Huh?He’ssorry? For me coming ontohim?“No,I’msorry. I’m?—”
Every single light in the building turns on at once, blinding me with harsh, white fluorescent hellfire.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NICK
Dean yells something, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s a swear word in Mandarin.
When he follows it up with a muttered “fuck me,” I can’t help but smirk.
“Wo cao.” I repeat the supposed curse word to him, and seeing his disbelieving expression makes a smile tug at my lips.
“For the record, I didnotteach you how to say that,” he mutters.
“But you just did.” And I repeat the phrase again for good measure.
He rolls his eyes. He’s got the right to do so, since I sent him a bunch of mixed signals, teased him to the point of desperation, and then promptly ditched him. I’m surprised the guy hasn’t punched me in the face.
“God, is this place seriously getting raidedagain?” I wonder out loud, in part to cut through my own tension.
On the other side of the room, the entire baseball team is clambering out of the windows, avoiding the cops who are streaming in through the front door.
Dean gives me a small shrug, his expression neutral. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Do you want to get out of here?”
“Fuck, yeah.” I scrub a hand through my hair. The cops make it to the escape window just after Ian and Callum jump through it, and I turn back to Dean. “I'm not trying to waste my night waiting to get my ID checked. Let's go.”
“Go? Where?”
Something possesses me to grab his wrist, my heart rate pickingup the second I circle it. Time is running out, so I take off with a surprised Dean in tow, weaving through the murmuring crowd and into the bathroom. There’s a window in the final stall, which is gonna be our escape route. We slip into the stall, and I shut the door behind us.
Withanyoneelse, this would be the ideal setting for a lewd joke about bathroom sex, but given what happened between us…
“This is it,” I announce, pointing at the window. “Our escape route.”
His jaw drops. “Nick, that’s a fucking crevice.”
“Hey, I’ve done this before.” I slide the window open, breathing in the fresh air wafting in. “I'll push you, then you pull me through from the other side.”
“Uh, okay?” Skepticism is written all over his face, but it’s clear we’re out of options and time, so he steps onto the toilet and gets his head level with the window. He swivels his head, giving me an expectant look that I return, and clambers through, one shoulder after the other.
He’s a natural.
But he also needs a push.
At first, I try grabbing onto his denim-clad legs, but I can’t muster enough force to get him through the opening.
The only option left is his butt.
It’s a nice butt—I’m sure someone else would describe it as perky or something. The denim of his light jeans clings to those muscles, but now isn’t the time to focus on why I’m noticing.
“I’m gonna have to shove you,” I tell him.
“Yeah, no shit. I can’t reach anything from my side.”
Letting out a sigh, I swallow my nerves and keep going. “I’ll have to push on your…rear.”
“Fine, go ahead. I don’t?—”
