Page 16 of Sticks and Stones (Shadow Valley U)

Nothing.

Instead, I swing my legs over and immediately knock something over.

Cold water soaks my feet.

I swear under my breath, jerking at the sensation, and hit something else. More water.

“What the fuck?”

I switch on my phone’s flashlight and shine it at the floor.

She’s surrounded my bed in half-filled plastic cups, like a petty, prepubescent child with a stick up her ass. I smother my laugh at that.Sticks with a stick up her ass. I gather as many cups in my hands as I can, moving them to create a barrier between our sides of the room.

There’s nothing I can do about the water that’s already spilled, soaking into the rug. But Icanrepay her. Or at least make it difficult for her to get out of her pile of blankets. Once the army of cups has her surrounded, my side of the room is free and clear to walk around.

I sop up the water with the towel she used on her head last night, and her breathing doesn’t even change.

After I’m showered and dressed, I pull her sex toy from where I kept it under my pillow. Was that what she was scrounging for last night?

Well, I’ll return it to her.Happily.

I head downstairs. The other guys must not be early risers, and that’s fine by me. My step-monster is the sort to sleep in too. Over the summer, mornings became the only time I could hang out in the house and still have a sort of refuge from her.

I write a note for Wren, taping it to the toy, and drop it on the kitchen table. It stares at me as I make my coffee and cereal. I wolf both down, now a hundred percent sure I need to get out of the house before this explodes in my face. Although, I wouldloveto see her reaction…

No, fuck it.

I switch the toy on. It buzzes to life with surprising vigor, and my jaw goes slack for a moment. She putsthis thinginside her? Fucking hell, no guy is ever going to please her if she’s used to a cock that vibrates. It’s got a little extra arm on it that I assume is for her clit.

Stop fucking thinking about her.

My shoes are on, and my bag is by the door. Everything is organized. Prim and proper.

The toy goes back on the table, and the buzzing is a thousand times louder against the wood. The thing jumps and jiggles. It’s going to wake someone up, for sure. Or die trying.

I head out for my run and hope like hell someone will fill me in on the reactions later.

CHAPTER7

WREN

What an amateur.

Stone obviously has no idea what it’s like to have to sleep with one eye open at all times. I hear him this morning from my surprisingly comfy pallet on the floor. I’ve slept in worse places than the floor of a secure house on a college street, that’s for sure. And I’m sure, much to Stone’s oblivious state, I know how to fake sleep and keep my eyes shut.

The door latches, and I spring up and laugh at all the cups that surround me. To be honest, I’m a little disappointed. After placing the cups around his bed last night, I assumed he’d dump them on my head like the asshole that he is, but instead, he placed them around me. Surely he knew that I was going to wake up skeptical.

I pull my hair up into a messy bun and push the covers off my legs, letting the cool air wash over my heated skin. I slowly stand and tiptoe over the cups and head to the bathroom to get ready for class.

I take more classes than most sophomores in college, but that just comes with my degree. I knew choosing a BS in Chemistry was going to be vigorous and demanding, especially because I had to keep up a 3.5 GPA for my academic scholarship, but proving to the world that a Davis can be more than a drug dealer is pretty much at the top of my bucket list.

Although, when some people found out that I was becoming a chemist, they made the joke that I was only doing it so I could help my father make drugs—as if myrealgoal in life is to be cooped up in a disgusting trailer full of cockroaches, playing around with methylamine and hydroiodic acid.

After rinsing my face and throwing on some makeup—which was all hurled into the stupid plastic tote that Stone threw my shit into—I open the bathroom door and hear a noise coming from downstairs.

What the hell is that?

Two doors open down the hall, and sleepy hockey players emerge with their lack of shirts and flickering abs from stretching the sleep from their bodies.