Page 43 of Before Now

“You know we wouldn’t really fuck her,” Dev says, equally amused. “Unless she begged, of course.”

“Not even if she hits her knees for you.”

I sweep my palm over the dusty banister to expose the designs etched into the wood before climbing the stairs. The dick and fake hick start their hunt with a yeehaw, and when I look, Colt’s watching me, arms crossed. I flip him off for whatever he’s thinking. His thoughts often earn him the finger, so I’m hedging my bets.

The shadows swallow me on the landing. The lights are off everywhere but the entry, and from what I’ve seen, a lot of busted bulbs are exposed. I consider going to the third floor, but a faint scuff of shoes above decides for me.

Even halfway to drunk, I have no desire to play Felix and Dev’s game tonight. Colt needs to so he’s less whiny. Here’s to him finding the pair that scampered up here.

I break out the flashlight on my phone once the downstairs light runs out. The hallway’s narrow given the monstrosity of a house. Far from a dump, even if it shows signs of neglect. The place deserves better than an excavator and condos erected on its grave. A lot of shit does, though.

Partway down, I catch movement inside a room without a door and pause. The brunette firefighter in a shiny skirt smiles as she steps out from behind an armoire, likely left because of its size. She tucks her hands behind her, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“God, I suck at hiding.” She laughs, aiming for self-deprecating, I’m guessing, but expectation flares in her eyes and smile. Like a sign blinks above me—step right up to fuck the rock star.

“Try harder.” I stroll away and push through the door at the end of the hall before she thinks I mean try harder withme.

The hinges shockingly stay quiet, both opening and closing. I spin to shine the light around the bathroom. Dirty and cracked tile lines the bottom half of the dirtier walls, a pink toilet matches the mounted sink.

My attention snags on the sliding glass panels of the also pink tub. One closed and the other slid open. Considering my options, I weigh the grime-to-unwanted-attention ratio, and then I step over the side. Once I drop in, I wrench the glass door toward me. It grinds to a halt with a few inches to go. I sigh and let my head rest on the wall behind me, tapping off the flashlight.

Everything falls silent. No road noise or demands or the voice warning every second’s fleeting. All the things I haven’t been able to escape for months cease to exist. The only sound is my breath. I can’t remember the last time I heard myself breathing. Something so simple. I missed it.

Slowly, snippets from the world find their way into my porcelain cocoon. Footsteps creak the floorboards above, a high-pitched squeal. Easy to ignore until the bathroom door eases open. I smother a groan, not in the mood to be rejecting these chicks all night. I want a few minutes of Foster before giving everyone Adams again.

But when I roll my head to the side, my face illuminates at the same time I see Remi’s. She’s so goddamn gorgeous, her hair in a clip, strands framing her face. She must not notice me in her rush for the tub, forcing the opposite glass door down the track. My lips twitch even before she freezes and jerks her head in my direction.

“Shit,” she exhales.

Her attention switches to the door and the heavy footfalls coming down the corridor. I stay with my head tipped back and watch her struggle over the choice presented.

I’m an asshole for enjoying the panicked glances between me and the unknown. I’m fucking hopeless for my smile when she crawls into the tub in her chunky black boots.

I move a leg, bringing up my knee more to shift my own boot. She lowers beside the other. Metal scrapes metal as she drags the door into place, and she winces at the harsh noise. The glass on that one has more scratches. It’s hazy and nearly opaque.

She kills the light a few seconds ahead of the door swinging inward.

Colt halts, staring at the broken mirror above the sink, then he rotates with his own phone’s flashlight and blinds me.

“I have so many jokes about you being washed up,” he says.

Remi’s sunk down at the other end, trying to hide. I wonder if she realizes she’s latched onto my leg. Resisting the urge to look at her, I nod at Colt.

“Can I top?” I ask him. “That was the point, right? Find me and fuck me?”

He snorts and shoulders the door shut. “Even if I bottomed, I’d still top you from down there.”

My buddy saunters to the toilet and unzips. The grip tightens on my shin as his stream hits the dry bowl, and I lick my lips to suppress a smile. She has her eyes scrunched closed, knees tucked to the side in her attempts to blend into the shadows.

Once finished, Colt starts to reach for the handle before thinking it through. No water. Instead, he considerately closes the lid. While rotating for the door, his light sweeps over the glass, but he catches the doorknob, not mentioning the hunched form across from me.

Then he looks over. “Enjoy your bath, motherfucker.”

He zeros in on Remi’s exact location, a smirk forming on his way out. The latch clicks and plunges the room to black. The near silence returns, only this time with two sets of breaths.

Remi sighs, relaxing her grip even though the hand stays. I pick up my phone to turn on the light, and my eyes land on hers.

“Come here often?”

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