And today, these girls gave it to me.
I guess that’s what friends are for.
It’s nearlytwo-thirty in the morning when I finally pull into the driveway, headlights pouring over the front of Hess’s house. Dinner with the girls ran late. We stood in the parking lot, talking long after all the restaurant employees had left, and I still had my long drive home. Normally, getting in late wouldn’t be a big deal. Except, I realize once I’m standing on the porch, I don’t have my house keys. In my rush to leave the office earlier that evening, I accidentally left them on my desk.
Such a bummer at this hour.
Especially since the extra key that used to be under the doormat is the one Hess gave me when I moved in.
Every door is locked. I already tried them all. I even jiggle a couple of the windows that are low enough for me to reach.
Nothing.
This place is harder to get into than the White House.
My stomach twists with irritation. I just want to be in bed.
I text Hess. No reply. I call him. It rings and rings.
His slide show comes to mind, and I suddenly remember that he’s a self-proclaimed heavy sleeper.
Great.
Just great.
I pace in front of his bedroom window, phone glowing in my hand as I hit call again. Still nothing. I wish I hadn’t told him this morning not to wait up for me.
I decided to march up to his window and knock.Hard.
“Hess!” I hiss then pound harder. Bushes scrape against my legs as I wedge myself closer, peeking in. That’s when I see it—the latch flipped the opposite way. His window is unlocked.
Oh, thank you, Heaven.
I push. The pane groans open an inch, then another, until I have just enough space. With one foot braced on the waterspout, I hoist myself through. Unfortunately, I put a little too much muscle into it and tumble forward. My body crashes to the floor, legs smacking into the nightstand and knocking things down with a loud clatter.
Before I can even move, Hess is on me. His weight pins me down, wrists shoved above my head, his body tense and ready for a fight. And he’s wearing nothing but briefs.
I feel like that’s an important detail to mention here.
“It’s me!” My voice comes out rushed and panicked. “Hess, it’s me!”
His eyes, still fogged from sleep, adjust slowly in the moonlight. The pressure on my wrists loosens. “Camila?”
“Yes.” I’m breathless, half from the fall, half from the way he’s straddling me. I think he knocked the wind out of me when he flung his body on top of mine.
“What are you doing?”
“I was locked out. I called. I pounded on your window. What else was I supposed to do?”
His brow furrows. “I think I heard it. But it was part of my dream.”
I push on his chest, trying to get him off me, but instead, my touch on his warm skin ignites something, making the entire compromised position worse.
Charged silence fills the air between us.
What was adrenaline and fear turns into something else entirely.
Something heavier.
