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So when the person on the other side doesn’t say anything, I figure it’s him.
Then he startles me, slamming his hand against the door once before dragging his fingers down the wood the same way he did the night he broke into my house and trapped me in my bedroom.
“Let me in,” he says lowly.
Not a chance.
Since my light is off and it’s late, he can just assume I’m sleeping.
If he wanted to talk to me, he has had all evening to reach out. Instead, he waits until it’s late and expects me to just let him sneak into my room like everything is fine.
He waits outside the door for a while, but eventually, he gets the message and walks away.
A small part of me is relieved, but a larger part is disappointed. I’m not playing with him. I’m not running right now because I want him to chase me. But whether I wanted him to or not has never played a very big role in Landon’s decision to come after me. He talked a big game about being unstoppable, then at the first sign of conflict, he took his ball and went home.
Maybe I should have known better than to believe him.
His years of meaningless hookups with random girls may have taught him to be great in bed, but they haven’t done shit to show him how to be a good boyfriend…
Or whatever the hell he is to me.
Maybe it was naïve to think that, for me, he would learn.
___
Sleep is elusive tonight, but that’s no surprise.
I can’t stop listening for noise in the hall, inventing excuses to leave my bedroom that I know I’ll never use. My pride won’t let me. Still, I waste time coming up with them.
My senses are confused when I hear what sounds like a door sliding open, but that’s impossible. My bedroom door doesn’t slide, and it’s locked, and—
I emerge from my comforter cocoon just enough to peek and reassure myself it’s only my imagination, but I nearly scream when I see a man entering my room via the sliding door that opens out to my balcony.
My heart rate ramps up and I quickly sit upright, watching as the man gently closes the door.
His back is to me, but I’d recognize the back of that head anywhere.
“Landon, what the hell are you doing in here?”
Chapter Forty-One
Parker
Landon turns around to look at me. All my lights are off, but he’s still illuminated by the moonlight spilling in through my windows. My gaze rakes over him, taking stock. His mussed dark hair, the way his gray sleeveless shirt—an old one with the school logo on it, from when he was on the football team—hangs off his strong frame. It’s the outfit he threw on earlier after we went for a swim, and it looks damn good on him, but I don’t want him to come any closer.
I don’t want to risk smelling her on him.
“Stop,” I say, unsure what to do. If I throw back the blanket and stand, he can grab me more easily, push me around and kiss me, even if I don’t want him to.
Of course, if I stay in bed, he could just join me—again, whether I want him to or not.
I decide to stand. He watches wordlessly as I peel back the blanket and climb off the bed.
I don’t move any closer since I want to keep space between us. I cross my arms in a subtle gesture of self-protection, then I stare at him. “How the hell did you get in my room?”
He gestures back at the sliding door. “Balcony. You didn’t lock the door.”
Eyes widening, I say, “No, I didn’t lockthatdoor. I’m on the top floor of the fucking house and I wasn’t trying to keep out Spiderman. How did you get on my balcony?”
