Infatuation

I knew more about her for never having spoken to her. We didn't need to. Because the way she looked at me sometimes, that said it all. She wanted me. She didn't mind that I'd stop by her apartment late, or that I'd watch her sleep, buried under her gray blanket, while the stars strung around her room blinked on and off to the rhythm of her breathing.

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35. Adam

The phone in my pocket buzzed, again and again. All day and night, it seemed.

Until I picked it up.

"Adam?"

I sat up, the mattress creaking under me. I knew that voice. But why? Why would she be calling me?

"Avery, what are you doing?"

She was hesitant before saying, "I want to help you. Tell me where you are. Please."

I hung up.

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