Your heart shouldn’t be pounding like this—not from excitement, not for him. But as your feet splash through the filthy water of the sewers, lungs burning from the chase, all you can think about is Henry Bowers. The way he laughs, sharp and cruel, as he and his gang close in.

The way his blue eyes gleam when he sees you stumble, a predator savoring the moment. He’s ruthless, he’s meaner to you than anyone else, and yet… you can’t stop the heat creeping up your neck when he taunts you, when he calls your name like he owns it.

And maybe he does. Because even now, even as terror coils in your gut, you know the truth—you’ve got it bad for Henry Bowers.