Devils' Day Party: A High School Bully Romance - C.M. Stunich Page 0,163

been jealous ever since.”

“Jesus,” Barron murmurs, brows drawing together as he pushes his sketchbook across the table toward me. His dual-colored eyes are intense as he stares me down. “Remember how I told you I wanted to show you something?”

I take the book and then turn it around, flipping it open to images that make my heart throb painfully. Me and Barron, kissing at the Devils' Day party. Me and Barron, in the cave of butterflies. Me and Barron, in the chapel. My throat gets tight as I close the book and pass it back to him.

“How did you know about this?” he asks, gesturing with the sketchbook. “I'm never without it for long, so how did you see it?”

My lips tilt up in a sad smile, but I don't have time to spend the evening explaining the time loop to them. We have to get ready and get to the party. Tonight, we'll do it without lies and guns and blood.

“So fucking creepy that you draw her,” Raz murmurs, but he doesn't deny being jealous.

Calix doesn't deny that he loves me. If he wouldn't deny it at gunpoint, then he certainly can't deny it now.

“Part of me wonders if this is too easy, if you're going to play the worst sort of Devils' Day trick on us and tell us it was all a lie later.” Calix studies me, his full mouth set in a slight frown. His fingers are curled tight and there's tension in his shoulders that I bet he thinks I don't see.

“And you'd deserve that, wouldn't you?” I retort, raising both brows. “So, what do you have to lose?”

Raz stands up and curls his hands around the back of his chair, staring me down like we're in a contest or something.

“Let me get this straight: you want all three of us to take you to the Devils' Day party? Like, as your dates?”

“Would it be so bad? You guys are always hanging out anyway.” I just stare Raz down. What he doesn't know is that I'm not only struggling with my feelings towards all three of them, but I'm drowning in a goddamn time loop. The magic of Devils' Day has really and truly gotten the last laugh from me, the ultimate party trick. So, can I choose one of the three guys I love? Break my heart into thirds, and throw two pieces away? I can't. “But let’s skip Crescent Prep’s party and do Devil Springs High instead.”

Either tonight they share, or I stay away from them altogether.

“I want you as my girl,” Raz says, standing up and lifting his chin defiantly. He's such a cocky prick, his dirty blonde hair mussed, red eyes narrowed, sharp mouth curved in a smirk. “Just mine. How about that, Karma?”

“How about you earn it?” I retort, and Raz laughs, shaking his head at me. There's a flash of something in his gaze that I don't quite catch, but then it's gone and I'm not sure if I imagined it or not.

“You know what? You had the balls to ask, so why the fuck not? We'll even triple-team if you want us to.” He shoves his chair in and throws his hands up. “We'll play your game tonight, Karma. Like you said, it is Devils' Day. It's a night for finding rules and breaking them.” He pulls his leather mask from his back pocket and slips it on.

“If you want three devils on your ass all night, then I'm game.” Barron puts his mask on next. Calix pulls his black mask from his pocket and looks at it for a minute, rubbing his thumb over the leather. He hands it over to me and I take it, purposely bumping my fingers against his.

“I have another red one in the car,” he says, standing up. “I'll wash the dishes. Get dressed.”

I struggle to keep my jaw off the floor as he sweeps the cups, plates, and teapot off the table.

Calix Knight … washing dishes.

They say magic happens on Devils' Day.

They must be right.

As I move down the hallway in a daze, that niggling feeling is back, that unwanted, awful feeling that tells me what I need in order to break the time loop.

Sacrifice.

Darkness is just beginning to kiss the horizon when we arrive at the party, climbing out of the Aston Martin to a rapt audience. Dozens of pairs of eyes reflect back the light, as if the Devil Springs students are predators instead of teenagers. Painted fingers reach