shivered, the thin blanket over me doing nothing to stop the chill that seemed to reach all the way to my bones. Everything was just so damn quiet, and with nothing to distract my mind, all I could think about was him.
I grabbed for my phone and shoved my ear buds in, scrolling through my playlist until I found a soft song by Sam Hunt. I put it on repeat, hoping his smooth voice would lull me to sleep. The music soothed my mind, but I was still cold.
I sighed and pulled out my headphones, then got out of bed and headed to the linen closet, which was on the other side of the apartment. I knew Nessa wouldn’t mind if I borrowed one of her blankets, but I still felt weird about taking one, and I made a mental note to text her tomorrow morning and let her know.
I was back in bed and about to put my headphones back in when I heard the knob on the front door rattling.
“Nessa?” I called. “I borrowed one of your blankets, I hope that’s okay.”
I was hoping she would call out to me, that she would invite me out to the kitchen to talk while she made me grilled cheese with tomato on rye, her specialty. If she did, I would confess everything to her. Everything that had happened. I didn’t care about the stupid contract I signed, the one saying I would never speak of Callum again or whatever other crap he thought could get me to agree to. What was he going to do, sue me? Ha! Good luck getting anything. I barely had two hundred dollars in my checking account.
I would swear Nessa to secrecy, and if she told someone who told someone well, then, that was the price Callum would have to pay. There were always consequences to your actions, and maybe rumors of his sexual proclivities were going to be his consequences for how he’d treated me.
“Nessa?” I called again.
But there was no answer.
I could hear heavy footsteps in the hallway, moving toward my bedroom, masculine footsteps, and I sat up, the first whisper of fear and nervousness creeping up my spine.
A shadow fell over the doorway, and then there he was.
Callum.
Standing in my bedroom.
I was so shocked and surprised that I didn’t even have time to be scared.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted, and even though I hated him, even though I’d told him to leave me alone, I felt my body flood with warmth and desire, and my heart began beating like a kick drum in my chest.
“You didn’t answer the door.”
I must not have heard him knocking since I had my ear buds on. “So you just broke in?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. That door is no security at all, Adriana.” He shook his head. “I’ll have it replaced tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Your door. I’ll have someone replace it tomorrow. You can’t live in a place with a door like that.” He moved further into the room, and I noticed he was wearing his own ear buds – they were dangling around his neck. He pulled them off and set them down on my nightstand, along with his phone. He was wearing a pair of black track pants and a long-sleeved dark red t-shirt. His hair was damp, like he’d just taken a shower, but stubble darkened his cheeks, and his hair was messy.
“Get out,” I said, clutching the blankets to me. “I’ll call the police.”
But he didn’t listen.
He didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard what I said. Instead, he kicked off the shiny black sneakers he was wearing, then picked up the blanket and slid into bed with me. His body was warm, and he slid so close I could feel the heat radiating off of him through his thin t-shirt.
“Do you know,” he said, and his hands found my waist, pulled me toward him until our pelvises were pressed together, “how far I’ve run today, Lemon?”
“What?” I asked, confused. “How far you’ve run?”
“Twenty-six miles,” he said. “Practically a full marathon. Do you know how hard it is to run twenty-six miles in Manhattan, Lemon?”
I shook my head. I had no idea what he was talking about, but his voice was soft
Learning to Kill: Stories