Chapter 21

Kate

Mocha Spa is located, interestingly enough, behind an old gas station. Don’t let that fool you though. It has massive redwood trees and private outdoor hot tubs that can be rented by the hour. The attached cafe is equally impressive, cozy and filled with the soft chatter of evenings spent over coffee with friends.

“I haven’t been here in forever,” I say with a smile, pausing near the counter and glancing up at the board on the wall. This place is good, roasts its own beans and everything. But that also means that the menu is pretty limited. Doesn’t take long to decide what I want. “Can I get a latte, please?”

I can feel the men crowding close behind me. Marlowe and Tanner are checking out the pastry window, and Brooks is staring at me. Again.

“Is that all?” the barista asks me, dressed in Crocs, an apron, and a handkerchief over her hair. She looks comfortable and half-asleep, but her ensemble goes well with the vibe.

“And whatever they’re having.” I look at Brooks expectantly, and it takes him an absurd amount of time to turn and look at the woman, as if he’s just realized she’s still standing there. Each eye on his hat is looking in a different direction, studying the building’s occupants.

“Espesso is fine.”

I laugh at the idea of a tiny espresso cup in his massive hand, but he only cocks an eyebrow at me. Pretty sure he’s pissed off about earlier. If he knew what the drone could mean, he’d be even angrier. I’m not going to tell him. Yet.

People are definitely looking at us, but in that polite Pacific Northwest way where they’re trying really hard not to. So what? These people might be viral, but they’re still people. The social taboo of outright filming us or swarming us holds long enough for Marlowe and Tanner to add their items to the order, and then we find ourselves the darkest booth in the furthest corner.

“They’ll forget we’re here after a while,” I say, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the wall at the far end of the bench seat. I don’t open them to see which guy gets in beside me.

Don’t need eyes to tell me anyway.

Sweat and sex and grass.

Tanner.

It’s Tanner, of course.

“Hey, it’s Eastwoods here, just in case you weren’t sure,” he purrs, and while it’s meant to be a joke, I can hear the echoes of his earlier anger. A tongue unfurls from the underside of my hat and smacks into my shoulder, tasting Tanner’s trepidation in the air.

We have about forty minutes until our hot tub reservation.

Forty minutes of pure hell.

Then … probably worse after. Yeah, I imagine all three of these men are going to take their clothes off. We might be here to gather spell ingredients, but they’ll get naked anyway. Try to fuck me. This entire place feels like a wayward rest stop in life, a quiet spot to drink coffee and have sex. A stayover. A retreat.

I open my eyes to find all three of them watching me.

I can’t not look at anyone or they’ll know, so I look at them all. Tanner, frowning at me. Brooks, also frowning at me. Marlowe … scowling slightly.

“You know,” he says bitchily, in that way of his. Elbow on the table, inked fingers drumming, hat perched low over his eyes. He looks out at the rest of the cafe like they’re the strangers here, and this is meant to be our place and our place alone. “Miriam always wanted to come here and fuck, and Dennis always wanted to tag along.” He snorts and turns to stare at me again. I don’t mind him mentioning Miriam. The way he does it, I can see he’s just trying to tell me everything there is to know about him.

My stomach clenches strangely as I pick up a sugar packet and toy around with it, wishing my coffee were here already so that I had something proper to fidget with. My hat casts a circular shadow on the table, catching the strange light from the stained-glass shade overhead. It hangs low from a chain, the red and white design offering ambiance.

“Guess I know why now, huh?” Marlowe adds, and then he … laughs. His scowl disappears. Oh. He’s so achingly beautiful like that, open and honest and real. I sit up a little straighter, my breath catching.

“Nathan would never bring me here,” I admit, hating how lonely and sad my voice sounds. I knew I shouldn’t be with someone to cure the loneliness. I should only be with someone for the joy. That’s what I should be sharing, joy. Not decimating loneliness. Wrong way to look at it. Nathan was always a mistake, and I wonder if Marlowe feels the same about Miriam.

