This time, I tossed a pebble at the correct window. It tapped the glass with a soft but crisp sound. A moment later, the curtain twitched.
Then the window slid up and Tori leaned out. Her messy hair framed her face, but her eyes were sharp as if she hadn’t been asleep at all.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she hissed.
“I, well … I couldn’t sleep?” I offered weakly.
She slow-blinked, her eyebrows raised, and shook her head. “And that’s my problem, how exactly? This isn’t an early 2000s romance movie, dude.”
I drew a deep breath, holding up a finger, but then deflated. “It isn’t your problem.” Ishifted my weight, suddenly feeling ten times more awkward. “I just … didn’t want to be alone.”
Her eyes softened, the annoyance slowly draining from her face as she just stared at me.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “And I didn’t want to wake Tane because he’ll make me do hill sprints at sunrise. So I thought … I don’t know. Maybe you'd … maybe you’d talk to me. Or tell me to piss off. Either one works.”
With a resigned sigh, she shook her head. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“And you’re lucky my gran sleeps like a log.”
I barely managed to keep a straight face.
She looked up at the sky, sighing again, then pierced me with her gaze. “Shut up and climb in.”
Chapter 9
Kai
Myheartdamnnearpunched its way out of my ribcage and suddenly, the nerves hit me.
I grabbed the trellis — praying it would support my weight — and hauled myself up to her window. She took a step back, folding her arms and watching me with her signature unimpressed stare, making me want to grin like a fool.
“If you fall, I’m not calling an ambulance.”
“Fair enough.”
I dropped into her room as quietly as a six-three, 240-pound man could.
She stared up at me for a moment, her bright eyes looking right into my fucking soul.
Fuck me, I didnotthink this through.
Tori was wearing nothing but a pair of tight, minuscule shorts and a tank top. No fucking bra.
I cast a furtive glance around her room to distract myself and was surprised by how plain it was. I’d moved in next door mere months ago, and my room looked more lived-in than this one.
“So,” she said, crossing her arms tighter, “you couldn’t sleep?”
I shook my head. “Not even a little.”
“Why?”
I hesitated, trying to prevent my attention from straying to the abundance of exposed skin right in front of me.
My throat started to close up as I swallowed, nervously licking my lips.
“Because,” I admitted, “the house felt too quiet. And when it’s quiet, I think too much. And when I think too much, I think about all the things I shouldn’t be thinking of.”
