There is a guy standing in the doorway.
Watching me.
Our eyes lock. He opens his mouth and says something, but all I can hear is the whoosh of my pulse and Buckcherry. As I step back, my mind registers the fact that his body takes up most of my exit and he has a sleeve of tattoos down one arm. As I try to find my voice he says, “Don’t scream.”
What the hell? Don’t scream?
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I know Pete.”
What? Creep! “Get out!”
“Okay!” He takes a step into the hallway. “Do you know when he will be –?”
“I said get out!” I pick up the closest thing to me and throw it at him which, unfortunately, happens to be a pair of balled up socks.
He dodges my attack and smiles.
“This isn’t funny!”
His smile grows. “You’re right. It’s not funny.” He turns to leave, but stops. His eyes give me an appreciative once over. “It’s definitely somethin’ though.”
I march forward and slam the door in his face. Then, I grab my phone and text my brother.
Get
home now!
Chapter Four
After I put on some clothes, I yank open the bedroom door to see if my uninvited guest is still around. He’s not in the hallway, so I venture out to search the rest of the apartment. When there’s no sign of him in the living room or the kitchen, I check Pete’s room. I also look out on the balcony, just in case.
He’s disappeared.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, I wait for my pulse to slow. I can’t believe that idiot would just waltz in here like he owned the joint! Has he ever heard of knocking? Speaking of, I wonder if Pete forgot to lock the front door. I push myself off the couch to check. It’s secure.
Creeper must have a key, unless he’s Spiderman. Maybe he did come in through the balcony. I left the sliding door open.
Minutes later, my brother returns. I hear the deadbolt drop, then watch him open the door with his foot. One hand holds plastic bags while the other holds keys. His eyes dart around the room. “What happened?”
I walk toward him and reach for the bags. “One of your friends scared the shit out of me.”
He looks confused. “Who?”
“How am I supposed to know? He was tall and had tattoos down one arm.”
“That’s Latson.” Pete reaches for his back pocket and grabs his vibrating phone. He reads the message and types out a response. “I told him he could stop by to pick up my beer pong table for tonight.”
“You have a beer pong table?”
“Yeah. It’s in your room. Jules probably put it in the closet.”
I carry Pete’s purchases into the kitchen and set them on the counter. “Well, can you tell him you have company? I don’t appreciate strangers staring at me in my underwear.”
“Wait.” Pete sets his phone next to the groceries. “Why did you answer the door in your underwear?”
“I didn’t. I was getting dressed, I turned around, and there he was. How many of your friends have keys to this place?”
My brother frowns. “Only one.” He grabs his phone and sends another message.
I open a bag and take out a package of chicken breasts. Beneath that is a package of bacon and under that is a steak. I was right about the protein. The next bag holds a bunch of bananas, two avocados, an onion, and some baby carrots. I scowl. “Where’s the junk food?”
“Don’t worry,” Pete says. He peruses what he bought. “Here.” He flips what looks like a granola bar at me.
“What is this?” I read the label. It’s a dark chocolate and sea salt Mojo Bar made by the same people that make Cliff energy bars. I hold it by the end of the wrapper. “This is not junk food. I need you to tell me where the store is. I cannot survive on this stuff.”
Pete rolls his eyes and reaches into another bag. He produces two Hostess apple pies. “I didn’t forget your favorite.”
“Yes!” My face lights up. I snag the pastries from his hand, tear one package open, and take a big bite. My mouth is filled with sugary cinnamon goodness.
“Geez.” Pete shakes his head.
“I haven’t had anything to eat yet,” I mumble.
Pete’s phone buzzes and he reads the message. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to take the table to Latson.”
I nod as I chew and continue to remove food from the grocery bags. I’m filling the refrigerator when my brother’s cell goes off again. He left it on the counter and, curious, I glance at the screen. What I read makes me smirk. It’s Pete’s text thread with Latson.
L: Stopped by your place. Who’s your friend?
P: My sister.
Then, a few minutes later:
P: She told me what happened. You’re a dick.
L: Hey. I didn’t know she was your sister. She’s hot.
P: Don’t even think about it asshole.
Then:
L: I still need the table.
P: Be there in a sec.
Hmm. Latson thinks I’m hot? I start to feel smug until my mind jumps to Derek, to the last guy who said that about me. Bastard.
I hope he realizes what he lost.
~~~~
“Will this work?”
Juliana looks me over. “Turn around.”
I comply. I’ve paired my black skinny jeans with a hot pink tank top for tonight’s party. It’s layered down the front and has a sheer mesh back.
“Definitely,” she says when I complete my circle. “I have the perfect shoes for you.” She walks over to a duffle bag. “I didn’t know what you would need, so I brought a few things. I hope you can wear a size seven.”
“That’s small,” I say. “I usually wear an eight.”
She produces a pair of open-toed, black strappy heels. “Well, give them a try. I think they’re super cute.”
They are cute. I sit down on the edge of the bed and take the shoes from her. To my surprise, my foot fits. Sure, my toes hang off the end, but if I scoot my heel back they’re almost perfect. Since this party is in Latson’s apartment, I decide to suffer for fashion. We’ll probably be sitting most of the night anyway.
“Thanks,” I say. “I didn’t think to bring dressy shoes. Without these I’d be stuck with my flats.”
Juliana smiles. “That’s what friends are for.”
We head to the bathroom to put the finishing touches on our appearance. I look at our reflections in the mirror. With these shoes on, I tower over Jules. “I’m a giant next to you,” I laugh.
She winds a section of her auburn hair around a curling iron and frowns. “I’m used to it. Everyone is taller than me.”
I apply some mascara to my lashes.
“Have you ever thought of using blue eye shadow?” she asks. “It would really make your eyes pop.”
I stare at my pale baby blues. “No. I think it’s too ‘80’s.”
“Here.” She sets the curling iron aside and grabs my hand. She lowers the toilet lid and makes me sit. “Let me play. If you don’t like it you can take it off.”
I decide to let her experiment. I don’t know any of the people going to this party and the chances of seeing them again are small. If I end up looking like Debbie Harry it will be okay. Plus, it feels nice to do girly things. Not that I don’t wear skirts and paint my nails, but I haven’t spent time with a girlfriend in forever. Most of my close friends moved away after high school, with the exception of Melanie. I talk to her from time to time, but it’s usually online. We don’t hang out often because she has a little one and another on the way.
Juliana paints my closed eyelids. “So,” she says. “I heard you met Latson today.”
I grimace. “You could call it that.”
“Stop scrunching,” she chastises. “Pete told me he scared you.”