Sure enough, I whirl around to see a head of thick dark hair toppled in front of his eyes, the rest of his features veiled in the limited light as he pulls himself up and in through my window.
My heart threatens to explode in my chest, and my legs have been reduced to trembling gelatin, so it’s a miracle I’m still on my feet.“What the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he growls, brushing himself off and pushing the bottom of the window back down.
“It looks like you’re trying to give me a heart attack!” I whisper-slash-sneer.
“Sorry, I just wanted to get in the house.”
“Funny, it’s too bad there aren’t these large rectangular cutouts in the wall you could use to head in and out of places. Oh, wait, that’s right, there is! It’s called a door!” His statement replays in my head, and I want to kick myself at the weird satisfaction of hearing him actually saying the word, ‘sorry.’
“Someone locked both the front and back doors with the dead latch,” he huffs, brushing himself off. “My only options were to either sleep on the front porch for the next five hours or come through your window.”
“There are also these things called cell phones,” I say dryly. “Perhaps you’ve heard of them. A simple call or text message to me, and I could have unlocked the dead latch.”
“Wow, really?” he mocks. “That never occurred to me. Oh, wait, that’s right, I did. About a dozen times. You didn’t answer. And I tried getting your attention by throwing acorns below your window, but you still didn’t respond. I figured after the country club that you’d probably sneak out for the night.”
I roll my eyes, despite knowing he can’t see the gesture. The only source of light comes from the distant streetlight and the pale glow of my laptop screen. “I haven’t snuck out in years.”
The second I say it, I want to kick myself for admitting to that.No, Jase. Since you left, I haven’t done anything remotely fun or thrilling or reckless.
At least it seems Jase hasn’t been snooping around my room while I’ve been out of the house, because he’s lookingaround the space like maybe he stepped inside the wrong room. There’s just enough light to make out the furniture and vague shapes of knickknacks, all of which are foreign. Any discernible evidence that thisisactually my room is still packed away in the basement. The lines of my stuffed penguins are gone, and it’s the first thing he notices. All that’s left is Swaddle, sitting alone on the otherwise bare dresser.
Jase plucks him up, twisting the plushy at multiple angles as if to get a better look at the bandages on top of its head. The action certainly givesmea better look at his hands, which are smudged with what I can only imagine to be grime from the lattice and window ledge.
I instantly snatch the penguin away, hugging Swaddle to my chest. “You’re getting him dirty.”
Jase doesn’t move, his hands frozen in place, as if he’s still holding the stuffed animal.
“What?” I finally hiss when he just continues to stand there.
When he still doesn’t say anything, I start to pull open my bedroom door, ready to usher him out, only to find light flooding the hallway. The only things illuminating the upstairs after dark should be the night lights plugged in along the length of the hall, but the bright overhead lamp fixture five feet from my door is on. It pours into my room, highlighting more than just my furniture. I gasp at the sight of black and blue surrounding Jase’s left eye, not to mention the gash ripped across the top of his cheekbone. Not only that, but the grime on his hands isn’t grime at all.
It’s dried blood.
A million and ten questions come to mind, but I don’t get to voice any of them as the floorboards in the hall creak.“Ali?”
Jase barely manages to duck behind the door as my dad nudges it open far enough for him to peek inside.
“Everything okay in here? It sounded like you screamed.”
“No. I mean yes. I’m totally fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I blurt, far too tensely and way too quickly.
Smooth.
But can you blame me? I’m scantily clad in nothing but a tank top and boy briefs, there’s a guy in my bedroom, in the middle of the night, and my dad just heard what would best be described as a gasping scream… Yeah, this doesn’t look bad or anything, right?
“I just…had a bad dream, is all,” I recover just as clumsily. “You know, the usual. Pandas…were trying to kill me.”
My dad eyes me like I might be high, but he eventually just shakes his head. “Ooookay. Well…”
“Sorry, I’ll try to keep the noise down.” I force out a laugh in an attempt to sound lighthearted, but it’s pitchy and stiff, making me sound all the more crazy, but Dad seems as satisfied with the answer as he can be.
Heaving out a breath, he finally notices the penguin I’ve still got pinned to my chest. “Aren’t you a little old to still be sleeping with stuffed animals?”
I want to glare at Jase but instead smile like an idiot. “You would think so.”
Only once Dad leaves and the light in the hall switches back off do I dare to exhale. I hear a certain someone do the same from the shadows beside me, but I’m not letting him off that easy.“What the fuck, Jase?”
