Her gaze flicks to me. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” I sign, then open the door and slip out into the stairwell.

I trot down the flight of stairs to the second floor and push open the door to my apartment. Luke and Violet, my roommates, are cooking what smells like pasta; steam is flowing from the kitchen, and pots and pans cover the counters.

“Hey, you’re just in time for dinner,” Violet says from near the stove. She lifts the lid of a pan and peers inside. “Can I just say how great this smells?”

Luke opens the fridge door and grabs a soda. “Subtle way to compliment your cooking.”

I envy their time together, but not because I have a thing for Violet. I just want to be free in life for once, to hang out without constantly looking over my shoulder or cringing every time my phone vibrates. I want to be able to curl up on the couch with Emery and watch a movie instead of staring at each other from across the room with distrust.

After kissing Violet again, Luke turns to me and pops the tab on the soda. “We’re going to a concert after dinner if you want to hang out. There’s no fancy bands or anything, just a little garage rock, but it could be fun.”

Even though I’d give my left arm to go, I can’t leave Emery for the night. I shake my head as I cross the living room, walking backwards. “I have to work on an assignment with Emery. I just came to get my stereo.”

Violet twists around and gives me a knowing look. Neither of them are aware that I’m an informant for the police. They think I live in Laramie to attend the University of Wyoming—that I came here to get a new start. To them, Emery is the strikingly beautiful girl who lives upstairs and has stolen my heart over the course of a month. What I would give for them to know my reality.

Want.

Want.

Want.

Please, just let me be free.

“You two sure have been spending a lot of time together,” Violet remarks, collecting a spoon from the drawer.

“We’re just friends.” I squeeze past the two of them to get to the fridge and grab two beers, even though Emery isn’t a big drinker. Honestly, with how stressed I am, I could drink both myself.

“That’s what I used to say about Luke all the time.” Violet flashes me a smirk. “And look how that turned out for me. Now I’m stuck with him.” She winks at Luke who counters with a playful slap on her ass.

I shove the beers into the back pockets of my jeans then sign, “And that’s my cue to leave.”

I collect my record player from my room and a few of my favorite records and then head back into the living room with my arms full.

Luke and Violet are cuddling on the sofa with plates of spaghetti and watching TV.

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Violet asks as I maneuver the door open with one hand. “It’ll be a lot of fun.”

Part of me craves to sit down with them, be the third wheel and go to the concert, just enjoy the goddamn night for once. But Doc would flip if he found out I left Emery’s place too early, and honestly, I hate leaving her alone, not when someone has been sending her notes that could be interpreted as threats.

Shaking my head, I exit our apartment and climb the stairs to the third floor. When I make it back to Emery’s place, she’s moved from the stool to the sofa. She’s still writing, her pen moving a million miles a minute as she stains the paper with ink.

When I shut the door, her head whips up. “Oh, my word, I didn’t even hear you come in.” Her eyes zone in on the record player in my arms, and for a fleeting instant, she perks up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You brought music?”

I nod, setting the player and records down on the coffee table. “I brought music and,” I reach around to grab the two beers from my back pockets and put them down next to the record player, “drinks.”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, staring at the beers. “What do you plan on doing tonight?” Her voice is off-pitch, nervous, and her eyes are attentive. “Because it looks like you have more than homework planned.”

I select a record and line it up on the player. “I have nothing else planned. I just thought this might help us relax a little.”

Her attention zeroes in on me, and her brows elevate. “Did my father put you up to this? Did he tell you to try to get me to warm up to you so I’d trust you?”

I shake my head. “Your father has nothing to do with this.” I position the needle in line with the record and twist on the power. “In fact, I’m not sure he’d appreciate me giving you beer and letting you listen to my music... I don’t think he’s a fan of punk rock.”

“No, probably not. He likes old-school stuff, but never let my brother or me listen to it.” Emery focuses on the player as the record spins, and “The Curse of Curves” by Cute Is What We Aim For flows through the speakers. She shuts her eyes and inhales deeply before opening her eyelids again. “I like this.” She grabs one of the beers, pops the top, and slumps back in the sofa. “It’s different… I like different.”

“I know you do,” I sign, dying to reach forward and press my lips to hers as I watch her mouth wrap around the top of the bottle.

She takes a swig, her face twisting from the taste. Silence encases us as our gazes fasten and smolder with heat. Finally, she tears her eyes away from mine and fixes her attention onto the beer bottle. She tips her head back and takes another long swallow before setting the bottle between her legs. “I don’t want to work on the assignment anymore.”