Skylar stood in the living room with her bag in her hand and a soft pink cardigan that matched her jersey dress draped across her shoulders. She'd planned on hanging out at the apartment today, but Kylan had shut her down flat when she'd suggested going with him later that night to wherever the hell it was he disappeared to all the goddamn time. So, it was petty, and she was cutting her nose off to spite her face, but if he didn’t want her tonight, he didn’t get her during the day.

She looked up from her white Chuck Taylors when Kylan walked into the living room. He slowed abruptly when he saw Sky standing with her bag ready to leave. Those three or four seconds of surprised confusion in Kylan's silvery green eyes boosted her in ways that felt satisfying for as long as the complex look remained on Kylan's face. She felt lost again by the time his expression smoothed over into something that gave absolutely nothing away, and he looked at Skylar like she was no more important than any unknown, faceless person he might pass on the sidewalk.

"You're leaving already?" he asked, pausing a few feet inside the doorway and shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Uh huh." Sky nodded, breaking eye contact because for some bizarre reason, she couldn't breathe properly while looking at him. Maybe it was because her bravado was all smoke and mirrors, and if she stared into his eyes for too long, the illusion of confidence would crumple around her like dust. She'd wanted to stay. She'd wanted Kylan to want her to stay even more.

He'd put his hands on her in places he never had before. She'd touched him, and she was sure he was going to kiss her, maybe even fuck her right there on his bed where the furthest they'd ever gone was to fall asleep with an irritating space between them that Kylan refused to close. But he'd stopped at a few innocent, curious touches, and he'd left Skylar breathless.

Wordlessly, Kylan grabbed his jacket and face bandana and walked Skylar out. He shoved the bandana up over his mouth and nose, fixing it into place as they hit the graffitied communal hallway, only three of the ceiling strip lights actually working on this entire floor, the barely-there ghostly glow creating eerie shadows that Kylan passed through with ease. Sky walked behind him, slipping her arms through the sleeves in her cardigan to ward off the chill drifting up from the concrete floor and snaking around her bare legs.

Her bag was hoisted over Kylan's shoulder, and Sky was as relieved as she was crestfallen when they reached the bottom of the first-floor stairwell and Kylan pulled open the heavy metal door to a bulging slate sky and cascading drizzle.

It was always damp and rainy in the city, but Skylar didn't usually mind the dismal, gloomy weather. Today, though, the rain annoyed her. Every person who bumped into her in the bustling foot traffic pulled a scowl and muttered curse words from her. The closer they got to the subway station, the harder her heart thumped against her ribs and the deeper her mood plummeted.

"I'm fine on my own from here," she said to Kylan when the entrance to the 8th Street line came into view through the misty drizzle and the sea of pedestrians rushing to get to wherever they were going like they were the only people on earth who were busy and had someplace to be.

After taking her bag from him, Skylar pushed ahead of Kylan, breaking down the remaining ten or fifteen feet to the street-level concrete stairway leading down to the subway platforms in hurried, clutter-brained steps. Weak, artificial light and an unwelcome blast of unnatural muggy heat replaced the melancholy of the sodden, airless, gray city. Skylar felt Kylan’s distant presence consuming her as real and strong as her own heartbeat, the jarring thud of her Chucks on each step as she dashed to underground level, sprinted to stretch the distance between her and the illusive shadow watching over her.

The earth and the walls shook from the approaching train, and Skylar pushed harder, almost slipped on the second from last step, squashing the elderly couple crossing the platform in front of her. “I’m so sorry.” She reached out to them, her smile crooked with remorse. “Sorry,” she said again.

The train’s silver doors screeched open, and Skylar worked against the commuters as they exited, forging on in the misdirection. Her bag tangled with someone brushing against her, and she tugged on the duffel without looking, yanking it free and reaching the train just before the doors started to pull close.

*

After getting off the train on the outskirts of Hollow Hills, rather than sit for fifteen minutes on the bus, Skylar walked instead. She’d had enough of people, and that included nameless strangers. She wanted to be alone before she arrived at her house only to be bombarded by her family. It was Sunday, still morning, and that meant her brother, mother, and father would be home. There was a chance Daniel had already binged on early-morning cartoons and skipped over to a friend’s house to fish for worms in the muck, but he could also be in her bedroom while she’d been away, rifling through her drawers and hunting for her diary.

