Page 170 of Sinful Like Us
I roast head-to-toe and force my feet to back up.Go to the door. I’m a voyeur here, and I don’t particularly loveseeinga family member hot and heavy. “I’m so, so,sosorry.” I ramble out more deep apologies, and I reanimate more and lift my clipboard to my face.
Perfect.
I can’t see them.
I do my best to tune out their private conversation too, but I pick up a bit of the exchange.
“Are you okay?” Farrow whispers. “Wolf scout, hey, look at me.”
“Are you alright?” Maximoff replies with total concern. “You’re okay?”
Finally, I spin around and reach the door, and I’ve never been happier to clasp a knob. I tug and—oh God.
It breaks off the wood. Dislodging right from the door.
I gape wide-eyed at the brass knob in my hand. “No.”
No, no, no.
Frantic, I try to open the door without the knob, but it’s jammed into the frame. I rattle the wood, realizing that Farrow most likelydidlock it earlier. But the door is old and worn and revolting on us all.
“Come on,” I say in distress, my pulse reeling. I pound a fist on the wood. “BANKS! Banks!”Please save me from embarrassment. Merci beaucoup.
Footsteps sound.
My archangel. He’s arrived.
“Jane,what’s wrong?” Shadows flit beneath the door. He must be right outside the room. “Talk to me, honey.”
Shock has my tongue, but I breathe out. “I accidentally walked in on Maximoff and Farrow, and I’m trying to leave and the knob broke, and now I’m trapped in this room.”
“Hold on. I’ll get you out of there.” He works on wedging open the door from his side.
My panic begins to recede. I think of the time I saw Donnelly giving Luna head, and I wince. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”
“Again?” Farrow repeats, coming up beside me to check the door. His barbell piercing ratchets up with his brows.
Thank God he’s dressed. Drawstring pants hang low on his waist, inked sparrows in view on his hips.
I’m so discombobulated about this entire situation that I don’t even realize what I said or what he’s questioning. Not until he asks, “Isn’t this the only time you’ve walked in on us?” He combs back his sweaty platinum hair.
Oh.
Oh.
“Yes,” I emphasize. “Yes. I’ve prided myself onneverseeing you two…like that. And now that streak has ended.” My entire face radiates heat.
I glance over at Moffy.
He’s in gray sweatpants, and he pulls a Harvard shirt over his head. He looks as mortified as me, but neither of us shies away—and I try to make light of the awkward run-in.
“You looked very comfortable,” I note. “And very pleased by what Farrow was doing, which is to say that you must really trust him…” I’m on fire.
Maximoff smiles a little bit.
Possibly I haven’t made this worse.
I nod repeatedly. “I’m so,sosorry.” It wells up inside of me.
