Five
Four seconds.That is how long I have to react.
Four fucking seconds.
It’s not a lot of time to calm yourself. Especially when you’ve just overheard something you can’t un-hear.
Adrenaline hits my system hard. I can taste it. Bitter. Sharp. In the sweat on my upper lip.
I slam my head on the nearest book—not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to leave a mark. Proof I was asleep. Contort my body into a sleeping position that looks like I’m about to fall off my chair but haven’t quite.
Then I let myself drool.
Last, because Alex is a reincarnated hippie, I slow my breathing with box breathing.
Four counts in. Hold four. Four counts out. Hold four.
It’s a fucking talent.
My heart is hammering so hard I’m sure Dom will hear it from the stairs. But I force my breathing to slow. Force my hands to relax on the book. Force every muscle to go limp.
By the time Dom’s footsteps enter the stacks, I look half asleep.
When he touches my shoulder, I don’t even flinch. Call it a superpower.
“Dylan,” he whispers, gently nudging my shoulder. “Dylan, wake up.”
I yawn, blinking slowly, but he knows I’m now awake. Bleary-eyed, I turn and smile at him before letting myself register where I am and what I was doing.
Really, I deserve a fucking Emmy for this performance.
“Oh no, sir,” I whine a little. “I drooled all over the folders.” I attempt to wipe off the saliva, but there’s no point.
“Did you finish?” he asks, but his eyes aren’t on the folders. They’re on me. Searching.
“I did.” I gather everything and stack it up for him, finally uncovering my phone with his missed calls. I turn and hand it over. “I’m so sorry I missed your call.”
“You sleep deeply,” he observes. Not a question. A statement. Waiting to see if I’ll contradict it.
I rub my eyes, yawn again. “I was out cold. I don’t even remember sitting down.”
“It’s nothing.” He grabs the folders, grunting to himself when he flips through them. His cold blue eyes flick back to me once more before he nods. “Go home. Get some rest.”
He taps the folders once, twice before adding, “Don’t clean up. I’ll have someone else do it Monday.”
I stand and stretch, gathering my things.
“Do you need a lift home?” he asks, clearly waiting for me to grab the rest of my things and walk with him. “I can call you an Uber.” His phone is already out, the app up.
“I’d love that, actually.” I adjust my messenger bag over my body and follow him to the elevator, which of course now works.
Because he turned it on.
“Oh.” I step in with him. “Can we stop and—” I grab my phone and check Alex’s location. “Still downtown,” I mutter to myself.
“Pick up Alex?” he finishes for me.
My blood runs cold.