“Why?” Marlowe is the one who’s asking, but it’s Brooks who bumps my leg with his, pushing it against the wall and trapping it there. I pretend not to notice, my gaze catching on several empty inches of wooden bench between me and Tanner.

He’s spilling out of his seat and into the walkway, and yet he won’t scoot over?

I sit back and tuck my hair behind both ears, looking at the table instead of the men.

“Pretty sure his words were well, I have a bathroom at home if I want to take a bath, Kate. ”

Marlowe gags. Not even sure he does it by accident.

“You dated this idiot? What sort of a stupid man tells someone like you no when it’s clear that you’re asking to be fucked?” Marlowe is outraged on my behalf, which is sweet, but he’s got the wrong idea.

“I didn’t ask to come here so we could—” I stop talking.

Oh my God.

That … that is why I asked to come here.

I asked my boyfriend to take me to the hot tub place, so we could have sex in a giant wooden barrel filled with scented, steamy water, under the stars and the boughs of ancient redwood trees and he made me feel like an idiot.

I should’ve been the one who broke up with him, and not the other way around.

“I never thought to come here at all,” Tanner muses, looking around. “It feels like I missed out on a lot of places because I was too busy—” He doesn’t finish that sentence which is probably a good thing. I don’t want to hear it, especially not after what happened in Mrs. Madsen’s front yard.

“This place didn’t exist in my time. If it did, I still wouldn’t have brought anyone here.” Brooks has his arms crossed, attention focused on the barista like maybe the shuffle-footed and yawning woman isn’t serving his drinks fast enough for his liking. I don’t know how to tell him that it’s just not that sort of place, Mr. Likes Everything Done Exactly His Way.

“Why not?” Marlowe is asking, not me, but I’m curious to hear the answer to this.

Brooks exhales slowly, reaching up to fix his hat. He likes the brim up whereas Marlowe wears it low, and Tanner doesn’t seem to give a shit either way.

“You’d have to like a woman to want to go to a place like this with her. Otherwise, you’d just—” Brooks also stops talking. Good. Me, Tanner, him. We can’t even say what we want to say.

Honesty? Uh-uh.

“I did ask to come here because I wanted Nathan to fuck me. But you know what? He either doesn’t have a clue how to properly fuck someone, or he just didn’t want to fuck me .” There. I was honest. They can be honest, too. “Brooks and Tanner never bothered to bring women here because maybe they didn’t like any of them enough to bother. If you’d been in their shoes, you’d have done the same.”

I look over at Marlowe and force a small smile.

“You wanted to bring Miriam here because you did like her.”

“Did, being the operative word,” he responds easily, and I shiver as his dark eyes narrow and his tongue edges his lip. Fuck. “Mistake. You wanted Nathan to bring you here because you liked him, too.”

“Did, being the operative word,” I whisper, swallowing and staring down at the sugar packet. Somehow, I’ve opened it up and spilled white crystals all over my fingertips. Tanner reaches out and takes my wrist, nice and gentle. Only when I try to pull away does that grip tighten.

“If you’re a good girl for me Kate, I’ll be so fucking nice to you that your head will spin.” He yanks me closer, pulling my fingers to his lips and sucking the sugar off of them. Like the blood earlier. Sugar and blood. “Stop fighting me,” he mumbles between hot, wet sucks and lingering licks down the inside of my wrist. There’s not even any sugar there.

My whole body ignites in flame.

“Now, we’re all here together for a spell,” I add, putting the finishing touch on that conversation. That’s why we came here. A spell. They can’t even pretend otherwise. Tonight isn’t about our relationship, it’s about magic.

“Kate, you’re a woman that I’d bring here on a random Tuesday for no other reason than I wanted to drink an … whatever that is.” Tanner rubs his thumb across the center of my palm, nodding his chin at the tiny white cup that was just placed in front of Brooks.

The barista passes our coffees out, not bothering to say a single word as she does. Her gaze flicks over my face and I realize that she’s not nearly as sleepy and unaffected by our presence as she pretended to be. She knows who we are.

