Page 6 of Vows in Sin
He slips his phone from his pocket. Pauses, then glances up. Straight at the truck. Oh god. I flatten myself against the big tire. Did he see me? Can he see my feet? My heart palpitates.
I can’t look. I need to look. I peer over the bed of the truck at Sideburns. He’s staring down at his phone screen. He didn’t see me! Or did he? Is he texting another Bachman? Telling them he’s seen a poorly dressed woman hiding behind a monster truck?
“Yes! Bonus points!”
Wait, he’s playing a game? He’s using trash duty as an excuse for a quick round of whatever is on his phone screen. He swipes, congratulating himself on another win.
Then he turns his back on me.
This is my chance!
Running silently, I tiptoe along the pavement, the door mere feet away. A surge of adrenaline rushes through my bloodstream as I step over the threshold. I’m in!
Kinda. Facing forward is light and sound. The club must be straight ahead. Glancing down at my outfit, I opt for turning left, towards the open door to what looks like a storage room. The room is dark—the perfect place to hide out. Passing metalshelves of towels, soap, and cleaning supplies, I sneak to the darkest corner, press my back to the wall, and take a beat to catch my breath.
I bump my fist against the wall behind me. “I did it!”
My heart rate slows, the blood no longer whooshing in my eardrums.
The sound of the heavy back door closing echoes. I freeze, listening as footsteps and whistles grow near, stopping outside the partially open door of the room I’m in. I plaster myself to the wall, holding my breath. I squeeze my eyes shut.
If I can’t see him, he can’t see me?
The whistling moves on, growing fainter.
When I can finally breathe again, I exhale with a shaky whoosh. My fingers fumble as I undress, removing my hat and slipping the glasses inside, then wrapping the dress around the hat. Looking around for somewhere safe to store the getup, I tuck it onto a low shelf between two cardboard boxes, like that’ll somehow protect it.
I smooth down my short, shimmering silver dress and fluff my curls. With the costume gone, the pink high heels I wear are restored to glory. All set.
I’ll wait a few more minutes—just long enough to be sure no one’s coming back—then follow the music.
Hiding in the quiet of the shadows, my confidence builds. I take the silence as my time to move. My heels echo softly as I inch even closer to the door, heart thudding. Thoughts of the dancefloor, the lights, the music, and Dame push me forward.
I step into the better-lit hallway. The closed rear door is to my right, the faint beat of drums to my left, calling me to the dance floor. Finally, my chance! All the heartache, the pain of waiting for the texts that never came, the ugly dress.
It all leads to this.
Sideburns materializes out of nowhere.
“Oh!” I yelp, stumbling back a step. My heart lurches into my throat. For a terrifying second, I’m not entirely sure I haven’t peed myself a little.
He stands, staring at me, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Hello.”
“Hi?” I croak.
Think fast, Seraphina.
I plaster on a wide, clueless smile. “ThankGod! I’ve been wandering around for ages—I was searching for the bathroom and somehow ended up in a storeroom.” I let out a breathy, nervous laugh and gesture vaguely toward a hallway that absolutely doesn’t lead to any bathrooms. “Total maze back here.”
Ignoring my excuse, he demands, “Do you really think we leave the back open for randoms?”
“Back door? Who said anything about the back door?” I give a manic laugh. “No, no, obviously, I was in the club and got lost.”
He stands there, eyeing me, his smug smirk growing into a lethal grin.
He knows I came in the back door.
I realize what’s happening a few beats too late.
