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His eyes narrow slightly. “I see. Bet you’re relieved, then.”
I nod my head eagerly. “Oh, yeah. Totally stoked.”
Totally stoked. Do people even say that anymore?
He nods his head, jaw feathering. “Totally.” His tone is mocking.
Damnit. Peopledon’tsay that anymore.
I stop in front of my faded welcome mat, snatching the keys from the pocket on the side of my bag. Samuel continues to his door, stealing glances toward me as he fishes his key from his pocket.
I shove my key into the lock. “What?” I ask him, lips lifted in question.
He smiles at me, already shaking his head, and oh God, what a smile.
Giggling, yes,giggling, I stumble through my door, bidding him farewell with a sappy goodbye.
Truly, I’m a lost cause.
If the sexy boy next door tries to woo me any harder, I’ll be sleeping in his bed instead of mine.
I relock my door, drop my bag to the ground, and skip into the bathroom, already loosening the tight bun from my hair.
I wait until my shower is steaming before I hop beneath its spray. Tension and poor sleep have wreaked havoc on my muscles, but the battering heat from the water’s force soothes the knots just a little.
I stand there, eyes closed and absorbed by the warmth, until I’m close to swaying myself to sleep. With a sigh, I reach over to grab my phone. It’s mounted to the wall with my latest cool gadget; a waterproof phone holder with built in bluetooth speakers. I hit the home button, which lights up the screen, and swipe to the playlist app.
Instead, I see another message.
It’s a media text.
Gulping, I click the image, watching as it slowly loads.
The photo is of me.
Inside my shower.
Eyes closed, and head tilted.
Nude.
He’s inside my apartment.
The moment realization hits, a deep, dangerous chuckle cuts through the sound of the shower.
“Told you you’d pay. Didn’t I, little bitch?”
An outside force yanks aside my shower curtain.
The masked menace sneers at me, a gun cradled in his hand. The other rises to his face, ripping the black fabric from his skin.
Joey smiles at me, his crooked teeth grit tight. “Aw, don’t cry yet. We still have some fun to get through.”
It’s only then that I become re-aware of myself. I cup one arm around my breasts, using my remaining hand to shield my privates. My eyes sting. Am I crying? I must be.
He holds his gun high, pointing at my head as he flicks his wrist, gesturing for me to move. “Come on, butterfly. Let’s try out thosepretty wings.”
7
