Page 53 of A Lot to Unpack
My only hope is the adjoining door. I unlocked my side earlier, just in case. But reaching it from here? I’d have to cross the room, and he would definitely spot me, crawling out from under his bed, like something from a horror movie.
The bed creaks again as he stands up.
I watch his feet as he walks to the desk. I hold my breath. Did I leave anything out of place? Anything that he might spot? Shit, I definitely moved that folder a bit. Maybe he won’t notice? There’s no way he can tell I touched it, right?
He turns and walks across the room again, eventually going into the bathroom, but he doesn’t close the door. Well, why would he? He thinks he’s in here alone, obviously.
If his bathroom has the same layout as mine – which, why wouldn’t it? – then everything in there is around a corner. Which means if I’m quick – and I’m talking lightning fast – I might be able to make it to the adjoining door, but I have to decide if I’m going for it right now.
Well, what else am I going to do?
I launch myself from under the bed, half-crawling, half-sprinting across the carpet, probably looking like some kind of demon. I practically dive at the adjoining door, fingers fumbling over the little lock. It won’t turn, it won’t bloody turn – but then then it clicks. I fling the door open, slip through, slam it shut behind me, but maybe a bit too much force because it makes a bang.
Shit. Please tell me he didn’t hear that.
I lock it on my side and back away like I’m inThe Shiningand my crazy husband is on the other side of it.
I pull the contract out of my trousers and push it under my bed, then I stare at the door, wondering if he noticed, waiting to see if I got away with it.
I swear, I actually start relaxing, but then I notice the handle moving, like he’s trying to open it.
‘Liberty?’ Jordan’s voice, muffled but clear enough to hear, travels through the door. ‘Liberty, are you there?’
Oh crap.
‘Yes?’ I call back, trying to sound cool and casual, but I practically squeak the word out.
‘Did you just open this door?’ he asks.
‘What? No,’ I reply.
‘I could’ve sworn I heard a door,’ he says. ‘And it’s unlocked on my side now. I definitely locked it.’
‘Weird,’ I say, cringing. ‘No, it wasn’t me. I was… washing my hair. I was in the shower.’
There’s a pause.
‘Oh, okay. Can you open the door for a minute?’ he replies.
Oh, for God’s sake, no, I bloody can’t, because if I do then he’ll see that I’m bone dry. Unless…
‘One sec,’ I call out.
I bolt into my bathroom, fling off my clothes, and dunk my head under the cold tap. It’s freezing and it’s getting in my eyes, my nose, my mouth – I need to look wet though.
Then I throw on a robe and get back to the adjoining door. I unlock it, open it, and hope that nothing seems off.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, his brow furrowed.
‘Yeah, fine,’ I say, breathless. ‘Why?’
‘You look…’ His voice trails off, like he’s not quite sure what he’s looking at.
I glance at the mirror next to the door. The water has made my eye makeup run all over my face. I look like a raccoon that’s joined a metal band.
‘Oh,’ I say simply. ‘I forgot to take my makeup off before I showered.’
He’s still staring but he’s smiling a little now too.
