“You’re wondering whether I bring women back here?” he asks, his eyes twinkling. “You’d have seen them if I did, right?”
Holy fuck, is he suggesting I’d have seen them through his window? It’s a good point, but oh, my god. Dying. He continues while I contemplate stage diving through that window to get out of here.
“I try to avoid bringing anyone back here. It's not fair on the kids to meet anyone I’m not serious about.”
I flush. “I'm sorry. That was completely none of my business, and you really didn’t need to answer that.”
“It's okay,” he says with a shrug. He glances at me. “I know that there’s been some talk around town, about me. You being curious about all that is natural.”
I want to die. Is that his way of saying he was okay with me spying on him? God, he knows. I take a deep breath, close to passing out from hyperventilation. I need to get out of here, and I need to do it now.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. I feel embarrassed, ashamed, and all sorts of creepy.
“So,” he says, eyeing me curiously. “That was you the other night?”
I cringe. “Who did you think it was? My father?”
He grimaces and lets out a low laugh. “Not something I really want to think too hard about.”
I hesitate, my heart pounding. I know that I’m never going to get another chance like this, so I’m going to take it and do something that I’m probably going to regret.
“What do you want to think hard about?” I whisper.
“I think you’d better go before we both do something we regret,” he says, not meeting my eyes.
Shot down.
I make up some excuse and bolt from his house, relieved that the most embarrassing moment in my life is finally over. Now I must never speak to him again. Maybe I could track down my mother in London and go live with her. All just to avoid future awkward moments with Nick.I find solace in my bedroom, where I pace the floor in the dark, wishing I could figure out a way to fix this mess. I'm just about to climb into bed and go to sleep when I see his light click on. It's like an addiction by this stage, and I can’t help but peek.
Just like every other time, he walks over to the window. Only this time he stands there, deliberately staring directly into my room. My heart thumps as he slowly unbuttons his shirt and peels it from his muscular chest. Holy mother of God. I clasp my hands together, shaking like a leaf.
I have to sit down on the bed to stop myself collapsing. He stands in front of the window, semi-naked, his hands creeping down toward his belt. I can barely breathe as he unbuckles it, and then gently lowers his zip. He shrugs his pants down and kicks them aside.
I can't look away, and I don’t think he wants me to because I’m pretty sure this is all happening for my benefit. Just when I think things couldn't get any more surreal, he smiles directly at me. He smiled. My eyes widen. Can he see me? No. Of course, he can’t. He just assumes that I’m watching. I mean, he’s right, but still. I swallow the hard lump in my throat as he wraps his fingers around the band of his boxers and flings them down, then reaches over and turns out the light.
Holy shit, I think I’m going to pass out.
I somehow make it over to my bed, and fling myself on top of it. I lay there, my heart pumping, way too wound up to sleep. All I can think about is him standing there, wanting me to see him naked. He’s taken this game to whole new level. It’s one thing for me to be watching him, but for him to strip like that, knowing that I’m watching? I roll over. If he wants to play games, then fine. I can play games.
I smile to myself because he has no idea who he’s messing with.Chapter Six
NickWe’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse all week. She watches me, I acknowledge it, and we continue it the next night. But this time when I stand in front of my window, it’s different. I frown as I watch her, trying to put my finger on exactly what it is. She paces in front of her window and keeps glancing over at mine like she's waiting for me.
I flick on my lamp, so she knows that I'm there, and then watch her with interest. She stops when she notices the light, turning so she’s facing me. I swear she’s looking right at me as her fingers move up toward the top button on her shirt. I shift on the spot, my heart pounding. What is she doing—? And then it hits me.