Page 101 of This is a Kissing Book

“Because, of course, there are mysterious underground tunnels beneath Washington, DC. Why wouldn’t there be?”

“Stay close,” I say as we enter a low, yet cavernous space that seems to go on and on.

Jules’s expression squishes up, squeamish. “A tunnel filled with spiders and other creepy crawlies.”

“Did you ever watch the Indiana Jones movies?”

“Of course, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to star in one.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

She snorts.

Pointing out the obvious, I say, “You can handle pretending to be part of a pest extermination team, yet you aren’t a fan of the dark places where they hide.”

“I thought we’d find a vault with the letters in it or something.” Her nervous laugh echoes through the hollow space.

“Is safe cracker part of your resume, too?”

“No, actually. But what I imagined was more James Bond. Less Indiana Jones.”

“You have some imagination.” I laugh.

“What was that?” she asks, going rigid.

I listen and hear what sounded like a door closing, but from far away. I tell her as much, trying to be assuring. “Stay close.”

As we go deeper, I do wonder if we’d have been better off calling in professionals … but for what? Because I’m chasing a lark, some lost love letters, and doing it with the woman who has taken up permanent residence in my brain … also maybe in my chest where that major organ of mine beats wildly every time she’s in my proximity.

The tunnels are narrow, damp, and not recommended for anyone with even the slightest case of claustrophobia. I remind myself to breathe.

Jules remains close at my back, her phone light aloft as I move through the underground maze like I’m following a map when there’s nothing of the sort. I think about hockey, the open space of the arena, breathing fresh, chilled air.

“This is insane,” Jules mutters.

“This is an adventure,” I say, trying to keep morale high even as I scrape my shoulder against another brick wall.

We’re making decent progress when this time, I hear a distant clang and go still. Jules bumps into me, startled. My instinct is to clutch her to me.

“Did you hear that?” I whisper when what I really mean is, Did you feel that? The tremor between us? Will there be aftershocks? But no, we’re in the underground ruins of early America and may never again see the light of day. If this is the way I go, no regrets.

We listen. It comes again, followed by the faint echo of voices.

“Fellow adventurers?” Jules asks brightly.

“Or Checkpoint Secure discovered that we’re not from a pest company.”

“It can’t be good that someone else is down here. Maybe they’re onto us and our fake pest management company,” she whispers, grabbing my arm.

Still listening, the voices seem to be getting closer. They’re gruff, most definitely not the sound of archaeologists or maintenance workers.

“… Drecken said whatever it takes,” one voice says.

“The girl is asking too many questions.”

Ice shoots through my veins. I think they’re talking about Jules.

“It’s not security,” I whisper urgently. “We need to run. Now.”