Page 48 of Petals and Plot Twists
I punch my pillow and roll over so I’m facing the back of Sophie’s couch. It reallyisa comfortable couch. I should be sleeping like a baby. But my thoughts are my biggest enemy, and I cannot figure out how to turn them off.
I could just be honest with her. Ishouldjust be honest with her.
I shift again, rolling onto my back and stare into the darkness. Maybe if I intentionally try to keep my eyes open, a little self-imposed reverse psychology, I’ll start to feel tired.
I’m almost convinced it’s working, but then a crash sounds outside, and I sit up, heart pounding as I lean toward the window, straining my ears to hear whatever is on the other side of the glass.
“Peter!” Sophie whisper yells from her room. “Did you hear that?”
I stand and slowly creep through the kitchen and down the hall to Sophie’s bedroom.
“Hey,” I say from the doorway. “You okay?”
Even with the nightlight in the corner of Sophie’s room, the room is too heavily shadowed for me to make out her face. I can only see the shape of her sitting up in the center of her bed.
“I’m okay,” she says, her voice shaky, “but I think I heard something scratching at the glass.”
I move across her room, stopping in front of her window. Sophie has curtains instead of blinds, and they’re currently drawn, so I slowly pull one to the side to peek into the alley on the other side of the glass.
“Don’t!” Sophie says, startling me enough that I drop the curtain, and it falls back into place. “They’ll see you!”
“Who’sthey?” I whisper back.
“Whoever is trying to get in my window.”
“It’s probably just the possums Archer dealt with,” I say as I reach for the curtains a second time. But then I hear the noise again, and it definitely sounds more human than possum.
I lean toward the window. Footsteps, a grunt, a low rumble of laughter. More footsteps. Then the sound of a window sliding up on its rickety frame.
Sophie lets out a gasp. “Was that in my apartment? Please tell me it isn’t my apartment.”
“All your windows are locked,” I say, something I’m sure about because I checked them before I went to sleep. I even came in here and checked the ones in Sophie’s room while she was in the shower.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” I say. “I checked them myself.” I peek around the curtain one more time, but from this angle, I can’t see anything but the empty alleyway.
“Stay here, okay?” I say to Sophie. “I’m going to check through the living room windows.”
“Okay, but come straight back,” Sophie says, her voice sounding smaller than I’ve ever heard it before.
The living room is darker than Sophie’s bedroom, so it’s actually easier to see more outside. Someoneisthere, but it’s not anyone we need to be afraid of. I unlock Sophie’s window and slide it up, the old wood sticking in multiple places.
“Hey! Reggie,” I call once the window is open enough for me to lean through. “What are you doing out here, man?”
Reggie, a college-aged guy who lives directly next door to Sophie, turns and looks at me. “Peter? Is that you?”
“Yeah. It’s me. You know it’s one in the morning, right?”
“Dude, I’m so happy to see you,” he says, like he didn’t even hear my complaint about the late hour. “I’m locked out of the building, and I lost my key. I’m pretty sure I left my window open, but I couldn’t figure out which one was mine.” He points. “That one is Sophie’s?”
I breathe out a sigh. “Yeah. Which means the one right in front of you is yours.”
He leans toward the window and hoists it a little further up.
“Sweet,” Reggie says. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.” He’s halfway through his window when he leans back out, one leg inside and one leg out, and says, “Should we have a conversation about what you’re doing at Sophie’s in the middle of the night? Shirtless?”
“We should not, Reggie,” I say, and the younger man chuckles.
