Athena

1. Caught in 4k

It's 3 am on a school night. I should be tucked in bed like a good girl. But I'm not asleep at all. Sweat drips down my neck from exertion, pooling between my breasts and soaking my back. My cotton tee feels sticky and gross on my skin. Breathless gasps fall from my lips as every muscle in my body is pushed to the limit. It's hard to keep quiet at a time like this—

Before I continue, please pull your mind from the gutter.

No, sadly, I'm not getting my brains fucked out.

I'm hanging off the side of Rob's two-story house with my backpack on, trying not to slip and fall. Both of my hands and feet are clinging to a curtain of jasmine vines for dear life. The sweet floral scent floods my nostrils as the delicate white flowers are crushed by my clumsy attempt to Spiderman my way up the trellis.

You must be wondering: Why am I going through all this trouble when there's a perfectly functional door on the first floor?

Let's rewind.

It all started with Jake's text.

J: Xmas came early

That was two hours ago, and xmas is code for new shipments.

Me: did santa leave motorbreath under the tree?
J: Hell yeah he did

The moment I saw his reply, I hauled ass to his apartment as though the apocalypse had come and zombies were chasing after me, hungry for a midnight snack consisting of seventeen-year-old female brain matter.

Why, you wonder again, was I in such a hurry to see Jake?

Long story short, he just restocked some more of his best shit, and I was desperate to get my grubby hands on a quap before it sold out. After securing the goods, I tossed everything in my backpack and skateboarded back to Ron's, only to discover that I was SOL.

Shit outta luck.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm not a good girl. I'm a certified dumbass. On my way to Jake's place, I grabbed my backpack, wallet, and cell phone, but I forgot the fucking keys, and the Reckers' front door is the kind that self-locks once you exit.

After inspecting every single window on the first floor, I've discovered that they won't budge, which is why I decided to slip in through one of the second-story windows before anyone realized that I was out past curfew. It's November in Arizona. Now that the weather has cooled down, Ron leaves the windows open at night to air out the upstairs rooms.

Still dangling precariously in midair, I glare at the distance separating me and the fucking window.

I'm determined to get my ass back in bed like a good girl even if it kills me. I've already pissed off my aunt one too many times over the past few months. Detentions for ditching class. Suspensions for fights in the cafeteria. Not for starting them, mind you. Ending them.

I can't get caught sneaking out tonight. Pretty sure that Aunt Katrina would lose her ever-loving mind if she found out what I was doing in Jake's apartment, Ron wouldn't think twice about kicking me out of his house, and Ron's spawn—

Ugh.

Don't even get me started on the spawn and his crusade to make my life as miserable as possible. Just because he can. Instantly, a scowl darkens my face at the mere thought of his annoyingly perfect face.

It's a tragedy, really. All that grumpy boy hotness is wasted on his shit personality. The spawn has been the dickiest of dicks ever since Ron proposed to Aunt Katrina, and we moved in with them about two months ago. From day one, the spawn has made it abundantly clear that my aunt and I aren't welcome on his turf.

Honestly, if Ron's spawn wasn't such a prick, I'd call right now and beg him to help a bitch out. Unlike me, he's tucked in bed at the moment. I bet he could very easily scoot his fine ass out of bed, shuffle down the stairs, and unlock the front door in less than three minutes flat. But I also suspect that he'd set his balls on fire before doing something out of the kindness of his heart, especially for my sake.

My jaw sets with resignation. I'm on my own. Climbing higher and higher up the trellis, I eventually reach the rain gutters and latch on with both hands. Releasing a strained grunt, I ignore the burning sensation in my weak spaghetti arms as I hoist myself over the edge. My feet tread nothing but air for a few terrifying moments while I summon the strength to crawl, winded and breathless, onto the roof like a survivor at sea who almost didn't make it to shore.

My knees, elbows, and palms are pretty banged up at this point. The scratches and bruises sting a bit. I fucking did it, though. I made it to the top of Ron's house.

I feel like Jack during his iconic scene from Titanic.

I'm the king of the world!

After straightening up to full height, however, I make the mistake of glancing down. My brown eyes widen. The drop looks to be about fifteen feet off the ground. I gulp nervously and study my surroundings. The entire roof is slanted at weird angles. It won't be easy to keep my balance while moving around. I ignore the sudden urge to pee and pray that I don't trip and die. I have no interest in cracking my skull on Ron's driveway tonight.

With the mindset of an acrobat tip-toeing across a tightrope, I make my way, step by cautious step, toward the nearest window. If I can get in, I'll be able to hop back in bed before anyone realizes that I was gone. Once I inch closer to the window, I exhale a sigh of relief. There's a two-inch crack at the bottom of the frame.

Thanks, Ron.

I slide my hands into the opening and give the window an upward shove. It glides wide open. I grin. As quietly as possible, I drop my backpack onto the bathroom tiles and climb in after it. Although, right as I'm about to celebrate, my shit-eating grin falls away. A tall shadowy silhouette stands in the doorway.

I hear a low, husky growl, "Hello, Athena."

How long has he been there?

The death glare he shoots my way makes me freeze like a deer in the headlights. He's holding his phone in hand, and the goddamn camera is aimed right at me.

Shit.

Caught in 4k.

By the spawn himself.