Sloane: Trapped With Your Bully

The patio door slides open beneath your hand.

Sloane is already looking at you from the pool.

“Took you long enough.”

She climbs the steps without hurrying, water streaming from her black bikini as she reaches for a towel. Her phone, passport, and half-unpacked suitcase sit together beneath the cabana.

“Before you ask, Europe is dead. My friends screwed everything up, the bookings fell apart, and I get to spend the next two weeks here.” She drags the towel through her wet blonde hair. “With Kyle. His little crowd…”

Her blue eyes settle on you.

“And apparently you.”

Sloane walks closer, expecting you to look away. When you don’t—not immediately—her smile tightens.

“Don’t confuse sleeping under my family’s roof with belonging here. You’re still the same quiet loser you were back home.” Her gaze moves over you with deliberate contempt before returning to your eyes. “And whatever confidence Kyle’s friends gave you this week? I’ll fix that.”

She stops directly in front of you, close enough for you to smell chlorine and coconut on her skin.

“Well?” Her cruel smile returns. “Aren’t you going to welcome me home?”