Half the people in this cafe know who we are.

I gently tug my hand from Tanner’s fingers, and he finally lets me go. My palm tingles as I fold my hands in my lap, trying to ignore the lingering wetness from his tongue.

Lo ordered a hot cocoa which is weirdly cute and looks stupidly adorable sitting in front of his inked mountain of a body. Tanner ordered a beer—they serve alcohol here, too—and I’ve got my latte. Marlowe and Tanner have small pastry mountains in front of them.

Brooks only has that tiny, little white cup.

He peers at it, brows furrowed. The damn thing looks like a doll cup. I’m not even sure that Brooks can pick it up without breaking it. I choke on a laugh, trying to stifle it in my drink. For a minute there, I forget that things are supposed to be awkward between me and the guys.

“You didn’t even know what an espresso was when you ordered it, did you?” The big white mug in my hand is shaking as I struggle to hold onto my amusement. The foam on top was a cute little heart when the barista set it on the table, but it’s all churned up now.

Brooks clenches his teeth and works his jaw, staring out at the cafe before looking back at me.

“Trade me. Give me the big coffee. You can have the little one. It suits you better.” The big eye on his hat flutters, red iris bright in the dimness. I spot antlers on the wall above him.

“Hell no. Taste that tiny cup and tell me that it isn’t going to put hair on your chest. I don’t want any hair on my chest, and I really like milk.”

All three guys stop what they’re doing to look at me. Tanner is leaned back and chewing on a half-decimated bear claw (fitting pastry choice) while Marlowe slides his finger through some sort of cream cheese topping on a chocolate muffin. While I’m watching, he sucks it off.

“We can all tell that you love milk.” Brooks puts his elbows on the table, staring down at the tiny cup. He lifts his eyes up to mine, but I’m not even mad. I … laugh. I laugh at him, and then I’m remembering the words he said to me this morning.

“ I like you, Kate. I like you very much.”

I bury my blush in my latte the same way I did my laugh, sipping it as I wait for Brooks to try his drink.

“Fuck.” He picks it up and … downs it like a shot. Marlowe sighs and turns away, shaking his head in disgust.

“You ancient fucking dinosaur,” he murmurs as Tanner laughs and chugs his beer.

“Guess the fearless leader over there doesn’t know everything.” Oh, Tanner is feisty tonight. Thankfully my brain is in the mood for recurring thoughts. I get to relive this gem.

“ You think I haven’t told every goddamn girl I put my dick in I love you ?”

Eek. Nice guy, my ass.

I keep my attention on Brooks, but he doesn’t flinch. He just sets the little cup down without breaking it. There’s no reaction on his face, no indication that he just swallowed super hot, super concentrated coffee.

“Move,” he tells Marlowe, breathing deep. “I’m ordering something else.”

The pair of them slide out of the booth, but when I try to offer my wallet, Brooks waves it off. Must have some leaf-cash in his jeans pockets. The ones he picked from the thrift store were well-worn and broken in for whoever owned them before, but Brooks has made that denim his bitch. The washed-out blue fabric cups his taut ass and emphasizes the long lines of his legs.

“See something you like?” Tanner teases, and I turn to find him watching me.

There’s no doubt in my mind that we … made love in the grass today. It started off as an anger fuck, and it quickly evolved into something else entirely.

“He’s a jerk, but he’s handsome,” I admit, shrugging one shoulder and wishing I’d gotten myself a pastry. Tanner notices me eyeing the untouched bear claw on his plate, pushing it toward me without a word.

“I’ll always provide for you, whether it’s a wild not-rabbit steak or some sugar-filled dough at a coffee shop. You won’t ever go hungry, kitten.” Tanner puts a hand on the back of my head and leans in, eyes sharp. “See? Not with words, with actions. ”

He presses a kiss to my forehead that makes Marlowe scoff.

“Two ancient fucking dinosaurs,” he says, and that makes me laugh so hard that I almost drop my mug. I set it down and press a hand over my mouth, staring back at Marlowe as Marlowe stares back at me.

