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Anon13: Night.
My mouth was painfully dry, and I craved water like it was my last breath. I pulled myself out of bed, wrapping my sweat-drenched hair in a high, messy bun, and headed to the kitchen.
A dim light was on, and Lucas was leaning against the counter with an oven mitt on. His eyes darkened as they traveled up my legs, thighs, and chest to my face. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and we stood in silence for several moments before he cleared his throat. “What are you doing awake?”
“Water,” I croaked, unsure if it was because my throat was dry or that he was shirtless, wearing only low-slung basketball shorts. I swallowed hard and approached him with caution, taking care not to touch him when I reached around to grab a glass.
I filled it from the tap and took several gulping sips. “I answered you. Why are you up?”
A timer dinged on the oven, and his lips tipped up. “Got hungry.”
Of course he did. He probably had to eat like twelve times a day. He opened the oven door, and the sweet smell of blueberry muffins took over my senses. He tipped the tray over onto a plate, and my stomach rumbled. I’d skipped dinner because my stomach felt uneasy after the fair. Lucas’s smile grew, and he held them out to me. “Take one.”
I reached for one, but he pulled it back. “Careful, they’re hot.”
“Yeah, I got that since you just pulled them out of the oven.” I reached for one again, and this time, he didn’t pull it away. I took extra care to hold it gently while blowing on the top. “So you midnight bake often?” I asked, not looking up from the muffin.
He huffed out a breath. “First time.”
“Lucky me.” I took a bite, and the sweet taste of berries flooded my mouth, drawing a low moan from my throat.
His gaze traced my mouth, and he leaned closer until I could feel the heat of his chest against mine before he lowered his head to my ear. “Something like that.”
I choked on my bite, and Lucas backed away, filling my glass before handing it to me. “Good night, Killer.”
He walked to his room, closing the door behind him. My mouth was bone-dry, and I took a sip of my drink, surprise registering at the sweet taste of vanilla almond milk. The open carton sat beside the baking tray. I bit my bottom lip and fought against the warmth growing in my chest. It wasn’t until after I finished my muffin that I realized he didn’t have one.
EIGHTEEN
PIPER
I climbedout of bed and headed toward the kitchen, eager to get my hands on a coffee, but nearly tripped over a bag placed right outside my door. I lifted the bag and spotted my running shoes, which were hidden behind it. Huh, I could use a run after everything.
The bag was full of my clothes, folded in neat piles. I pulled one out, expecting it to smell like smoke, but instead, it had the distinct scent of laundry detergent.
Warmth filled my chest, knowing whoever left this had stayed up late washing my things. My phone beeped, drawing my attention.
Misty: Do you want the good news or the bad news?
Me: Good news.
Misty: Dammit. I was hoping you wouldn’t pick that.
Me: Why.
Misty: There’s not really any good news. It was just something to say.
A smile cracks my lips at her antics.
Me: Okay. What’s the bad news?
Misty: Bad news. I got a hold of the dorm administration office and the smoke damage is pretty bad. I guess it’s going to take a few weeks to get it all sorted.
Me: No.
Misty: Yes.
I squeezed my lids tight and took a deep breath. It was totally fine. I just needed to speak with Shana and get the hell out of here.
