Page 132 of Study Buddies

I scrambled after him, heart pounding, afraid he’d hit his head.

But he was already sitting up, brushing his hands off and looking dazed. “Get inside,” he told me.

I didn’t move. I offered him my hand, my heart still pounding erratically in my chest.

He took my hand, his grip strong, and used his other hand to push himself up. When he finally stood, he was soaked and covered in mulch, mud, and bits of leaves.

But all that mattered was getting inside.

We made it through the door, shoving it closed behind us with effort. When it finally latched, I leaned back against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

The storm howled outside, muffled now, locked out behind thick walls.

“Are you okay?” I asked, turning toward him.

“Yeah, I think so. So.” He looked down at himself and let out a breath.

“Did you hit your head?” I took a step closer, eyes scanning for anything more serious.

“I’m fine, Tori. You’re soaked to the bone, and I’m soaked to the bone and covered in mulch and mud. It’s not that different.”

A laugh bubbled up in my throat. I started to let it out, then bit it back with a smirk. “You look like a Wookiee.”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth pulling into a crooked grin. “It happens. We should get downstairs.”

“Yeah. You need to get cleaned off.”

“Not that—well, notjustthat. But also the tornado watch.”

“I’ve never heard of one this time of year.” I grabbed a towel from the hall closet and handed it to him.

“Me either. But look how fast that storm rose.” He ran the towel over his face. “I don’t particularly trust it. I feel better downstairs—with both of us downstairs, I mean.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Let me wring out my book bag and change, and I’ll meet you down there.”

I’d stayed in Lucas’s room last night, so I went in there and located my warm sweatshirt. I flipped the light switch without thinking and then shook my head when nothing happened.

Right. The power was out.

Good thing there was a window—though the storm didn’t let much light through. I changed into dry clothes, grabbed a couple bottles of water from the dark fridge, and headed downstairs with the flashlight on my phone lit.

Jayden was in the makeshift bedroom. His shirt was off, and there were twigs and leaves in his hair. Poor guy.

Now was not the time to appreciate how he looked with his shirt off… even though I otherwise definitely would have.

“Do you know if there are any flashlights? Real ones? Or candles?” I asked, glancing toward the dark side of the basement.

He gestured vaguely toward the cluttered corner. “Probably something in that pile, if we look long enough.”

He raked a hand through his hair, dislodging a few soggy leaves onto the floor.

“I’d love a shower,” he muttered, “but it’s pitch black in there.”

“But you’ve got the light from your phone—and you could take mine, too.” I crossed the room, handing it over. “You look kind of cold. And disheveled. Not sure I’ve ever used that word to describe someone before, but it kind of fits.”

He laughed, taking the phone. “I have to admit, a warm shower sounds pretty good at the moment.”

“But the power’s out,” I reminded him gently.

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