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I wave. “Hey, Alyx. How’s the new bike coming along?”
“I added some custom lighting.”
“It’s going to be a beauty.”
“It sure is.”
“I just have to drop off some stuff for your dad.” I hold up the bags.
“He’s in the bay grumbling about something or another.”
“I’ll leave it in the house for him. Have you seen Billie today?”
“My sister took off.”
That’s news to me. “Where?”
He shrugs. “She just got on her bike and rode.”
Must be nice. “Alright, catch you later.”
I skip up the porch stairs and lightly knock on the door. I press my ear on the door listening for Corky. The blue fawn pit bull hates me. You’d think at his old age, he’d chill out. But he’s like a grumpy old man.
When I hear nothing, I step inside.
The three-bedroom house is clean but nothing fancy. White walls. Wood floors. Basic furniture. It hasn’t changed much over the years. I remember when four boys shared a bedroom before splitting into the attic and basement. Billie was the only sibling to have her own bedroom.
I navigate the narrow staircase and duck, so I don’t hit my head on the short ceiling. I peek in the bay to check out the shampoo. The Handmade Tale always has amazing products. I pop it open for a sniff.
Deep growling vibrates from the base of the stairs.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
His paws bound up the stairs.
The big, stupid dog will corner me with his barking frenzy until someone comes to save me. And he’s not stupid. That’s the problem. He’s smart, quick, and doesn’t like people in his house. Me included.
I rush inside the bathroom. It won’t be the first time I’ve climbed out a window in this house. The last time was for a very different reason. One I care not to remember.
A blast of hot steam hits my face. I slam the door shut just as the dog's body smashes into it. His frantic nails scratch the wood. His low-toned barking vibrates under the crack of the door.
“Bad dog,” I grumble.
“I see you and Corky still aren’t getting along.”
The husky, deep familiar voice kisses all the right places.
Johnny Creed.
My lifelong crush. The boy who took my virginity and then left without a word.
I whip around and run straight into a wall of muscle. I bounce off the dripping wet flesh. An arm snakes around my back and pulls me firmly against his naked chest. The shampoo squirts between us. Some sort of half scream bubbles out of my chest. The shampoo hits my face and burns my eyes.
“My eyes. There’s soap in my eyes.”
“I got you.” With my eyes clamped shut, I expect him to guide me to the sink. Instead, his arm cups my ass and lifts me.
“Johnny, what are you doing? Put me down.” My sandals slip off my feet.
