My head cranks to the side when the door handle stops rattling and Hugo’s large shadow vanishes from beneath the door. I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, shocked that he gave up so easily. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. It’s not like I’m a princess trapped in a castle waiting for prince charming to rescue me.
The sinking of my heart stops when, “If you’re sitting behind the door, Ava, I need you to move,” comes vibrating through the door.
He wouldn’t really kick down the door, would he?Jorgie would never forgive me if she had to live with no privacy until her door was repaired. Knowing how annoying her older brothers are, I know they would take their sweet ass time replacing her busted door. They would do anything if it lessened the chance of her having any “private” time.
“Have you moved, Ava? Please tell me you’ve moved. I don’t want to hurt you.”
My heart clutches in my chest from the torment in his voice.
“Wait,” I whisper faintly, scampering off the floor.
The darkness shadowing the bottom of the door returns, closely followed by the deep pants of Hugo’s breath. I suck in a nerve-cleansing breath before sweeping open the door. The mixture of whiskey and a scent that belongs solely to Hugo filters through my senses when he steps into the room. The concern contorting his face amplifies when his eyes zoom in on my tear-stained cheeks. He smiles a wary smirk before pivoting on his heels to close the door.
“Ava, I’m sorr--”
“I’m not leaving this room,” I interrupt, pacing to stand in the middle of it. Surprisingly, my voice comes out stronger than I’m expecting. “I’m never leaving this room.”
Not just because I don’t want to face the roguish taunts of my peers, but because I’m petrified of what my father’s reaction will be if he learns about my lewd strip. In the glimmer of the bedside lamp, my eyes catch sight of a photo on Jorgie’s nightstand. It is a picture of Jorgie, Hugo, and me taken at Hugo’s thirteenth birthday party. We were so young and carefree back then. Our only concern that day was who got the biggest slice of cake.Oh, how things have changed in five years.
“You don’t have to go out right now, but eventually, you’re going to have to leave this room,” Hugo says, his tone sincere but with an edge of wittiness to it.
I stick out my lip and pout. “Why? Can’t I just stay in here forever?”
A smirk tugs Hugo’s lips higher as he paces closer to me, shaking his head. “You would soon grow tired of Jorgie’s loud snoring,” he jests playfully.
I roll my eyes. Jorgie may have a slight wheeze when she is sleeping, but it isn’t loud enough to douse my enthusiasm for hiding in her room for the rest of eternity.
“And Jorgie doesn’t have cable TV, so how are we going to spend our Sunday afternoons watching re-runs of ‘Friends’ if you’re locked up in here?” Hugo asks.
My lips curl into a small smile. I love our Sunday afternoon ritual. Since Jorgie isn’t a fan of “Friends,” it is the only time I get Hugo all to myself. It may only be for an hour out of an entire week, but I cherish every single second of ouralonetime.
Sensing my determination to be a hermit in Jorgie’s room is wavering, Hugo continues. “There’s also no kitchen in here, and goddamn it, girl, knowing your blueberry pancakes are waiting for me every Sunday morning when I wake is the only thing that keeps me going during the week.”
No longer able to hide my happiness, a broad grin spreads across my face. I swear I roll over like a dog begging for my tummy to be scratched when it comes to Hugo. But it isn’t just his cheeky disposition that keeps me coming back for more. It is the fact he doesn’t expect me to change from the dorky girl hiding behind a mask to what society deems acceptable that I love. Unlike Jorgie, Hugo doesn’t care if I wear jeans that are a size too big or sweaters we could both fit into. He still greets me with the same amount of excitement no matter what hideous outfit I'm wearing.
Smirking, I lift my eyes and lock them with his. He paces closer to me and hands me my black thick-rimmed glasses.
“Thank you, but I don’t need them to see,” I mumble under my breath.
My heart skips a beat when he says, “I know, but they are your protective shield that keeps you hidden from the strangers lurking in the dark.”
He places his hand under my chin and lifts my deflated head high into the air. Any leftover tears dry from the kindness radiating out of his eyes. “You’re like Clark Kent. You keep your superhero identity hidden from outsiders.”
My heart warms as a genuine smile tugs on my lips. I wouldn’t say I'm a superhero. I'm more like a tortoise. I only emerge from my shell around Jorgie, Hugo, and their family. The instant I’m pushed back into society, the armor I wear to protect myself slips right back into place. Although I do need glasses to stop my eyes straining when looking at a computer monitor, they’re not a requirement for me to see clearly. My vision is so precise, I can see every small droplet of water clinging to Hugo’s thick lashes.
A small stretch of silence crosses between us as Hugo gives me time to calm down from the debacle of my existence. Once my usual self-composed nature has returned, his glassy eyes shift between mine as he mutters, “Borrow some of Jorgie’s clothes, and when you’re ready, come back out and enjoy the party. If anyone says anything about what happened, they’ll have me to deal with.”
I smile, hiding the grimace trying to cross my face. The last thing I want in my life is the guy who invades my every waking thought taking on the role of big brother.
“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t borrow Jorgie’s clothes,” I say, peering into his concerned eyes.
His face screws up. “Why not?” he asks, strolling to Jorgie’s bursting-at-the-seams closet.
My brows meet my hairline. “Because I’m five foot two and Jorgie is as tall as a gir--”
I stop talking, and my mouth gapes. Hugo’s head cranks back quicker than a bullet being dislodged from a weapon.
“I wasn’t going to say it,” I squeak out when a huge grin stretches across his face.
