“Top?”
“I'm sorry, Daniel… It's so late. I should not have called —”
“— what kind of top?”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “The top that I was wearing to the, um, bake sale.”
There's silence on the line. I can easily imagine his face, that cloud cover that disguises the raging storm behind his calm exterior.
“Did you lock the doors?”
“Yes, all of them.”
I wait, breathing slowly and deeply. Just hearing his voice makes me feel a little better.
“Kita, I’m going to ask you to do something that is going to sound a little strange. Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“I want you to sleep in my bed.”
I don't say anything. My heart sort of flops in my chest.
“There is a keypad behind my bedroom door. Can you go to it now, please? Take whatever you need with you.”
I grab my books from the kitchen counter and dash upstairs, holding the phone to my cheek. Closing Daniel’s door behind me I stand in his room, staring at the glowing keypad I hadn’t noticed was there.
“Okay, what's next?”
“All right, that's good. Just close the door and key in 66528. Then enter.”
I thumb the number pad. As soon as I press the enter key I hear a mechanical scraping behind the door.
“All right,” I confirm. “That's done.”
“Excellent,” I hear him sigh. The sound of his relief is obvious. “You can stay there until I get home in the morning, all right? The keypad engages titanium barrel locks in the door. Perfectly safe, I promise.”
“Really? Okay.”
I turn around, still holding the phone to my ear and look around his room. In the dark, it seems much different than it did earlier today when I was just snooping around like a little kid.
“Kita?” he asks me in a gentler voice. “Everything's fine, I promise you. Lizzie's just created a situation she's not sure how to manage. She is desperate and lashing out. I have plans for her, don't worry.”
“You have plans for her? What does that mean?”
I can almost hear him scowl on the other end of the line.
“Really, it is not something you need to worry about. The main thing is just to make sure you feel safe. Do you feel safe?” I look around for a few more seconds. Being here, surrounded by his things and his scent, hearing the cool confidence in his voice on the other end of the phone, I do feel safe.
Knowing the door is bolted behind me and probably couldn't even let a whole fraternity worth of lacrosse players through doesn't hurt either.
“Yes, I do feel safe. Thank you.”
“You can sleep in my bed,” he says carefully. The words clang around in my head.
“I'm sorry, what?” I say, and realize I just want to hear him say it again.
“Kita,” he says slowly, his voice a demanding growl in my ear, “I want you to sleep in my bed. Can you do that?”