“Uh-huh,” I answer, my voice barely above a murmur.
“Hey,” Hayes says, catching my attention as he opens the door I’m standing in front of. “Everything all right?” His tone is gentle, but there’s a knowing edge to it—a question you ask someone who doesn’t look all right. It’s the kind of question meant for the person who doesn’t realize they’re causing concern. Which, more often than not, seems to be me.
I take a deep breath and smile as I exhale. “Yeah, it’s…something weird just happened.”
He nudges the door open wider and rests his hand on the small of my back as we walk inside. He looks down at me with a smile that makes his eyes sparkle—a look I’ve seen men make often toward me, right before they remember they left the stove on or have a girlfriend.
Inside, the room is still and silent. Hayes tosses a shopping bag down onto the large king-sized bed and unzips his hoodie. The sound of the zipper cutting through the silence is almost jarring. I slowly scan the room, my eyes darting to everycorner, searching for any sign of who—or what—could have been pounding on the walls and door. But there’s no one here.
“Tori?” Hayes calls, pulling me back to reality.
“Mmm,” I respond, dipping my head to peer under the bed. Nothing. No one. I slide open his closet door, revealing only empty space.
“What’s going on?” Hayes asks, his expression shifting to one of concern, the worry etched into the lines of his face.
“I was just in my room, reading,” I explain, my voice tinged with unease. “Next door to yours, and someone was banging on the walls.”
The corner of his lips turn up into a smirk. “And what have you been drinking?”
Shit, can he smell it on me?
Before I can answer, a soft thudding sound starts up again, this time seeming to come from my room. My eyes widen as the noise grows more insistent, but just as quickly, it fades into a rhythmic, almost tired thumping. It’s as if whatever is causing the sound is growing tired of not being answered.
“Thatwould be the pipes in an old place like this,” Hayes says, his tone casual. “Is that what you heard?”
My shoulders relax a bit, and a shaky laugh bubbles out of me. Pipes. Just pipes and too much whiskey. I cling to his explanation like a lifeline, trying to convince myself that’s all it was.
Yeah, let’s go with that for now. I attempt a smile, but it feels brittle on my face.
Chapter
Four
I’m sitting in the corner of a long, lonely balcony, listening to the wind in the leaves, its whispers and breaths. Strings of bulbs hang from the branches of trees, twinkling stars against the backdrop of dying leaves. A handful of people walk along the narrow sidewalk below, falling leaves zig-zagging over their heads. From inside the restaurant, muted light spills across the terrace and the crowd murmurs, clinking plates and glasses. Laughter rises and falls in waves.
I’m trying to notice it all. Trying to live in the moment. There’s a pumpkin carved into a jack-o’-lantern just beginning to shrivel and rot, slumped against the railing, its mouth sliced into a frightened, pulpy slit. “Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper to its withering face. “I’ll go back in soon. I just needed air.”
A fat fly lands on the corner of its mouth.
“Why are you hiding out here?” Hayes’s voice startles me, my breath catching in an embarrassingly loud gasp.
“Jesus, thanks for the heart attack,” I say, choking out a laugh as I look up at him.
He stands beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine, and warmth seeps through his jacket. “Our food should be out soon. Why don’t you come back inside?”
“I will…I was just taking in the lights, and talking to my friend here,” I say, nodding toward the poor, mutilated pumpkin.
He chuckles softly. “I’m sure it’s a much more interesting conversation than what’s being talked about inside,” he says, his gaze locking onto mine. For a moment, his eyes linger, shifting between mine as if he’s searching for something—something I suddenly desperately want him to find. Then his gaze dips to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “The view’s better out here too.”
Despite the chill in the air, my skin heats, and I can’t help but wish he’d look at me just a little longer. I want to freeze this moment in time, stretch it out like taffy, let the tension between us simmer and build into something more.
“Yeah,” I finally say, my voice softer, almost breathless. “The view is definitely better.”
A slow smile curves on his lips, the kind that makes my pulse quicken and my knees feel like jelly. His fingers brush lightly against mine, sending a spark up my arm. It’s a casual touch, the kind you could easily write off as friendly, but the way he’s looking at me says otherwise. I lean in just a bit, hoping he’ll take the hint and close the gap. But instead, he just hangs there, his smile all teasing, his eyes bright with something I can’t quite decipher but am more than willing to figure out.
I’m holding my breath, waiting for him to make a move, any move, that shows he feels the same spark. The world beyond the balcony blurs into the background, leaving just the two of us in the soft glow of the twinkling lights and the whispering wind.
God, I really don’t want to go back inside and deal withour friends.