For the first time since he assaulted me in the woods, I think … we’re having a normal moment. A fun moment. This is like a preview, it seems. A taste of what everyday life with these men could be. They’re not as awful and barbaric as they first seemed.

“ Numa Numa, ” I say to him, and his mouth twitches. “Three ancient fucking dinosaurs.”

“You put that song on, you get thrown into the wall and fucked properly. Just keep that in mind.” Marlowe tears his second chocolate muffin in half and then chucks it onto the plate in front of me. Feels like a sly rebuttal of Tanner’s I will provide for you, like Marlowe is splitting his food equally. I chuckle at that, too, and he sighs, giving me the second half of the muffin as well.

“Three ancient dinosaurs,” I repeat, because did he just hear what he said? “Would you have talked to a girl like that back in your time?”

“Hell no. I have Witchwoods in my blood. I’m not even human anymore.” Marlowe licks the chocolate from his fingers as I watch, his dark eyes on mine.

“I take it you were like this before the woods?” I direct my question to Tanner, but he only shakes his head, pushing his empty beer bottle aside.

He almost smiles, but then his eyes catch mine and he stops himself.

“No. Definitely not. I hated anything that reminded me of my father—birds, hunting, the outdoors. And I was nice to women, but I certainly wouldn’t have ever cared to feed one beyond a burger and fries during a night out, or some pancakes for breakfast.” He kicks back in the booth, jostling Marlowe’s legs and causing the other man to scowl back at him. “But for you, I would carve up my own body if needed.”

I choke on my next sip of coffee, snatching some napkins from the wooden holder at the end of the table and dabbing at my lips.

“Are you casually offering me cannibalism ?” I breathe out as Brooks returns, standing at the end of the table and staring at Marlowe. Lo pretends not to notice, seated across from me and sweeping his finger through the melting whipped cream on the top of his hot cocoa.

“Not casually.” His words are firm, direct, but also a little icy. What have I done to this sweet man? Tanner offers Brooks a nod of thanks when he puts a fresh bottle of beer down for him.

Rather than argue with Marlowe about wanting his space back, Brooks sits down beside him, and it’s so absurdly cozy and peaceful in there that I forget for a brief minute that we’re wearing witch hats and waiting for a hot tub so that we can scoop up water for a spell.

“We could just buy a barrel and chuck it in the backyard. I’ll make the water hot and steamy when we need it.” Marlowe lifts his hot cocoa to his lips and closes his eyes while he drinks, sighing and letting his shoulders droop. “So good.”

He punctuates those last two words by opening his eyes. So good. So fucking good.

My entire body is attuned to the movements of these men in a way I’ve never been attuned to anything in my entire life. It could be the magic binding us together, those dark vows in the woods. And I think it is, in part, but it’s something else. Attraction. Natural attraction. Definitely that. But also a budding sense of camaraderie and … affection?

I feel affectionate toward the three of them, sitting there in that booth with its low-hanging light and the gentle buzz of conversation around us. I want to touch them, hold them, have them hold me. I want to talk about everything, learn about their pasts, build new memories together.

I pick up my latte and take another drink.

“Did you order another espresso?” I ask casually, as if this is a normal night out and not one where I discover all sorts of new things about myself. You don’t need to hold back, Kate. These idiots won’t even let you go to the bathroom by yourself. They’re not going anywhere.

But, as Marlowe said, I hate to be left.

What if—after we’re done with all this Witchwoods crap—they decide they want to get out and explore this brand-new world that they’ve been thrust into? Fuck other people? Date other people? I certainly wouldn’t blame them.

“I asked for coffee, and she told me they only serve espresso. I told her to give me what you were having.” Brooks leans back, his tense muscles relaxing a bit. This could be the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him, and the move surprises me. With a slight quirk of his lips, he lifts both hands and signs something out that makes Tanner laugh and causes Marlowe to spit out some of his hot chocolate.

