I blink. That seems unexpectedly paranoid. “Besides your clothes,” I say carefully, “what do you even have in there worth stealing? You could just take your tablet and phone with you.”
“That’s need-to-know,” he mutters. “If I told you, how would I knowyouwouldn’t steal it?”
I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t. And aren’t there cameras in every corner of this building? If you left your bag and itdiddisappear, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who took it.”
His mouth quirks, the closest thing to amusement I’ve ever seen from him. “There are cameras. But the power’s off, so they’re conveniently useless.”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “Well, I still wouldn’t. If I really wanted something, I’d just put it on a credit card and deal with it later. Back home, we respect other people’s things. It’s kind of a cultural baseline.”
“And where is that again?”
“Home is Tokyo.”
He appraises me. “Huh. I’ve always assumed you were American. Your English is perfect. I’ve never noticed any trace of an accent.”
I swallow the flicker of nerves and keep my tone light. “It’s there if you know what to look for. I’m crap atpronouncing words with the letters R or L, like radio and letter.” As I say the words, radio comes out like “la-gee-oh” and letter as “reh-ter.” “See? I rest my case.”
Theo shrugs. “I still don’t see, or in this case hear, much of a difference. I guess it’s because I’m used to all the regional accents we have back in the UK. How long have you studied English?”
“Since I was five. My parents wanted my sister and me to be able to speak it fluently. But most kids don’t start learning it until they’re eight or nine.”
“I wish I’d been introduced to a foreign language when I was that young,” he mutters, nearly tripping over a step. “I might’ve actually retained something besides ‘where is the library’ and ‘the cat is on the table.’”
I stop walking, leaning against the stairwell railing. My feet have had enough. I’m good at walking in heels, if I do say so myself, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy them. My toes are cramped, my heels feel raw, and my calf muscles are screaming in a language only pain understands.
At this point, I’m beyond caring what Theo thinks. I slip my shoes off my feet and wiggle my toes. “Much better.”
A few steps ahead of me, Theo stops. He turns slowly, his gaze traveling from my face down to my feet.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” I say, feeling the cool concrete against my soles.
He ignores my dismissive tone. “What are you doing?”
“Walking?” I shoot back.
“Without shoes?”
“That’s the plan.”
His facial muscles twitch. “With . . . naked feet.”
I snort. Most people would say barefoot. I wonder whatthe use of the wordnakedsays about his personality. Does he find skin scandalous? I’ll ponder it later.
“I gave up wearing pantyhose and no-show socks after week one,” I explain, stepping onto the next landing. “Florida is too hot and humid for all those layers.”
“No,” he says.
“No, what?”
“No.” He shakes his head. The exhaustion in his eyes is replaced by a brief spark of panicked authority. “You arenotwalking down the rest of the stairs with nothing on your feet. It’s filthy. There could be nails, rogue staples, snakes, or... who knows what else is lurking here.”
“ItisFlorida. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some snakes, giant spiders”—I shiver—“or maybe even a bat around here, but I’m still not putting these back on until we get to the bottom. If my feet are pitch-black by the time we get there, I’ll accept the consequences.”
Muttering something that sounds suspiciously like a British curse word, Theo yanks the zipper of his suitcase open. He rifles through his neatly packed belongings with a frantic energy. “Here.” He thrusts a pair of long black socks into my hands. “At least put these on.”
I unfurl them. “These look like leg warmers. Do you have a secret hobby like professional Jazzercise?”
“They arenotleg warmers,” he snaps, rubbing his temples. “They’re men’s dress socks. High-quality pima cotton.”
