I move quietly down the corridor, my shoes making almost no sound against the thick carpet. The laughter comes again—two voices, maybe more.
Females whispering.
I round the next corner just as the door to room 522 opens.
Three figures slip out.
Calliope. Mabree. And Harleigh.
They don’t notice me at first. They’re too busy whispering and laughing like conspirators who just pulled off some kind of heist.
Calliope has a mischievous glint in her eye.
Harleigh …
My gaze lingers on her longer than it probably should.
She’s dressed very differently than she was when I ran into her this afternoon.
Tonight, she’s wearing curve-hugging jeans and a fitted, long-sleeved shirt that clings softly to her shape.
Her long flaxen hair falls loose over her shoulders.
I glance down at my watch again.
What exactly are they doing in a guest room at this hour?
My curiosity sharpens. And so does my suspicion.
I take a few silent steps forward and clear my throat.
All three of them spin around.
Their laughter dies mid-breath.
Their eyes go wide.
Calliope freezes like a cat caught stealing food.
Harleigh looks like someone just turned a spotlight on her.
Moments like this are the best part of having the ability to sneak up on people like I appeared out of thin air.
It’s the number one perk of the hidden elevator.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at them.
No one ever knows where or how I’ll show up.
And the reactions are always priceless.
I slide my hands casually into my pockets.
“What are you three doing?”
My eyes drift deliberately from their startled faces to the closed door of room 522.
Then back again.
