“Why? What’s the rush?”
“Folks are coming home.” He picks his clothes off the ground, struggling to stuff wet legs into completely dry jeans.
Wow, this was a dumb plan.
He finally wins the battle against his pants, beckoning to help him move the hot tub cover back into place. I do just that and sweep my top and leggings off the grass. He must see the hesitation in my eyes as I glance at my clothes because he blurts, “No time. Come on!”
He bands a hand around my wrist, speed walking toward the gate. His touch sends shivers throughout my entire body. Okay. High is not a good look on me.
“What the hell is going on? Why are you acting like your parents are going to kick you out of your house?”
Will stops dead, flashes me his million-dollar smile over his shoulder, and says, “Who said it was mine?”
My jaw drops.
“What?” I shriek, but I know I won’t be getting an answer. Because he starts running. Allow me to revise—we start running, Will’s grip on my wrist leaving me no choice but to follow.
“Are you out of your fucking mind? This is breaking and entering. Whose house is this?”
My heart is beating double time.
He’s laughing so hard it’s hard to make out what he’s saying. “Alex’s. He had shit to do today, and I lent him my car. His parents were out tonight, and since he owed me a favor, I asked him if we could use his hot tub. He said he’d call when they were on their way. I thought we’d be gone by now.”
Alex’s.
Of course. His parents just moved, which explains why I didn’t recognize their place. Will probably texted him when we left the party to collect that favor. So much for their epic bromance.
“How long do we have before they get here?”
“Ten seconds tops.”
Ten.
We reach the car.
Nine.
Will squeezes his keys out of his wet jeans pocket and wrestles with the lock.
Eight.
He manages to yank the door open.
Seven.
I’m about to go to the other side, but he stops me, motioning to get in through his door.
Six.
I do.
Five.
We both scramble inside.
Four.
Will fires up the engine.