As sky trudged up the hill to her three-story Victorian house, the burnished sun speared through the massive oak trees scattered across rolling, emerald lawns. There was something so fake about the sunlight in Hollow Hills, artificial, almost, compared to the unforgiving rain and harshness of the city. Like this town was gilded, and nothing outside of its limits could touch it. Being in the city felt real. But living in Hollow Hills felt like being locked in a doll house with no key to escape, and Sky would rather weather a storm than exhaust herself with the constant, phony cheerfulness that did little more than scratch the suburban surface of her world.

A cold sweat speckled Sky’s brow, and she wiped the sheen away with the back of her hand, heaving the last few steps to cross her own lawn, past the tire swing that hung on thick, weathered rope from the Sugar Maple tree. Its leaves were on the turn now fall was here, the lush green stained with the fire of Autumn and liquid gold like the sun.

She climbed the white wooden stairs to the grand wraparound porch. The double, etched glass front doors were unlocked, and she turned the vintage, ornate knob, the hinges greeting her soundlessly as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Dark-stained hardwood floors stretched out in front of her, to the staircase positioned slightly to the left, and the living room on her right that led to the dining room and kitchen.

The house felt cavernous in its emptiness, no voices or movement downstairs, no floorboards creaking overhead. Skylar padded quietly over the antique floor rug, peeked deeper into the living room and then headed upstairs to her bedroom while the coast was perfectly clear.

She dumped her bag on her bed and slumped down onto her window seat, sinking into the piles of throw cushions and pillows. Leaning her head against the cool glass, she stared out at the wispy sky, wondered if it was still spitting rain in the city, and what Kylan was doing right now, whether he might, by some delusional fantasy, be thinking about her, too.

Skylar didn’t hear her bedroom door opening. It was the footfalls on the hardwood that alerted her to the figure crossing the threshold. Her dad carefully pressed her door shut at his back, the latch clicking softly into place. Sky lifted her head off the glass and swallowed, easing back on a frown when she felt it pinching at the skin around her eyes.

“Would you care to tell me where you’ve been sneaking out to after school? I know it isn’t to Kira’s house for pizza and trashy reality TV, because Sandra cleared up that misunderstanding when she ran into your mother at the grocery store yesterday afternoon.” Cassius Delacorte stood like the imposing lawman that he was. Tailored, designer gray suit, dress shoes so shiny he could see his own reflection in them. Blond hair coiffed to within an inch of its life. His shrewd, azure gaze saw all the way through Skylar, and she had to force herself not to fidget under it.

“Anytime now, Skylar,” he prompted her, strolling deeper into her bedroom. Her private space. What should have been her sanctuary within the four blush walls and the hand-selected French inspired furniture from one of her mother’s frequent online shopping trips to Europe.

Subconsciously, Skylar crossed her legs at the knee, bending them away from her father and toward the bay window. She knew better than to answer him, even though that’s what he’d come here to goad her into. Whatever came out of her mouth, however she responded, it wouldn’t be good enough. She’d be punished either way, and talking would only make it worse, cause him to become even more irritated with her.

“Your mother’s worried about you, so to make sure it doesn’t happen again, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ground you.” Cassius looked contrite, but the slight narrowing of his eyes and the glint as he’d spoken told another story altogether.

Skylar’s eyes flared to saucers. “No,” she cried. “You can’t ground me.” That was the worst possible thing he could do to her, and he knew it.

He moved farther into the room, the controlled clip of his Italian leather shoes hitting Skylar like pinpricks. Smoothing his hands over his thighs, he sat on the window seat beside Sky. He looked into her eyes, the haughty glint in his reducing until it was no longer there. “You’re a good girl, Sky.” Her eyes dropped to where his hand covered her bare knee. “I’ve moved my poker game around. A few buddies of mine are coming over tonight. It would be nice to see your face, for you to come say hello.”

“I have a lot of homework I need to do,” Sky lied. She did have homework, but nothing that would keep her tied up for longer than an hour.

“No problem.” Cassius' smile crept slowly onto his lips. “I won’t keep you long. They’ll be here at seven. Make sure you wash up first.” He patted her thigh with the palm of his hand, lingering a second too long, then stood up and left. He closed the door after him, but Sky jumped out of her seat and clicked the lock into place, her heart racing in the worst way. She pressed her palms to the door, applying all her weight behind it. Hung her head and clamped her eyes shut until her breathing came under control and her heart settled into a rhythm that felt like it wasn’t about to send her into cardiac arrest.