Page 78 of Play Dirty

I froze. The handle moved slow, testing the lock. Somehow it stayed engaged. There was another bang — right next to my door this time — followed by the sound of footsteps, running.

Eventually, a door slammed, further away.

Silence followed.

I exhaled hard, not realizing I’d been holding my breath for almost a minute. I tried telling myself I wasn’t scared, but my rapidly beating heart said otherwise. I didn’t like the isolation. The thin walls. The way everything felt just a little too close, while the team felt too far away.

I glanced from the door, to the bed, and back again. Then I paced the room, twice.

Finally I sat down on the bed. The very second I did, I jumped up again.

“Seriously?”

Yeah. Seriously.

This was stupid. And I was doing it anyway.

I grabbed my key, checked both ways, and stepped out into the hallway. It was empty now, but a fresh spray of something dark and red — that looked suspiciously like blood — now fanned out across the wall, as well as my door.

I shivered and got moving. Even on the disgusting carpet, every step felt way too loud. I kept moving, shaking off goosebumps, praying that no one would hear me. Eventually I stopped outside one of the doors.

Of course, I knew whose room it was.

I raised my hand. Hesitated. Then knocked, softly.

Five seconds went by. Ten…

The voices down the hall grew loud again. I heard shouting, followed by pounding…

Then the door before me finally opened, and relief flooded through me.

~ 27 ~

HAVEN

The door opened, and I looked up to find Grayson leaning against the frame like he’d been standing there the whole time. His shirt was gone. His hair was damp. Like he’d just gotten out of the shower.

Because of course he had.

“Shower-stalking me again?” he mused.

There was no time for talk. I pushed straight past him and rushed inside, as he looked on in disbelief.

“Why don’t you just come in?” he said sarcastically.

I turned slowly, just as he closed the door. He took one look in my eyes, and then reached up and locked it.

“That bad?” he asked.

“What?”

“You don’t strike me as the type that scares easily,” he said.

“I’m— I’m not.”

“Then why are you here?”

I crossed my arms and tried rubbing away my goosebumps. It wasn’t working.