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I grinned wide, knowing that I was looking like a dork.
I didn’t care. Everything was perfect right now with Candy in my arms as she created music that brought us to new heights of ecstasy.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I was exhausted. It was almost one in the morning now, and I was using up the rest of my energy to get back home. When I finished up, all the boys had pulled me into a hug, telling me how proud of me they were and how much fun they had.
Even now, I still felt the five of them against me. Their heat. Their scent. Their sweat. Excitement. Happiness. It all blended together into something heady that made me feel like I was flying fast and high. Like I was free.
It took forever for us to part in the parking lot, too busy talking, too energized to head home. It was only when Paxon’s dad called him that they realized they needed to get back home.
I sang along to the radio as I turned onto my road. I was tired, but I was pumping adrenaline through me. My heart hadn’t slowed down since I stepped up onto that stage. Each beat hit my palm as I held my hand over my heart, feeling it. Tonight had been amazing, and no words would ever be enough to describe how light I felt since deciding to show them a piece of myself.
After I finished DJing, I’d ended up stopping at a twenty-four hour convenience store on the way home and bought hotdogs, eating them in my car. I had been starving.
Now I was full and exhausted, definitely ready to get into my bed and get at least some sleep before it was time to get up and go to school.
The lights in my house were off, and I silently cursed myself for forgetting to leave a light on. I stumbled over one of the porch steps and had to use my phone light so that I could unlock my door. That was a silly thing I hadn’t considered. Porch lights. As soon as I went inside, I flicked on lights in the foyer, letting it calm me down. There was always something about the dark that made me feel hunted. Even now, knowing no one was here, the back of my neck still prickled in awareness, as if I was being watched.
“Paranoid,” I admonished myself. I threw away the wrappings of my dinner in the kitchen. The foyer light filtered through, giving me enough guidance to grab a water bottle from the fridge. Once I was done, I turned the light back off and booked it up to the second floor and to my bedroom. But I didn’t make it far.
I froze halfway up the stairs, something stopping me. My heart pounded hard for a different reason. Was I being paranoid? Were my instincts being ridiculous again? I strained to hear what had set me off the first time.
There. A creak.
What the hell?
Keeping my steps light, I went to the second floor and tried to listen again.
Was I being too paranoid? Was this what living alone did to people? Maybe it was only the house. I’d just moved in. I wasn’t used to the sounds the house made yet.
I hunkered down, almost kneeling on the floor as I stared down into the dark abyss of the stairs. It was too dark, shadows all over. It was a cloudy night so the moon offered no help through the windows.
It felt like at any moment, a monster was going to rise from the darkness and swallow me whole.
Then I heard again. A footstep, the floorboards creaking.
My eyes widened, fear washing over me. The air in my lungs solidified, making it impossible to breathe as I tried to process reality.
Shit.
Someone was in my house.
I crouched all the way down, hoping it made me a smaller, more unnoticeable target, glad that I hadn’t gone around flipping on lights. I knew this house better than anyone else. Maybe that’d put the darkness in my favor.
Slowly my eyes were adjusting to the dark and that was the only reason I saw it. A shadow at the bottom of the stairs. I stilled, trying to stay quiet, going so far as to hold my breath, but that seemed to only put more strain on my heart.
If they weren’t going to hear my breathing, they’d definitely hear the frantic pounding of my heart.
The shadow was large, no doubt my imagination adding to it. The person was tall, broad shouldered, and by the way they blended in with the surroundings, wearing black clothing, or really dark ones at least.
A burglary?
Maybe they thought I was out for the night and decided to come in. My house was one of the bigger ones, and if they were good at their job, they’d quickly find out that only one person lived here. A silly teenager incapable of handling them.
Was he already in the house when I came home? Why didn’t he leave, knowing someone was home now? Didn’t thieves run off if they were at risk of being caught? Or did he want to be in the house when I was?
That last thought made it feel like I was being slammed into a wall.
