" The word slipped out before I could stop it. I wasn't particularly interested in her sexually—she was cute enough, but not really my type—but I was curious about how far desperation would push someone.
"I mean it. I can clean, do laundry, cook, whatever you need. The cleaning services in Beacon Hills charge twelve dollars an hour, housekeepers charge eight, and janitors charge six. I won't ask you for money—just help me survive these three months. It's not a bad deal for you." She looked desperate.
"Just that?" I crossed my arms. "You think my time isn't worth more than money?"
The panic that flashed across her face told me I'd hit a nerve. Good. Maybe she'd realize this was a bad idea and find someone else to bother.
"No! That's not what I meant..."
I stepped closer, partly to intimidate her and partly because the wolf in me was curious about her reaction. This close, her pulse was hammering loud enough that I could hear it clearly. The scent of rain in her hair mixed with something floral that was probably cheap shampoo.
"Here's the thing," I said slowly, "I might want more than just someone to clean my apartment."
I wasn't serious—not really. But I wanted to see if she'd finally wise up and run.
"What do you mean?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
I should have backed off then. Should have made some joke and walked away. But there was something almost fascinating about watching someone dig their own grave this thoroughly. "If I agree to this little arrangement, you'd be coming to my place regularly. Just you and me. What if I wanted... other things? Physical things?"
"I turn eighteen on the fifteenth of next month."
I blinked. That definitely wasn't the response I'd expected.
"If that's what you want, I can... I can handle it."
"Jesus Christ." I dropped my cigarette, crushing it under my heel. This girl had some serious self-preservation issues. "You're really something, aren't you? Smart enough to be valedictorian, but stupid enough to offer yourself up like a fucking sacrifice."
I wasn't angry—more like disturbed. What kind of life had she lived that this seemed like a reasonable solution to her problems?
"You're the one who brought it up. I'm just meeting your terms."
"My terms?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Let me tell you something, princess. You're not exactly my type. You think pretty highly of yourself if you think I'd want to waste my time with some desperate little girl who throws herself at guys."
It was harsh, but probably kinder than leading her on. Better she understand exactly where she stood.
"Then what do you want? I told you I'd do anything. Just name your price."
"I want you to leave me the fuck alone." I flagged down a passing car. "Find someone else to save you."
As the car pulled away, I caught a glimpse of her in the side mirror, standing alone in the street as the first drops of rain started to fall.
Not my problem, I told myself. I had enough of my own shit to figure out.
Rainey's POV
The car pulled over, and Sunny got in without looking back. I watched the taillights disappear around the corner, leaving me standing alone on the empty street.
That's when the first drops of rain started to fall.
Within minutes, the sky had unleashed one of its signature spring downpours.
I should have run for shelter like everyone else, but I couldn't seem to make my feet move.
My phone buzzed in my pocket—the cheap phone I'd bought at a secondhand store for a hundred bucks so I could stay in touch with my boss at the café. When I saw "Sarah Sterling" on the caller ID, I felt ice in my veins despite the rain.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket without answering and looked in the direction Sunny's car had gone.
I clutched my book bag against my chest and started running through the rain, following the route I'd seen him take.
