Chapter Sixteen

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Even a few hours later, fear-stricken thoughts of the consequences of my actions are still fresh in my mind.

            I’d hoped a hot shower with some expensive strawberry-scented body wash (borrowed stealthily from my mom’s bathroom cabinet) would be able to clear my head. However, as I stand under the stream of water, smothered in pink strawberry suds, I realize the feeling of sheer panic is still present.

            There’s no doubt Charlotte’s going to confront Connor about the revelation. And when she does, quite frankly... I’m dead.

            Especially considering I had been under strict instructions “not to tell anyone about this”.

            Should I start writing my will now?

            After a while, I step out into the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around myself quickly. As usual, my “post-shower” look is insanely attractive – red, pruned skin with a mess of damp frizzy waves sticking to the sides of my face – and for this reason I consciously avoid any eye contact with my reflection in the mirror over the sink.

            We can’t all step out of the shower looking like goddesses like they do in commercials.

            Deciding tonight is acceptable to make no effort with my appearance whatsoever, I head out into my room and toward the dresser on the opposite wall. No one’s going to see me, so why bother, right? It only takes a couple of seconds to throw on the first pair of undergarments I lay my hands on.

            I’ve pulled on a baggy white t-shirt and am in the process of searching through the depths of my drawer for a pair of sweatpants when an incredibly loud knocking starts up on my bedroom door.

            So loud, in fact, that I practically jump out of my skin. Who the hell is out there, banging on it so hard it sounds as if they’re trying to break it down? I doubt it’s my mom, and my dad is working a busy shift at the restaurant until late. Unless Brandon’s flown out from California just to irritate me, I don’t think the responsibility lies with any of my family.

            The incessant knocking stops for about half a second before the door swings open, bouncing off the wall with the unnecessary force it was pushed with.

            The sight that greets my eyes is probably the worst case scenario.

            It’s Connor.

            Confusion washes over me for a moment before it occurs to me that I’m distinctly lacking in the pants area. Immediately, I feel color rising to my cheeks at the idea of my unsexy girl boxers being in public view. Thankfully, my hand lands on a pair of sweatpants in my drawer and I pull them on quickly before Connor gets the chance to look at my butt.

            “What the hell are you doing here?” I question, as he marches into the room.

            As if he finds it perfectly acceptable to barge into someone’s bedroom without permission.

            However, he ignores me. Instead, he stalks across the room, approaching me so threateningly I am forced to step backward until my back meets the wall. And that’s when I get scared. The look on Connor’s face tells me he’s seriously pissed, not just irritated like usual.

            “I…”

            “You just don’t listen, do you?” he says, shooting me an angry look.

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