She paused. “What friend?”
I held my phone up to Amber and she flashed me a peace sign. I took the picture and sent it to my mom. “Amber Wasserman, we’re in Chem together now. She said I can come over. I really don’t want to be alone.”
“Amber? I think I remember her. You’ll stay in the whole night?”
“Of course. We have a final coming up anyway.”
Another hesitation.
“Mom, you were the one that wanted me to make new friends.” Yeah, I learned how to guilt from the best.
“Okay.” There was really no other choice. “Be safe.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I disconnected, unable to keep the smile off my face. Amber crossed her arms over her chest. “Let me guess, we’re having a sleep over?”
“Well…”
“Okay, you’re telling your mom we’re having a sleepover but you’re really going to hang with the guys.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Is that okay?”
“Fine by me. I have plans with Benjamin tonight, but I do think we need to be smart about it just in case your stalkers are watching.”
I nodded, wondering when my life turned into a complicated episode of Mission: Impossible.
Amber looked across the parking lot, her eyes meeting with Ben’s. A slow smile formed on her lips. I was really starting to like this girl.
Chapter 23
Never underestimate an eighteen-year-old girl determined to see her boyfriends.
Benjamin happily agreed to divert Spencer and Mark’s attention off of me and Amber after school. I had no idea what he told them, but I for once I felt secure knowing no one was watching me.
Amber drove the long way to Oliver’s fancy neighborhood and dropped me around back. I didn’t knock on the Oliver’s apartment door. I knew he wasn’t home. All of the guys had sports practice in the afternoon but I was perfectly content waiting for them.
I found the spare key under the zombie gnome at the top of the stairs just like Oliver told me it would be. The door opened easily and I exhaled when it was securely relocked.
The apartment smelled like the boys. A mixture of their heady musk, cologne, and soap. A wave of happiness rolled over me just to be back in this place—their place.
Empty bags of chips sat on the coffee table. The video game controllers were left on the floor. A full set of weights sat on a rack near the back wall. No surprise that they worked out in here. Their bodies were beyond fit. I noticed a half-full bottle of water by the rack. They were adorable but messy as hell.
One difference was the open door to Oliver’s bedroom. Every time I’d been here it had been closed and I hadn’t been invited inside—not yet. Curious, I walked over and stood in the doorway. This room was neat, a sharp contrast to the living area. His bed was big—king-sized to fit his large frame. A few books sat in a stack on the bedside table, including the one we’re assigned for English. His favorite hoodie was flung over his desk chair. On the desk sat his school laptop. Oliver was notorious for leaving it at home. I ran a finger over the screen, wiping away the thin layer of dust. I had a feeling he used that computer mostly for late night chats and YouTube marathons. I turned around and saw my reflection in the large mirror hung over his dresser and I approached, noting the tidy line of bottles on the top. I picked up a bottle of aftershave and inhaled. Damn. It made my knees weak.
Pictures, ticket stubs, and notes were tucked into the edges of the mirror. Most were of him and the boys at various events over the years, showing Oliver and Jackson in dusty baseball
pants or Anderson smiling at a swim meet. There was a fantastic shot of Hayden flying through the air catching a soccer ball before it hit the net.
A different photo caught my eye, not a photo but a drawing, so real and life-like that I couldn’t help but pull it from the mirror. Bright eyes look back at me filled with the sparkle of laughter. Full lips, wavy hair. Hayden’s name is scribbled in the corner next to the title, “Number 5.”
“Impressive, right?” A voice shattered the silence.
I didn’t just jump at the sound of the voice, I screamed. I grabbed a bottle off the dresser and threw it at the door. Anderson’s eyes widened and he jumped out of the way. The bottle slammed against the door and hit the carpet.
“Anderson!” I shouted, my heart racing a million miles an hour. “What. The. Hell.”
It was a testimony of the panic I felt that I didn’t notice what he was wearing. Or rather, not wearing.