“The red-haired girl.”
“Oh. Her.” His scrutiny of my face continues, and my cheeks heat up as I look back. “She’s gone.”
“I didn’t know anyone else lived here.”
I want to ask why nobody told me more than four people live here, but the edginess about Alek I haven’t figured out yet prevents me pushing the issue.
“She doesn’t. She’s visiting.” He steps back to let me off the step. “Move. I need to get to my room.”
His rudeness stuns me, and I’m pretty mad with myself when I comply. Alek stomps upstairs. Is he incapable of going anywhere quietly? His leather jacket scent lingers. Perhaps the way his smell burrowed into my mind is what desensitises me to his rudeness, because it adds to his attraction.
I shake my head at myself as I wander into the lounge. Edgy, hot guy in a leather jacket? Oh please, get a grip.
At that moment, I resolve he’s never going to get a chance to be rude to me again.
***
Third-floor living is annoying. The bathroom’s on the second floor, and the kitchen’s at the bottom. The house doesn’t have any heating apart from an ancient gas fire in the lounge, so most evenings we congregate there or in the kitchen.
I pad downstairs in my fluffy slippers with a towel wrapped around my wet hair; my bedroom is too cold to sit in after my shower. I mutter a triumphant ‘yes’ when there’s no one on the chair nearest the fire.
Low voices travel from the kitchen as I head down the hall to get a hot drink.
“She saw her.”
Alek’s voice arrests me; the fact he’s speaking quietly is enough to arouse interest.
“Definitely?” Lizzie.
“Yeah, didn’t describe her but must be who it was.” He pauses. “Why did you bring her here?”
“She needs help. You know that.”
“Yeah, apart from she’ll lead them straight to us, they know about her.”
“Yes, but they don’t know where she’s living so they don’t know where to look.”
“I don’t think it’ll take them long to figure out where she is, do you?” Alek’s voice rises with irritation.
Someone closes a microwave door, and the keypad beeps before the motor starts running. Are they talking about me? Which ‘her’ am I? The one people are looking for?
“You’re being unfair, you need to explain. I don’t think she knows, and I’m not going to tell her,” says Alek.
“Of course she knows; how else would she be able to understand why she’s alive?”
Either Alek can’t think of a response or his words are too quiet to hear. There’s silence for a minute until he says, “I still think you’re being unfair.”
A chair scrapes and I duck back round the corner as I catch sight of Alek leaving the kitchen. I jump onto the sofa and tuck my legs under me. A discarded magazine looks a perfect disguise, and I grab hold of it just as his tall figure reaches the room. My heart rate increases the heat in my face; heat at almost being discovered eavesdropping and at the awareness of Alek’s presence.
“Interesting reading?” he asks.
I register what I’m holding, one of Grace’s ‘New Scientist’. “Oh, yeah, there’s an interesting article on brain function.”
I expect him to laugh at me, but his face is set darkly. He leans against the doorframe, one elbow above his head and his grey T-shirt riding up, revealing a line of hair disappearing into his jeans. And the abs of someone who does more than walk up hills to get home at night.
“What do you study?” I ask.
“Nothing. I’m not a student.”
“Oh. Sorry, I just presumed. I guess you look a bit older.”
His mouth curls into a smile. “Yeah.”
Evidently, he’s not going to tell me what it is he does. Alek steps toward me and I freeze as he leans over me, arm outstretched. His face hovers close to mine, and I stare at his full mouth, holding my breath.
“You’re leaning on my jacket,” he whispers, eyes glinting at my reaction to him.
“Oh.”
I shift so he can pull the jacket from the arm of the chair and he takes it and shrugs it on, eyes fixed on mine. I swear he looks at my mouth, too, and a muscle twitches in his cheek. The eyes looking back to me are darker. The world swims as I attempt to disengage my senses from the overload happening. He smells so good; what would his mouth feel like on mine? An image of his rough kisses and my hands exploring those abs I just saw clouds my vision as readily as the fog normally does. My insides dissolve and heat spreads to inappropriate places as he continues to scrutinise me.
What the hell is this? I close my eyes, focusing on calming my rapid-fire heart.
“Bye, Casper; behave yourself,” Alek says in a low voice.
I open my eyes as I hear the front door close. Lizzie comes into the room with a plate of microwaved lasagne. Her mouth parts in surprise.
“Oh, I didn’t realise you were downstairs.”
“I only just came down here.”