“What about the closet?”

“Stop freaking out. Why don’t you just tell him?”

The pounding stops. “Dude, do you have a girl in there with you?”

We hold our breath, and I wait patiently for Abe to confirm it. “No.”

My shoulders sag—this would have been the perfect opportunity to tell JB we’re dating. What’s the worst thing that could happen? They fight for a bit? Surely this isn’t that big a deal. JB didn’t even like me.

“This has gone on long enough. You said you were going to tell him. I knew we were going to hide out in here tonight, but you should see yourself.”

“It’s not my fault he’s an asshole.”

“It kind of is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You do his dirty work for him—of course he’s going to act like an asshole. He thinks he controls you.”

“That’s a low blow.”

This time, I get out of the bed and gather my clothes, pulling on my pants, bra, and shirt. “I’m not fighting about this.”

“I don’t want to fight about it either.”

“That’s why I’m leaving.” I walk to the window and unlatch it. “I refuse to argue about this.”

“I’m sorry about the window, babe. Let me get my sneakers and I’ll come with you.” He makes quick work of dressing, but when I turn, I hold my hand up in rebuke.

“Forget it. I’m going home—alone.”

“Why?”

“Because. Until you grow a pair of balls and tell JB you have a girlfriend, you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Skylar, come on.”

“No.”

“You’re overreacting.”

I toss my purse out into the dark, one leg half out the window, my hand gripping the encasement to steady myself. “And I think you’re underreacting.”

“It’s dark outside,” he futilely argues.

I couldn’t care less if it’s dark out. I. Am. Leaving.

“Yes. I can see that.”

“You shouldn’t walk home alone—it’s not safe.”

“Good thing I drove.”

I drop to the ground, hen-pecking in the semi-darkness for my purse, the glow spilling from Abe’s bedroom window my only guiding light.

“Skylar, don’t leave.”

His attempt to reel me back in is a fickle, weak one that makes my lips purse. I whip around to face his window, seeking out his silhouetted figure in the dark.

“If you think I’m hiding in your closet from that asshole, you’re out of your damn mind, and the fact that you would ask me to says more about you than it does about me.” I pull my purse strap over my shoulder. “Don’t call me until you care more about me than about what your roommate thinks.”

It kills me to walk away from that house to my car, but I do it, one step in front of the other, legs moving faster the closer I get to my vehicle.

I’m parked in front of the house so it’s not a long distance, but my heart is racing from adrenaline as I sit behind the wheel.

Abe

Don’t call me until you care more about me than about what your roommate thinks.

Shit, Skylar sounded pissed.

I glance out the window at her retreating figure then back at my door, JB’s fist connecting with the wood once more. Jesus, what’s his damn problem?

I stalk across the room and give the door a good yank.

“There better be a goddamn emergency.”

Actually I hope there isn’t, because I’d probably have to be the one to deal with it.

“What took you so long to open this fuckin’ thing?” He shoves his way through, glancing around the room. “I thought I heard two voices—you hiding someone in here?”

“No.”

“I swear I heard a chick.”

“Nope.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare. “What the hell do you want? It’s almost one in the morning.”

JB flops down on the edge of my bed then reclines the rest of the way until his head hits my mattress. “I was bored.”

He smells like stale beer, marijuana, and a few bad decisions.

“You were pounding on my door because you were bored? Seriously dude, what the fuck.” Not cool. He caused a fight between me and Skylar, and she probably won’t see me until I’ve told JB to piss off.

I really wish I could.

It would save me a lot of trouble in the long run, even if it causes fucking drama today.

“Where were you tonight? I thought maybe you’d come out.”

“Nope.”

He rolls to his stomach, feet hanging off my bed. Stinking up my clean comforter and fresh sheets. Well…they were fresh before I screwed my girlfriend in them.

“You’re turning into a fucking pill.”

“Get off my bed.”

“I can’t move my legs.”

I nudge him with my knee. “I used that excuse when I was five.”

“Can you get me some food?” He raises his head, propping his chin up with two hands. “Why are there two indents on the pillows?”

He’s drunk and high and talking stupid, and he’s going to notice that shit?

“You’re drunk.”

“You said you didn’t have a girl here.”

“I didn’t.”

He’s back on his back, raising himself into a sitting position. “I’ve fucked enough chicks to know a head dent when I see one, bro. Why are you lying?”

I have no rational reply for that. “You’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk.”

“Whatever.” I bend at the waist, retrieving my shirt from the ground and pulling it on over my bare chest. A gray thong drops from its folds and lands back on the floor.

JB homes in on it.

“Is that underwear?”

I feign ignorance. “Is what underwear?”

“That thong on the floor.”

I scoop it up and shove it in my pocket.

“You fucking liar.” He stands. “Let me see.”

I wave him off. “I’m not showing you the underwear.”

“I don’t even believe this—you were banging some chick in here and won’t tell me. Was she a barker? Is that why you’re hiding her?” He walks to the closet, pulling the doors open. “Where is she hiding?”

Out the window, in her car, and back to her apartment—that’s where she’s hiding.

I don’t know who to blame for this fuck-up, myself or JB.

I watch as he checks out the closet, feeling around for a body. Dips to peer under the bed.

“Why would I be hiding a girl in my room? We’re not in high school anymore and this isn’t my mom’s house.”

“I don’t know why you’d be hiding a girl, but you are. Where the fuck is she?”

My lips tighten as my brain mentally weighs the pros and cons of being honest. “Gone.”

“Gone? How?”

Simultaneously, our eyes stray to the window.

“Shut the hell up, she did not go out the window.”

I shrug.

“Dude, what is she, MacGyver? What’d you fucking do to her?”