Delilah was suddenly certain that he wasn’t home, that he wouldn’t have gone back without first making sure she was okay. So when the grandfather clock in the living room struck midnight, Delilah pulled on a skirt and a plain top, opened her bedroom window and climbed out, gripping the rain gutter with her uninjured hand. She slid one leg over the ledge and then took a deep breath before pushing herself from the window, holding her body close to the pipe. Almost immediately, she lost her grip, sliding violently to the ground and landing so hard the wind was propelled from her lungs in a heavy cough. That was truly the last thing she needed tonight: to return to Urgent Care for a broken arm she’d obtained while trying to sneak out to see the boy her parents assumed was beating her.
Her head reverberated with the impact of the fall; her limbs felt heavy and slow under the diminishing effects of the Percocet. On the lawn she paused, looking around as the cold seeped into the sleeves of her shirt and covered her skin, like the air itself was trying to tell her this was a bad idea.
Once again, the trees leaned in close, and the sky seemed to vanish into black. But this time Delilah looked up at the branches high above and hissed, “Touch me again and you’ll lose him forever. Maybe you’ve lost him already.”
? ? ?
Delilah wasn’t sure how Gavin had learned to break in, but he was exactly where she’d expected he would be, closed in the dark practice room in the trailers behind the school, hunched over a piano. He looked up when she opened the door, eyes wide and full of wild relief. “I’m sorry I left,” he blurted. “I wanted to stay, but—”
“I know,” she said, cutting him off. “My dad was terrible to you, wasn’t he?”
Gavin ran a long, wide-knuckled hand down his face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Got some drugs and bandages and I’m all set.”
He nodded, letting his eyes move over every one of her features as if convincing himself that the only injury she’d sustained was on her arm.
“Hey, listen,” Delilah said, taking a step closer. “I need you to do something for me.”
He looked up to her, eyes pleading. “Anything.”
Delilah held up the small pile of clothes she’d taken from his locker. “I need you to put these on,” she said, placing them on top of the piano.
Gavin blinked at her. “You want me to put my gym clothes on?”
“You trust me, right?”
Without a word, Gavin stood and began pulling off his T-shirt. Delilah motioned for him to hold on and searched inside the teacher’s cupboard, coming back with an open garbage sack.
“In here, okay?”
Gavin dropped his shirt inside the bag and reached for his belt, his eyes flickering up to hers, brows lifted as if to say you going to watch? When she met his stare with a determined one of her own, he smiled and continued undressing.
He was down to his underwear, thumbs tucked into the elastic when he looked at her again.
“All of it,” she said.
Gavin had wanted to get naked with her, but again, this wasn’t exactly how or when he’d thought it would happen.
But Delilah wasn’t quite as brave as she looked, because when he slipped his boxers down his legs and stood, dropping them in the bag before reaching for his clean clothes, her eyes were averted and her cheeks were definitely pinker than when she’d come in. He had never been undressed like this in front of someone else—not even close—even though he’d thought about it quite a lot. Gavin liked being naked in front of Delilah. He liked how pretty she was when she blushed and how even though she seemed to be doing everything she could to not look, he thought he saw her peek, maybe just once.
“Delilah Blue,” he said, smug as he watched her walk away. “Are you blushing?”
“Hush,” she called over her shoulder, opening the door just enough to throw the tied bag outside, and quickly shut it again.
The air in the music room was cool on his skin, and Gavin quickly pulled his shorts up his legs. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?” he said.
Delilah crossed the room to stand in front of him. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Is that even possible anymore?” he asked, shrugging into his clean shirt.
“You told me before that whatever’s making the house. . . what it is, can attach itself to something before it’s taken off the property. Like the way it used to with the tricycle or things it would leave for you to take if you had a big exam or needed some comfort?”
“Right,” he murmured.