Page 90 of Cross the Line
Clearing my throat, I lock my phone and slip it back into my pocket. ‘Just the drivers’ group chat. Thomas was saying stupid shit again.’
Oakley grunts in response, though I can’t tell if he believes my lie. Thankfully, we’re interrupted when Alisha bursts through the front door, struggling under the weight of what looks like fifty garment bags.
‘Any one of you fuckers want to help me?’ she huffs, glaring at us, then at the other guys sitting around.
‘Language,’ Mom snaps as she comes in the door behind Alisha, but her expectant gaze lands on me. ‘Well? Are you going to help or sit there like lumps?’
Oakley is the first to scramble up. He mumbles an apology to my mother and swoops in to help Alisha. I don’t miss the sidelong glance he gives her, lingering just a moment too long. He used to be more obvious about it, back when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. But I was.
He’s had a thing for my sister for ever, even if he’d never admit it, and I never pressed the issue. It wasn’t like Alisha was ever going to look his way. Being five years older than us and (unfortunately) cooler than we could ever dream of being, she was so out of his league they were playing different sports. Guess that’s why I just ignored it.
It gives me leverage when it comes to the Willow situation, though. He can’t blame me for falling for his sister when he obviously fell for mine. And here he is, still looking at her like that a week before her wedding . . . Yeah, I’ll use it for ammunition if I have to.
I just hope it won’t come to that.
——
By midnight, the house is quiet. The aunties have been a rowdy bunch the past few nights, staying up until two and three in the morning, but maybe they’ve finally gotten it out of their systems. Better for me. At least Willow won’t have to stay up half the night waiting.
After sneaking downstairs and through to the dark kitchen, I peek out the back door and across the yard. Lo and behold, Willow’s bedroom light is still on. The rest of the Williamses’ house is dark. Hopefully that means I won’t have any run-ins tonight.
With one last glance over my shoulder, I head out into the backyard. I slip around to the side and stick close to our shared fence, then dart onto their property. I’ve done this so many times, it’s like muscle memory. Except it’s only ever been to sneak in to play video games with Oakley past our curfews. Never to sneak in to (fingers crossed) do something less than wholesome with his sister.
Once I’ve made it to the Williamses’ house without setting off the motion-activated floodlight, I reach for the wisteria-covered trellis that stops just under the window of the upstairs hallway – the window I told Willow to leave unlocked for me. Now I’ve just got to hope she did.
I start my climb, putting one hand over the other and hooking my sneakers into the holes of the lattice that I swear have gotten significantly smaller since the last time I did this. Then again, the last time I did this, I was probably fifteen. Fuck, I’m too old for this shit.
Still, I make it up to the window without breaking a sweat and hold my breath as I shove up the glass pane. It moves without a sound.
I may be a little less than graceful as I slip through the opening and essentially somersault onto the soft carpet that, thankfully, dulls the volume of my impact. I’m in. And it looks like I’m in the clear since the lights are still out and no one is—
Oh,fuck. I’m not in the clear. I forgot all about one family member. The worst of them all.
I forgot about Herman.
The St Bernard is standing six feet away, head lowered, his eyes locked on me and his tail wagging slowly. I scramble to my feet and put my hands up so I can ward off the impending attack of slobber and kisses. The behemoth of a dog would never bite me, but when he gets excited, he getsloud.
‘Herman,’ I whisper, slowly stepping closer to the wall as his tail picks up speed. ‘You’re my boy.’ I inch along the carpet, Willow’s closed door in sight. ‘Do me a solid and don’t blow this for me, all right?’
The dog steps closer, the tail wag morphing into a full body wiggle. ‘Herman,’ I warn, still slowly sidestepping. ‘Herman.’
The gods must be looking out for me tonight because I get my hand wrapped around Willow’s doorknob just as Herman lurches for me, and I slip into her room a split second before his lolling tongue can find my leg. But I’m in and he’s out, and all is right in the world.
‘Dev? What are you doing?’
At the sound of Willow’s surprised question, I turn and press my back to the door. She looks too fucking cute in her messy bun and linen pyjamas, the blue fabric dotted with little lemons. The fruit choice and colour palette remind me of the Amalfi coast, so I make a mental note to take her there the next time I have a break.
Like I told her before: I’m rich. The world’s our oyster. And I’m taking her everywhere as soon as I can.
‘What am Idoing?’ I repeat, keeping my voice low and hoping Herman can’t hear me. If he gets any more excited, he may start barking. ‘I’m performing a grand romantic gesture by sneaking into your home at midnight and trying to avoid a make-out session that your dog isveryinsistent on having. I feel like that calls for a better greeting than “what are you doing?”’
Willow rolls her eyes, but she’s trying to tamp down a smile. ‘If you’re here to have sex, you might as well turn around. That’s absolutelynothappening with my brother and parents across the hall.’
‘Not what I came here for.’ It’s sort of what I came here for. ‘I really wanted to see you. And Ellie.’ I nod to the stuffed elephant still sitting on her bedside table. ‘I came to tuck you both in.’
The corners of her mouth flick up a little more. ‘How considerate.’
‘I wouldn’t climb up a trellis and risk being slobber-attacked by a dog for just anyone. Too dangerous.’
