He points to the door that’s on the opposite end of the building from where Mrs. Conrad is sitting. The blinds covering the single window that overlooks the courtyard are bent and tangled, and I wonder if they’ve been like that for a while, or if they got damaged from the fight Ash got in with this Don guy.
“Why don’t we sneak in by going this way?” I gesture with my hand that we should go right instead of straight. “Go around this building and come out the other side.”
He smiles, his eyes lighting up, and in this moment he looks so young, despite all the fresh damage on his face. “Brilliant idea, Callahan. I knew there was a reason I brought you with me.”
The only reason he brought me was to use my car, but I don’t mention that. I may as well bask in his kind words while I can.
We sneak around the apartment building closest to us and come out the other side, right in front of his door. He holds me back with one arm braced across my stomach, and his casual touch sends butterflies fluttering in my belly. “Stay here,” he whispers, and I do as he says, remaining as still as he is until finally, with a single nod, he gives us the signal we can go. “Run.”
I follow after him, impressed with his speed, though I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve seen him run on the football field; when there’s no one to throw to, he just runs the ball in himself. He’s already got the key in the lock when I stop just behind him, and then we’re inside, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, my nose wrinkling as the smell hits me.
It looks like a bomb went off inside the living room. There’s a stack of empty pizza boxes on the battered coffee table, accompanied by various beer cans, some of them toppled over. It smelled like rotten food and dirty laundry in here, like it hasn’t been cleaned in God knows how long, and I chance a look at Ash, but he’s not even paying attention to me.
He heads down the short hall and opens a door, muttering something under his breath as he pushes his way inside. “Fucker went through my stuff!” he yells.
Looking for the drugs Ash mentioned to me? Probably.
I follow after him, stopping in the doorway of his bedroom. It’s a mess, there’s stuff everywhere, and it looks like every drawer of his dresser was pulled out and dumped. All of his clothes are on the floor, and there’s a small stack of shirts still on the hangers thrown on top of his unmade bed. It doesn’t smell as bad in here. In fact, I can smell traces of his soap or cologne lingering in the air.
“Do you need any help?”
He grabs a duffel bag from the top shelf of his closet and tosses it onto the bed, unzipping it. “Just watch for anyone approaching the front door while I get my stuff.”
I freeze, fear slipping down my spine with icy-cold fingers. “I don’t know what your mom or her boyfriend look like.”
“That doesn’t matter. Just keep watch for anyone coming to the front door, okay?” He sends me a look, one that says don’t argue with me, so I do as he says and go back out into the living room.
I stand at the very window I stared at only a few minutes ago, peeking through the bent blinds every few minutes. Mostly I take in the damage that’s been done in both this room and the kitchen, which is where the worst smell of all is coming from. The sink is piled with dirty dishes, most of them covered with dried, crusted food. The small counters are covered with more beer cans, to-go coffee cups and lots and lots of crumbs. It’s like the people who live here just don’t care.
And that makes me sad. Sadder than I’ve ever felt for Ash, and that’s saying a lot, considering how bad I felt for him when I first saw his face.
This is the environment he lives in. Has grown up in. His father died, I don’t know when, and his mother doesn’t seem to care much about anything, if her house is an indication.
Ash emerges from his bedroom to walk into the bathroom directly across the hall. “Give me a few more minutes. Almost ready.”
I glance out the window again but see no one. Just the kids playing in the courtyard. The old woman is still sitting in front of her place. The buildings are rundown, and they look like they could use a fresh coat of paint. This is the poorer section of town, a section I don’t visit much, if ever, and I realize why.
This place is depressing. Almost…scary. Our town is small, but we have our fair share of crime and homelessness. Ava did a report on the local homeless problem last year for one of her final eighth grade projects, and she even sent it in to the county supervisors’ office, but she never heard back from them. She had some decent solutions too.
“Okay.” Ash approaches me, and I can tell he’s actually thrown on more clothes too. He’s layered up, wearing a thick school hoodie and a pair of fleece joggers. He’s going to be hot when he gets outside. “You ready?”
I nod. “No one’s out there except for your one neighbor still.”
He brushes past me and peeks through the blinds, staring at her for a while. “She probably saw us sneak in here already.”
“You think so?” What if she called Ash’s mom and her boyfriend? What if one of them is on their way over right now?
Or worse, what if she called the cops?
“She might tell Mom. Or Don. For all I know, she already has.” He turns to look at me, and I know I must seem totally freaked out. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”
We leave, Ash not bothering to lock the door behind him. We run behind the building, toward the street, and when we’re sliding into my car only a few minutes later, both of us are breathless, Ash clutching his side and chuckling. “You did good, Callahan.”
I warm under his compliment, even though it’s the stupidest one ever. “I did nothing, if we’re being honest.”
“You helped. You got me here, remember?” He tosses his stuffed duffel bag into the backseat of my car, then tugs the hoodie off, wincing when he pulls it over his head. “Thanks for bringing me.”
His tone has gone terribly serious. I glance over at him to find he’s already watching me, his dark eyes fixed on my face. “You’re welcome.”
“Means a lot.” He swallows hard. “That you helped.”
“It’s fine.”
Ash reaches for his hips and starts shoving the fleece joggers off, practically taking his shorts with them. I catch a glimpse of flat stomach, a dark trail of hair from beneath his navel that leads into the waistband of his gray boxer briefs, and I know I’m openly staring.
I also don’t really care.
“Like what you see?” The amusement in his raspy voice is unmistakable.
Glancing up, I catch him smiling at me. My cheeks are red, I can feel how hot they are, but I’m so tired of denying my attraction to him. “Yes,” I admit, surprised at my bold admission.
He parts his lips, ready to say something else, and I lean toward him in anticipation. But then a car on the road catches his attention and his eyes go wide. “Oh shit. Duck!”
Ash tugs my arm and we both go down, hovering below the dash, our breathing harsh. A car goes driving by—I can hear its overly loud motor—and then it’s gone.
“You get up first. He won’t know you.” Ash actually sounds…
Scared.
I lift my head and peek around, but there’s no cars on the road, no asshole coming for my car, shaking his fist. I push the button and start the engine, then pull away from the curb, desperate to create as much distance as possible from this place.
Ash settles into the seat and tugs the seatbelt on, which surprises me, even though I watched him put it on earlier when we drove over here. He seems the sort to ride without one defiantly, saying, “When my time comes, God will take me no matter what. What’s the point of wearing one of these?”
“Safety first,” he says when he catches me staring. He clicks the belt into place and smiles at me. “That was a close one.”
“Who was it?” His attitude is baffling. I can’t help but wonder if this is all some big game to him.
“Don. The asshole who beat me up.” He shakes his head. “I bet old Mrs. Conrad told him I was here.”
Then it definitely was a close one. Fear ripples in the pit of my stomach and I clutch the steering wheel, the reality of what just happened starting to dawn. “What we just did was so dangerous.”