16. Taylor
Taylor
A high-pitched chime jerks me awake. For a few disoriented seconds, I have no idea where I am. The room is dark except for faint moonlight filtering through the window, where I glimpse the now-familiar pine tree. I close my eyes, settling back into bed.
Then my phone rings again.
Groaning, I reach across the nightstand and squint at the screen. Celeste. My brows furrow. One glance at the time triggers a dip in my stomach. She never calls this late.
“CC?”
“Taylor!”
Her upbeat voice makes me sink against the pillow with relief. There’s nothing wrong, thank God. “You know it’s the middle of the night, right?”
“I know.”
“So why are you calling me?”
A dramatic sigh comes through the speaker. “Because I need a favor.”
Of course she does. I rub my eyes, a yawn escaping. “What kind of favor?”
“The security code for your apartment.”
“What?”
“The security code.”
I sit up; the frown returning. “Why do you want it?”
There is a brief pause, then she mutters, “Malik.”
“CC...”
“My parents are in town for the week,” she explains. “I don’t want to risk sneaking him into my apartment. And you already know I can’t go to his house.”
Secretly dating a guy who lives with his parents is such a Celeste thing to do. “Well, you can’t use my mine as a meeting place.”
“Why not? You’re not even there.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It kind of is.”
I shift myself up against the headboard. The city feels far away right now, but somehow Celeste has still managed to drag me into one of her schemes. “When was the last time you saw him?” I ask.
“The day before you left,” she replies.
A little over two weeks ago. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Eighteen days, Taylor. Four hundred and thirty-two hours, twenty-five thousand minutes and counting—“
“Okay, I get it. Jeez.”
“I miss him.”
Her wounded voice smothers my annoyance. I know how much she cares for him, and I hate what she’s going through. But my gut feeling tells me this might be a terrible idea. “CC—“
“Please.” Her tone softens, pleading. “We just want a few hours together.”
“There’s surveillance all over the building,” I remind her. “The last thing you’d want is to be caught on camera with the guy you’ve been sneaking around with.”
“I’ve already thought about that. Malik has several baseball caps, and I’ve got a few wigs. Trust me, we’ll be careful.”
I stare into the darkness. Something about this doesn’t sit right with me. Maybe it’s because sneaking around has once blown up in my face, or simply because every time Celeste says she’ll be careful, trouble usually follows. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Taylor.” She drags my name out pathetically. “Please.”
My willpower fades.
“Pretty please?”
“You’re impossible,” I grumble.
“I know.”
Another sigh escapes. “When will you be going?” I ask.
“Friday night,” she replies in an eager rush.
“And you’ll leave everything exactly how you find it?”
Celeste snorts. “Of course, Taylor. You know me.”
“No broken furniture.”
She giggles mischievously. “Now, that I can’t promise.”
“Good to know. Goodbye.”
“Kidding! Jeez, lighten up.”
An uneasy feeling still lingers, growing stronger. Still, I rattle off the four-digit code.
Celeste squeals. “Thank you!”
“If this comes back to haunt me—“
“It won’t. I love you, mean it!”
She hangs up before I can say another word.
I stare at the dark screen for a moment, then rest the phone on the nightstand.
I lie back down and try to relax, but after a few minutes, I realize sleep won’t return anytime soon.
My throat feels parched. With a resigned sigh, I throw aside the blanket.
Crossing the cold, wooden floor, I step into the corridor.
Then I stop.
Farther down the hall, someone emerges from Jude’s bedroom.
It’s not Jude.
He eases the door shut with obvious care, making sure it doesn’t click too loudly. The gesture alone is strange enough, but his appearance captures my attention. His dark hair looks disheveled, and he’s only wearing a pair of boxers. His expression is relaxed in a way I’ve never seen.
The realization hits me so suddenly that I almost forget to breathe.
Roman glances up, staring in my direction. For one frozen moment, neither of us moves. His jaw clenches. He looks me up and down. Without a word, he turns and heads down the hallway toward his room. A moment later, his door closes softly behind him.
And for some reason, I’m not thirsty anymore.