“What does that mean?” she barked as her fists kept clenching, then relaxing, like she was imagining punching something. Maybe me.
“Nothing,” I laughed casually. “I’m fucking with ya. I promise you won’t see me for dust around these parts.” It was a lie, she will see me. Mere flashes in the dark or in the back of her mind. But she’ll mostly feel me. Or hear me.
She hesitated for a few moments to let a group of students pass by on the road under the safety of the streetlights. I could tell this one didn’t like groups, being sociable. It takes time to make friends when you’re new to the madhouse.
“Bye,” she suddenly said, and my heart sank because I would’ve liked her to stay and talk some more.
“I don’t suppose you can let me in when I’m done,” I called after her.
She paused and turned back, half her body smothered in the dark and the other half in the light. Interesting. “Why?” shepressed as her right hand unclenched and rubbed her chin nervously.
“Because I forgot my keycard,” I confessed.
“You forgot…” a snort rattled through the dark as her body shook. She was laughing. “You rushed out so abruptly after banging on my door that you forgot to take your keycard with you?”
I cleared my throat, not finding this embarrassing in the slightest. “Yes.”
More laughter, like cute giggly shit that kinda lit me up inside. “No,” she spat. “You can stay out here as punishment.”
“Okay, fine,” I said, lying back with my hand behind my head. “No problem. It won’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last.”
She hesitated, realizing that I cannot be beaten, turned her back again, and walked off. I watched her go until I couldn’t see her anymore, expecting her to return in three…two…one.
Nothing.
I’ll give it another few beats before she’ll reappear in three…two…one.
Still no sign of her.
Huh, it looks like I’m staying here the night.
5
When I lay in bed, I thought of him lying on the grassin the garden and was tempted to return and offer to open the door for him. I guess I was being mean because, after all, he did wash our dishes, then basically accused me of being tardy. But I had to be tough and let him know that he couldn’t use me to play little games. He’s an adult; he can look after himself. Besides, he seemed to know his way around this hellhole more than I did.
Anyway, I slept well—better than I expected in this strange place of hooting owls and whistling winds. At one point, I thought someone was in my bathroom, so I got up and turned on the light, only to discover that I had a leaky faucet. I madea mental note to call maintenance, as there were also waves of a foul smell that crept up my nostrils, like something dead was underneath the floor or somewhere.
After I finished showering, I heard tapping on my window. With a towel wrapped around my breasts, I looked out and saw that guy from last night standing on the park below—the door knocker.
Hesitating, I opened the window and stuck my head out. “What?” I snapped at him. “Did you just throw something at my window? Lucky you didn’t break the glass.”
Ignoring my scolding tone. “Can you open the door for me?” he asked nicely, but not nicely enough.
“Did you lose your manners on the way over?” I hissed, and a little smile spread across his face. I then realized how attractive he was. Not handsome like the Warwick brothers, but more interesting-looking—weathered and edgy. Or maybe that was because he had spent the night sleeping outside.
Nostrils flaring, he swept his unruly black hair back with his fingers, then rubbed his unshaven jaw with the back of his knuckles. “Please.”
“Sorry, I can’t hear,” I said, placing my hand by my ear and almost dropping my towel.
“Please,” he said louder as a group of jocks appeared dressed in sweats, wet hair, chewing on protein bars, footballs in their hands.
He glanced back at them and didn’t seem too concerned, even though they weren’t his tribe, then turned his back on them. I’d never turn my back on jocks, especially when they’re holding balls that could hit me on the head. Yes, that was an experience I had all through high school. It was a mystery that, of all people in a crowd, it was always me that a stray ball or bottle of water smacked in the head. I wasn’t particularly tall or a loud attention seeker, but still, that ball would find my head.
“Fine. Give me two minutes to put some clothes on,” I told him, and a twinkle flashed in his eyes.
“No need,” he replied, finding some charm in his ominous demeanor. “You can come down like that. The towel is fine.”
I shot him a scowl that made him smile wider, even though he tried to hide it, and I stepped away from the window, drew the blind, and quickly dressed.
