He melted from the shadows with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I thought you’d never notice.”
I didn’t have anything cocky to say back, because I’d caught him purely by chance. “Where’s your favourite place in the house?” I asked, ignoring his tone.
Brushing his dark hair out of his face, he shrugged. “My bedroom.”
“You’ve got this entire house, and it’s your bedroom? Why?”
“I didn’t sign up for an interrogation,” he said with a snort.
He carried himself ahead of me, darting up the stairs to the top floor. I followed. In the upstairs living room, dark and musty, he stopped in the far corner. I had to hold my breath to avoid coughing from the plume of dust the carpet kicked up when I walked on it. “Since you seem so bored, I’ll show you my second favourite place in the house,” Waylon said.
“You’d think if this was your favourite, you’d dust more,” I said.
Glaring at me, he leaped straight up and I stumbled back. The tips of his fingers caught at the edge of a shadowed hole in the ceiling, pushing the piece of drywall covering it back. With ease he pulled himself up and in. “The horrid spare living room isn’t my favourite. Come up here.”
How the hell was he expecting me to?
I couldn’t jump eight feet in the air, nor did I have inhuman strength to drag myself up. Not that I needed inhuman strength to do what was essentially a pull up. Regardless, I was too weak.
Scanning the room, I grabbed the corner of an old, solid wood side table and dragged it over. Standing on it, I still couldn’t reach the lip of the hole. Waylon was drenched in darkness, but I knew he was smirking. I climbed down again and pulled a rickety old chair over to place on top of the side table. The surface wasn’t what I would call solid or safe.
Fuck it.
I took careful steps up to stand on the chair and grabbed the lip. My arms trembled as I tried to hoist myself up and through the hole. After a few failed attempts to drag myself up, Waylon sighed. “Here. Grab my hand.”
Our fingers joined and he yanked me with surprising strength, nearly pulling my damn shoulder out of its socket. But I landed in what was apparently an attic I hadn’t known about, the floor beneath me thankfully solid. There was no room to stand, but the height in the centre was plenty enough to crawl. Like the living room below, everything was dusty, but unlike the living room, a clear trail was tracked through the centre. Waylon came up here often.
My heart swelled to know he’d truly shown me somewhere special.
Well, maybe special was being overly optimistic. He hadn’t shown me anything other than the existence of another area to search yet.
“Follow me.”
His ass waved in front of me as he wove through the mess of boxes up here, bringing me farther away from the hole. I assumed it was the only access, because I couldn’t spot any more holes. Trying to avoid a fit of sneezes, I trailed behind him until a slight tingle on my ankle made me freeze.
A glance up confirmed the existence of a massive amount of spider webs, and I let out a long breath.
I wasn’t scared of spiders, but I didn’t particularly want one crawling on my leg, and the tingle was moving. Moving slowly until I lifted my foot up, I then frantically shook. The spider didn’t dislodge. I glanced back to see the situation, wondering if I could brush the critter off with my hand.
Nope.
Absolutely. Fucking. Not.
Taking its leg span into account, the spider was half the size of my hand, with a fuzzy brown body. Beady eyes stared back at me. Way too many of them. The first panic attack I’d had in a while was creeping up on me as I realized the creature wasn’t alone, and plenty more were coming out of the woodwork. Most were the same size, but some were bigger. My whole body froze, my foot still hovering in the air. “Waylon?” I called, my voice reedy and thin.
Every sharp breath blew dust around me, and a sneezing fit felt imminent. I had to hold it back. As soon as I sneezed, we would break this staring match and the spiders would swarm me. Maybe as soon as I moved at all. The critters were looking at me with thousands of eyes between them, all far too intelligent.
“What?” Waylon asked.
His voice was farther ahead, my little spider break separating us in the dimness of the attic.
“Come here, please.”
A spider descended from the rafters above my head, and I squeezed my eyes shut. If I ignored them, they weren’t there. The one on my leg had stopped moving, so I could ignore them.Yes. Totally. Hadley, ignore the spiders. They won’t hurt you.
“Oh, are they bothering you?” I heard the shuffle of Waylon’s knees across the wood first, then his voice followed by a soft snort. “Guys, leave her alone. Can’t you see she’s freaking out?”
He was talking to the spiders like they understood every word he was saying. When the tingle of legs raced down my ankle and away, I was convinced they did. My trembling foot dropped to the ground, and I peeled my eyes open again. Waylon was smirking slyly, a couple of spiders wandering across his back and in his hair. There wasn’t a hint of tension in his body, so he either didn’t know, or was simply relaxed by their presence.
