That Makes Three

Chapter Eight

For the remained of the lesson not a word passed between me and Roman. After class I wished them a good evening and drove home, the windows down and the radio playing Beyoncé. Once I got home I cooked dinner, watched a little tv then settled down at the table to do my homework. Opening my text book, I read chapters one through six then opened my note pad. I never really paid attention to what I had been doodling before, but now I saw it I was suddenly filled with a sense of horror. It was a graphically detailed drawing of a girl surrounded by grass and part of what looked like a doll house. My blood ran cold as I saw that, though her torso had been torn open, the print on her t-shirt partially stained gave away who it was. Slutty Caren. She was wearing the exact shirt today...

When the doorbell rang I jumped. Was it the police? Shaking my head I laughed nervously. Why would the police come and tell me Caren was dead? I didn't do it. I had motive but I didn't actually do it. Opening the door a wave of relieve washed over me before anxiety quickly replaced it. Standing in a thick dark trench coat, all six foot four of him, was Roman. I smiled, walking away from the door and back to my place at the table, slyly covering my note pad with the textbook.

"What do you want?" I asked, avoiding eye contact. He breathed a laugh, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"Hi, nice to see you too."

"Roman-" he held his hand up, cutting my protest off.

"-I've come because I need your help... it's about Peter." My ears pricked up and I was suddenly worried.

"Is he ok?" Surely I would know if something wasn't ok - I would have felt it... right? Roman, sensing my panic continued quickly.

"He's fine. He's ok - he's at home." I nodded slowly, the worry that was building beginning to deflate. The crease between Roman's eyebrows deepened.

"Well if he's fine I don't know what you're doing here. I'm busy." Doing homework on a Friday night, I finished in my head. Turning I began to sort through pages, though I wasn't sure what I was looking for, when something occurred to me. Tonight was a full moon. What if Roman suspected something - it wasn't my place to tell him the rumours at school were true.

"Because you have something more pressing to do on a Friday night. Come with me."

"Where?" I asked cautiously, looking up to see his brunette eyebrows hooding his bright blue eyes. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip... his full pink lips. That had been on someone else's vagina. I scoffed, getting irritated again and slamming my books down in a pile. His smile faded.

"Fine. I'll go with you. But only because the chances of you leaving me alone tonight are...?"

"Slim to none." He admitted, sitting forward. I shook my head, combing my hair behind my ear in irritation.

"You persistent little prick... I'll be down in a minute." I muttered under my breath, not able to help myself and hitting the back of his head on my walk by.

"Don't bother putting a bra on." He shouted at me. When I reached the stairs I looked down to see that my nipples were two protruding, very clearly outlined, bumps under my thin pyjama top. I flipped him off though I knew he couldn't see me.

"Bite me, Godfrey."

"I would if you'd let me." He purred, a smile in his voice.

After putting some shoes and a bra on I grabbed my coat, keys and climbed into Romans car. We drove silently down the dark road for at least seven miles before he cleared his throat.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked, his eyes fixated on the road ahead, though there were no obstacles. I shrugged.

"No I'm not mad - why would I be mad at you?" I said, a little too aggressively.