“Where did you learn sign language?” I ask, directing the question to all three men. I look amongst them, but Tanner and Marlowe are both staring at Brooks.

“I had a little sister who was deaf,” Brooks explains, pausing when the barista shows up and narrowing his eyes at her until she leaves as quickly as possible. He pulls his drink close, and I see that we now have a whole new plate stuffed with pastries. Tanner and Marlowe dig right in. “Not the sister that you saw in the Rhododendron parade, but the youngest.”

I haven’t brought this up to Brooks because I had a very bad feeling about it: I know from the stories available about him online that, in 1955, when twenty-four-year-old Brooks went missing, his twelve-year-old sister went missing, too.

Here he is.

Here she’s … not.

“Before you ask, yes, she was eaten by the Hag.” Brooks is staring into his coffee and not my face. I make myself look away, too. This is obviously painful for him. “She went missing. I tracked her to the tree. I put my hand in. Was already too late though. I shouldn’t have screamed her name; that was my fault.” He takes a drink.

I have no idea how to respond to that, and the table falls quiet. I could tell him that I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t even come close to covering it. It’d be better if our coven were able to kill the Hag Wytch, free his sister. I’m sure he’s considered it.

“You must’ve been so lonely in there,” I tell him instead, and that gets him to lift his head and look at me. I know that Brooks was with his mentor for a while, but then the Hag got her, too. Seems like she gets everyone who enters the Witchwoods eventually.

“I …” Brooks has no clue what to say. He closes his eyes, takes a breath. I realize then that this is why he’s in charge. He might be bossy, but he knows what he’s doing. He knows how to control himself, keep calm, how to survive situations that would kill anybody else. “Yes, I was.” He opens his eyes and takes another drink of his coffee.

I sip mine. Marlowe downs his hot cocoa. Tanner nurses his beer and surveys the room like he’s looking for threats.

“Couple of months out here, and you’ll want to go back to the Witchwoods,” I tease. “Especially after you discover social media.”

Marlowe actually laughs at that which I find cute, and Tanner shrugs.

“Don’t care where we live. I’m happy where you are, kitten.” He pauses and turns to look at me, raising his fancy brow. “Though I do like your dog. Mind if I start training him?”

“He’s trained,” I blurt automatically, but I guess sit, stay, and get the frisbee aren’t a full range of commands. “Fine. Whatever. He likes you more anyway.”

“I do care where we live,” Brooks says, setting his coffee down. “We’re going to close that fucking gate, and lock the Hag Wytch away in there. Probably how she got there in the first place. Maybe it’s a prison for an angry god or something?”

Huh. It’s as good a guess as anything.

While Brooks is concerned with the Hag, I try not to think of pressing urban responsibilities.

Like the cops we left passed out on the lawn. Like Mrs. Madsen, slumped into an armchair near her fireplace. Like the drone. Like going viral.

I resist the urge to pull my phone out and do a search. None of the guys has a phone, probably a problem that needs to be rectified immediately. If we get separated for any reason, we can’t exactly hum to each other across town.

“After we … visit the cemetery tomorrow …” I say the words slowly, trying to be polite to Brooks and Tanner. We’re visiting the graves of both their families. One, to pay our respects and collect some dirt. The other, to dig up a corpse. Can’t wait for that one. I’m a witch and a grave robber. “Let’s pop into a store and get you guys phones.”

“I don’t want one,” Brooks tells me, because he really, truly is an ancient fucking dinosaur.

“I don’t care. You make decisions on Witchwoods stuff, and I’ll handle the modern world. A smart leader knows when to take sage advice.” I pick up half the muffin in one hand, the bear claw in the other. I take a bite of each, scoring them in my head. “Muffin is better, nice and moist. I imagine the bear claw was better earlier in the day. It tastes like something from the day-old basket.”

“Didn’t peg you as a baked goods critic,” Tanner teases, trying to take the bear claw from the plate. I slap his hand away and he snorts. “Fine, fine, it’s all yours—even if it’s gross.”

