I eye him over. “What places have you snuck in and out of?”
He leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers, “I’ve spent my entire life sneaking around to avoid the paparazzi.”
And there goes that heart flutter again.
What the actual hell?
“All right, point proven.” I move away from him and push open the door.
He still doesn’t release my hand even when I climb out. He moves with me, and hops out, too.
“We’ll be back shortly,” he informs the driver before shutting the door.
The locks immediately click.
“That guy is creeped out about being here.” I start toward the left side of the building where my bedroom window is located.
“I picked up on that, too.” He tightens his hold on my hand as we near the corner. “But he’s getting paid good money, so he should be fine.”
“We’ll see.” I pause at the corner then peek around, relieved to see no one lurking in the shadows. “I have a feeling our ride might be gone by the time we get out.”
He’s standing so close to me that I can feel his body heat kissing my skin. “I’ll call another driver if that happens.”
“Always the problem solver,” I tease, throwing him a grin over my shoulder.
He smiles back, but it’s faint, and his eyes briefly descend to my lips. It’s like the third time he’s looked, as if he’scontemplating kissing me. Part of me wants to tell him we can’t cross that line so I can put an end to the impending torment of heartache that I’m sure will follow what I know will be a hot as hell kiss. The other part of me wants to sayfuck itand deal with the aftermath.
Is pain really worth a soul-connecting moment? I don’t know. I’ve lived my life not following that rule, and I’m starting to question my decision.
“Come on,” I tell him, tugging on his hand. “Let’s go scope the place out.”
His boots scuff against the gravel as he slightly stumbles but quickly recovers. Then we creep like weirdos past a few curtain-closed windows until we reach mine. The curtain is shut, but I can tell the lights are off, either in the entire house or the bedroom door is shut.
“Be super quiet,” I whisper, letting go of his hand so I can carefully slide the window open.
“It isn’t locked?” River whispers back, his wide-eyed gaze almost laughable.
“Itdoesn’tlock,” I tell him as I inch the window open further.
“Maddy, how in the …?” He shakes his head, stunned. “This isn’t safe.”
“Well, I don’t live here anymore,” I reply quietly as I get the window open all the way. “And no one crept through it while I was living here.” Granted, I sometimes used to push furniture in front of it to ensure I stayed safe, especially when many parties were going on at the place.
I put my hands on the windowsill and hoist myself inside, swinging my legs over and ducking underneath the curtain. Relief washes over me as I note that my bedroom door is shut, but no light is coming through underneath it. Between that and the soundlessness of the house, my bet is my mother is out. That’s not a total surprise—she’s rarely home.
As I straighten, I move out of the way as River climbs inside. Once he’s in, I close the window, wincing as a sliver gets lodged into my thumb.
“Dammit,” I whisper as I close the curtain and darkness encases us.
“What’s wrong?” River sounds close, but it’s too dark for me to tell.
“I got a sliver in my finger. It’s no biggie. I’ll pull it out when we get out of here.” I start toward the door, squinting against the darkness so I can make out the outline of the furniture. “I’m going to make sure my mother isn’t sleeping in her room. Hold on.” Sucking in a breath, I open the door and tiptoe down the hallway to her room.
The door is open, and the curtains at her window are open enough to let in the streetlights from outside, showing that her bed is empty, unmade, and covered with a collection of alcohol bottles.
I also check the living room to check that she’s not passed out on the sofa. Once I’m convinced the coast is clear, I return to my room, close and lock the door, and flip on the flashlight on my phone.
River squints against the light, but after blinking a few times, he takes in my messy bedroom.
