Page 16 of The Favorites
“Wait.” Heath gripped my hand even tighter. “I thought we’d be sharing a room.”
Josie laughed—then fell silent when she realized he was serious. “Boys aren’t allowed in the girls’ dormitory.”
I hadn’t given much thought to our sleeping arrangements, beyond gritting my teeth when I read the exorbitant room and board fee. I wasn’t keen on being separated from Heath either.
But it was only temporary, and we’d still be together all day, every day in training. Besides, it wasn’t like we had any other options; no landlord in their right mind would sign a lease with a pair of cash-strapped sixteen-year-olds.
“It’s fine.” I glanced at Heath, silently pleading with him not to make a scene.
The dormitories were on the second level: boys in the north building, girls in the south. I followed Josie to the stairwell, while Heath reluctantly trailed after Ellis. Josie took the steps two at a time, then stood on the landing toying with her gold cross necklace while I dragged my suitcase over the stair treads.
“Wake-up is at five forty-five,” she told me as I struggled to keep up with her quick pace down the corridor. “Breakfast at six. Training starts at seven.”
The Academy’s housing seemed more like a luxury resort than an athletic training center. We each had our own private rooms, and the shared bathrooms boasted steam showers, plush linens, and a Sephora’s worth of beauty products generously provided by Sheila’s brand partners.
“All free for everyone to use,” Josie informed me with a pointed sniff. “In case you want to…freshen up.”
It was abundantly clear she thought I didn’t deserve to be there. As if her opinion mattered. The only gold Josephine Hayworth would ever wear around her neck was that gaudy cross her rich daddy had bought her.
Soon enough I’d show her—and everyone else—exactlywhat I deserved.
Chapter 12
Our first night in California, I was more exhausted than I’d ever been before in my life.
And I couldn’t fall asleep.
It wasn’t only Heath’s absence that kept me up. The dorm rooms were well-appointed, but they were also stark, modern boxes, all blinding white walls and sharp angles. Even with my eyes closed, the space felt too bright.
I tossed and turned for hours, tangling the Egyptian cotton sheets—also pure white—around my legs. Los Angeles sounded different too: the call of car horns on the freeway, the constant drone of the air-conditioning, the distant yelps of what I would later learn were coyotes roaming the city’s canyons.
So I was already on edge when, sometime after midnight, a sudden tapping at the window startled me right out of bed.
From outside my window—mysecond-floorwindow—Heath smiled and waved.
“Let me in,” he whispered.
I tugged the sash open. Heath was balanced on the sill, his grip on a slender drainpipe the only thing between him and a bone-crushing fall to the concrete below.
“What are youdoing? If someone catches you here—”
“You want me to leave?” Heath gave me a mischievous grin and let go with one hand. My heart lurched into my throat.
“Not that way! Get in here before you break your neck.”
He scaled the windowsill, landing softly in the narrow space between the twin bed and the minimalist white dresser. I shut the window against the sultry night air and drew the shade.
“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I couldn’t fall asleep.”
“Me either.”
He wound his arms around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. I melted into him, and we stumbled back until my legs hit the edge of the mattress.
“If you’re going to stay,” I said, “we have to sleep.”
He kissed my neck and slid his hand under the waistband of my pajama pants.