“Did I say it was gross?” I tease, licking chocolate crumbs from my fingers. Marlowe’s turn to watch me taunt him.

“No, all you said was that you prefer my moist cake in your mouth.” He slumps back in the seat, putting his arm on the wooden back and carefully avoiding touching Brooks in any way. You’d never know they slept in the same bed together.

“We’re casting that bed spell for sure, right?” I clarify and Brooks nods.

“The ingredients we need for that come from here as well. That’s the only reason we can pull it off on top of everything else.” He pauses, and his mouth twitches. “Besides that, I’m uncomfortable in such a small bed, and I’m tired of rotating. That isn’t going to work in the long run, and we won’t drum up near enough magical reserve by sleeping separately.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, does sleeping three feet apart make all that much difference? Same-room isn’t okay, it has to be same-bed now?” I’m joking though. I like having all three of them in bed. Only issue has been that it seems to cut down on sex.

If I have all three of them in bed, do I need to take all three of them to bed? It’s something I’d like to try, if they were into it.

“Same bed is much better,” Brooks says, like he’s the ultimate authority on all of this. All I can do is follow his lead. I don’t know anything about magic. Thus far, everything he’s said has been true. We got out of the woods. We’re clearly bound together. We can do magic. The house is foreboden (is that a word?) and the tree is protected by a spell of fear. “Besides, you like it.”

“Stop pretending you don’t,” Marlowe repeats, sounding exasperated. He leans across the table and reaches out, taking my wrist. “It’s embarrassing—for you . How many times do I need to say that?”

“I’m not embarrassed.” I settle in my seat and raise my chin. “I’ve changed my mind. I thought that was obvious in the way I was acting? I like fucking you guys.”

Brooks’ words. “I like you. I like you very much.”

Marlowe. “I don’t think I would, if it was you.”

Tanner … a long, sun-soaked orgasm under the rhododendrons.

“I … like you guys. I do. I’m excited to get to know you, and … I’m ultimately happy that we met. I think, if I had to go back in time and redo everything, I’d make the same choices. I’d put my hand in the tree. I’d talk for Marlowe in the woods.”

I stop right there, spotting something across the room that I did not expect to see.

“You can’t just say something like that and leave off,” Marlowe protests, but Brooks and Tanner have already turned to see what it is that I’m looking at.

Nathan.

It’s my ex-boyfriend (my only ex-boyfriend, only lover), standing near the counter with his arm around a girl from our high school. I vaguely remember her hanging out with us a few times. Either she goes to the same college as him or else she’s borrowed his crimson Harvard hoodie.

“Hey, kitten.” I look at Tanner, easily taking my eyes away from Nathan and his new girlfriend. “You okay?”

He remembers who Nathan is. Marlowe makes it really obvious that he’s looking by standing up and pushing the pointed cone of Brooks’ hat out of his way to stare.

“Oh, it’s him. I could drown him in dry air. Looks like he has it coming.” Kelp sprouts from the side of Marlowe’s hat, and a glittery fish with wings zips through it before disappearing. The kelp wilts, replaced by succulents.

“Why drown him when I can just suffocate him?” Tanner folds his hands together behind his head. His shadow is stalking Nathan, darting from one table to another, creeping in the shadows. I slap Tanner’s thigh, but all he gives me is a dry laugh.

“Spontaneous combustion is best.” Brooks sounds like he’s telling a secret, smiling as he leans in toward me. All six red eyes on his hat crinkle at the edges in amusement. “He’s the only other man on this planet who’s fucked you, right? If we get rid of him then it’s just us. I like those odds.”

“Would I then get to rid the world of every woman you’ve ever slept with? Tanner ? How about Miriam? Can I spontaneously combust her, too?” I would never do any of those things, but it’s an important hypothetical.

I forget Nathan entirely until he steps up to the table, clearing his throat. I blink up at him in confusion for a few seconds before I register why he’s here. What are the freak chances of coming here—a place I’ve never been—on the exact same night that he’d show up—to a place he swore he’d never go?

I don’t believe in fate, just overlapping choices.

