Crane looks at the front door, swigging the last of the whiskey as he shrugs. “Alright, enlighten me.”
I sigh, watching as Crane drops the whiskey bottle to the ground, then like he remembers where he is, he picks it back up, putting it in the recycling. I can’t help but grin when he meets my eyes, a chuckle leaving his lips.
“What?”
I nod to the glass bag with amusement. “I thought you were going to be a bad boy and smash it on the drive or something, but no, you pop it nicely into the recycling.”
Crane laughs, and his face is transformed into one that makes my heart flutter, lifting me meters from the floor, twirling me in the air like a ballerina.
“Your dad is particular about that shit.” Crane smiles, and for a second, all I do is grin back at him like a fucking idiot.
Get a grip, Sierra; you’re his buddy’s little sister.
“He loves recycling.”
What am I saying? Am I really talking about my dad’s recycling habits with Crane?
“So,” Crane yawns, nodding at the back gate, “am I going to get a front-row seat for the Sierra show?”
I scoff, turning to open the gate, leaving it ajar so he can follow me. My bedroom sits above the kitchen, which has a flat roof, meaning I get to sneak out whenever I want.
Crane is staring up at my bedroom from the bottom of the ladder I’m wobbling on, his face frozen in shock.
“Sierra, you can’t go up there like this.”
Here we go again with the Daddy shit.
“I’m good, Dad?—”
I make it onto the roof, losing my footing when Crane steadies me, scaring the shit out of me.
Where did he come from?
His hand circles my wrist, guiding me to the window that’s still slightly ajar from my exit earlier.
“What did you just call me?”
I try to swallow, but I’m too busy trying to excuse my stupidity, chewing on my lip as he closes his eyes.
“Never mind, just go.”
I turn to my window, hoisting myself up with the confidence only a drunk could have. My heel slips on the ledge, and I fall back, straight into Crane’s fucking arms.
“Fuck!” I hiss, knocking both of us onto the stones covering the roof, splitting my palms open upon impact. “Ouch!”
Crane grunts when he hits the roof, and I scramble to get up, my bloodied hands slipping on the stones.
“Shit, I’m sorry!”
Get up, Sierra, you fucking mess!I curse myself, my knee pressing into the stones as I rise.
“Well, that’s enough noise to wake the fucking dead.”
Crane scowls as he gets up, his hands reaching for mine as he groans.
“I’m supposed to be looking out for you. Now, look at you, covered in blood!”
Crane looks furious with himself, and I shake my head, trying to tell him that it’s okay; I’m not hurt, but he’s already lifting me into my room.
