Chapter 31

“If you have any sense at all, you’ll steer clear of Zack Brooks,” Creed drawls, his words effortlessly flowing past those perfect lips of his. He opens the fridge and bends low, his long form folding in half, muscles in his upper back and shoulders tensing as he rummages around for something to drink. “He’s no good.”

“Like you are?” I snap, feeling a hot warmth rush through me. It’s an unfamiliar burn, one that makes me shift in discomfort.

Creed stands back up, pushing white-blonde hair from his forehead, eyes heavy and half-lidded. He has a can of soda in one hand, a blank, bored look on his face.

“Did I ever say I was? Make no mistake, Charity: I don’t like you. I’ve been pretty clear about my feelings, and my agenda. So take what I’m saying into consideration: Zack Brooks is bad news.” He moves into the middle of the room, and cracks the top on the can, looking at me over the rim as he takes a drink.

“Fuck off, Creed,” Miranda snaps, but he ignores her,