We’re both much happier without the other person, and we’re just out on the town with better lovers. Simple as that.

“Hey, Nathan,” I say with a smile. He was my friend before he was my boyfriend, and I’m sure we’ll never be friends again—because he treated me like utter shit—but I can play nice.

“Get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass,” Marlowe adds, pushing the empty plates to the end of the table. “Take those to the bussing station on your way past.”

“You’re aware that you’re all over the internet?” Nathan tells me, looking wide-eyed around the men in their witch hats. I see dark shadows growing up the wall behind the booth, silhouettes with antlers and wings and long tongues. My own shadow sports its familiar horns. I look at Nathan again. “Nobody can get through to your phone, near your house, or in touch with you at all. We’re starting to get scared.”

“We?” I ask, because I’m confused. Who is we ? I look over at the girl next to him, but she’s stepped back, arms crossed, tapping her foot. She’s furious with him, so he probably doesn’t mean her.

“Everyone. All of your friends. The community, at large, actually.” Nathan holds up his phone for a second, and I swear I see something like Witchwoods Boys LIVE S — and that’s it. What could that next word be? Sex tape? No, I can’t think like that or I’ll never leave the house again.

“Everyone? There are few people in my whole life who matter, and they’re certainly not afraid for me.” Okay, so that might be a lie. Georgia is afraid for me, I’m sure, but she’s at least understanding of the situation. “Do you need confirmation that I’m here of my own free will?” I hold up my arms and gesture at my coven. “I’m here by choice. Nobody’s forcing me.”

“We got lucky,” Tanner tells him, dead serious. “She accepted us pretty readily; we didn’t need to force her.”

The implication annoys me.

“Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” I challenge Tanner to keep me there, but he doesn’t. He moves.

And then he follows me down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Stay outside,” I tell him, annoyed. The whole purpose of this was to show Nathan—who’s obviously secretly filming us—that we’re normal and boring and not at all worth paying attention to. If we’re boring in enough of these videos, people will find something else for the Internet to fixate on. Doesn’t matter what it is, just always has to be something. “While I’m in here, go in the other bathroom. Make it seem less weird than it is, okay?”

“It’s not at all weird, Kate,” he tells me, but when I turn to head into the bathroom, Tanner tightens his fingers, tugging me back so that he can put his chin on my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me falling in love with you. Kitten, out of everyone I’ve ever met, you’re my favorite. It’s as easy as that.”

He draws away from me, slapping my ass before he ducks the brim of his hat and dips into the men’s bathroom.

I’m alone in the hallway.

I step into the women’s restroom, turn and lock the door.

Eye the open window.

I’m just curious … if I run off, what exactly are they going to do? It’s so tempting. I want them to chase me.

I’ve forgotten about Nathan again, about having gone viral. I don’t care about any of that stuff when I’m hanging out with these guys. Everything else becomes background noise. That’s a good sign, right?

“ You’re my favorite. It’s as easy as that.”

My whole body flushes with heat, and I know I’ll be looking forward to the next few months, hoping he’ll tell me that he loves me. Or maybe we can get to a point where I can tell him? I toy with my braid, close my eyes, take a deep breath to refocus.

I do what I came in here to do, wash my hands, stare at myself in the mirror.

A few months ago, if I’d seen Nathan with another girl—especially one from our high school—at this place, a place he refused to ever take me, I’d have been devastated. Depressed. Angry. Now? I’m happy that he’s happy, but I don’t feel the need to spend any significant amount of time with him.

I open the window and hop out. We’re on the first story, so it’s not that high. I’m on one of the outdoor paths outside, the ones that snake through the trees. There are wood walls here and there, visible past the trunks. Each circular structure has a gate on the outside, and a hot tub in the center. There must be an emergency exit out here somewhere?

I spend far too many minutes looking for the exit, feeling that sensation of the men coming nearer or farer away from me. Cold and empty. Heating up. When they’re too close, I stop feeling them at all, like everything is back to normal.

That’s when I know I’m in trouble.