Page 46 of Catch the Sun

Tap, tap.

My eyes fly open and I’m met with darkness. Scrambling for my cell phone charging beside me, I see that it’s a little after 10:00 p.m. I must’ve fallen asleep after my succulent feast of pea soup and year-old saltines. Yawning, I rub my eye sockets with the heels of both palms.

Then I hear it again.

Tap, tap, tap.

I glance over at my cracked window. A light breeze shimmies through, causing my peach drapes to dance with foreboding. Goose bumps prickle my skin, even though I’m sure it’s nothing but an active tree branch. I’ve always been that “It’s just the wind” type of person, where Jonah was more prone to worry and alarm—especially when it came to me.

I slither from my bedcovers and climb off the mattress, reaching for my lava lamp as I yank the cord from the wall and stomp over to my window with bare feet and a bleary-eyed scowl. I’m tired and sweat-soaked, and I’m either about to concuss an intruder with a vintage lighting fixture, or I’m going to give an unsuspecting tree branch a very bad night. Either way, I’m swinging.

Storming forward with little regard for self-preservation, I whip open the curtain and lift my arm to strike.

Max peers back at me through the glass pane, arms crossed.

Stare amused.

Eyebrows arched, visible even through the black of night.

“What the hell?” I bark at him, though I don’t lower my arm. I haven’t decided if I’m smacking him or not.

He circles a finger in the air, signaling for me to open the window wider.

No.

I’m absolutely not doing that.

“Max,” I whisper-hiss. “Go home.”

The window is partway open because it’s prone to sticking, so he crouches down so I can hear him better. “Can I come in?”

“Does it look like you can come in?” I wave the lava lamp around with menace, adorned in my avocado onesie complete with a hood that features a stem and a leaf on top, which admittedly kind of cancels out the menace. “I’m sick and probably dying. Please leave.”

“Aren’t you curious why I’m here?”

“No. Bye.”

“Are you going to turn me into guacamole?”

My eyes narrow with disdain. “Do not mock my avocado pajamas or I’ll cough on you.”

“Pneumonia is not contagious,” he counters.

I glare at him because it’s my only defense.I knew that.

He doesn’t look like he’s preparing to leave, so I finally drop my arm, my shoulders slumping with defeat. Fine. I guess I’m a little curious why he’s here. Setting down the night-light, I bend over and widen the screenless window enough for him to climb through.

He grins victoriously as one long leg slides in, followed by the other.

This is weird.

There’s a boy crawling through my window in the middle of the night while I reek of fever sweat and pea soup.

However, he did save my life, so I school my face into something less scathing. “There are doors for knocking. There are phones for calling and texting.”

With both black-booted feet firmly planted on my beige carpet, Max straightens in front of me, his lips still stretched into a smirk. “There are also windows for climbing through when it’s too late to knock and when I don’t have your phone number for calling or texting.” He crosses his arms and tilts his head, expression softening. “How are you feeling?”

He’s standing far too close. He’s tall and smothering, and he smells clean and earthy, just like he did when he carried me home from the lake. Even my congested nostrils aren’t immune to his appealing man-smells. Swallowing, I dart my gaze away. “I’m fine. Doing better.”

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