To check on her. Make sure she’s safe.
It’s the chant I keep repeating in my head when I park down the road from her driveway just after eleven PM. It’s the mantra I keep telling myself as I hike up the paved walkway leading from the sidewalk to the front door.
Exactly three days since I dropped her off here, and I just need to see if she’s okay. It’s not like I can text her or call her. I never got her number.
So here I am, like a stalker, walking up to a sorority house on a weeknight.
My boots make a hollow sound on the pavement as I walk, and I’m alert. Listening. Watching.
I’m paranoid now when I’m on the Harley. If I think any vehicle is behind me for a suspicious amount of time, I just cut off another car and shoot up a side street. I don’t think I was followed here, but the last thing I want to do is bring trouble into Naima’s backyard. I just need to make sure she’s safe.
The moon slices a path through the darkness. I stare up at it as I drift forward. As I stop in front of the house, the spotlight and lanterns join the glow from the moonlight, and I stop mid-step.
What am I about to do? Ring the doorbell? Pretty sure a stranger standing on their doorstep after dark might freak the sorority girls out. Shimmy up a damn drainpipe? Climb a rose trellis? Each cliché makes me grin. Staring up at the massive house, a snort escapes me, and I shake my head. I don’t even know which window is hers.
From my vantage point hidden among a clump of manicured bushes underneath a billowing live oak, I contemplate. I stare at every window and try to picture Naima behind it. Most of the downstairs windows, at least on the front of the house, are dark. Most of the girls must be asleep. My gaze moves up to the second floor, and I’m drawn toward the one window with a faint light burning. From this point, I can tell that the curtains are black, the light filtering in through the inky gauze, creating a really awesome effect.
That’s her. That’s her room.
The certainty I have about it surprises me. It’s just a feeling I have. I know that this room belongs to Naima, without a doubt. I’m drawn forward, my feet crunching beneath me as I take a step and freeze. Glancing down, a slow grin crosses my face. Bending at the waist, I pick up a few of the white pebbles and rub them together in my palms.
I’m seriously about to throw rocks at someone’s window in the middle of the night.
I step out from the bushes, but still feel the canopy of the live oak shadowing me, keeping me hidden from the direct glare of the moonlight and the beams of the nearest spotlight. Taking aim, I let the pebbles fly.
They connect with the lit window, and I hold my breath while I wait.
Nothing.
I bite my lip in grim determination. Okay…let’s try this again, Rapunzel.
I let another handful of pebbles fly, each one making a distinct ping as they connect with the window.
And then I pump my fist into the air with a silent “Yes!”
Because I’m not already lame enough right now.
The black gauzy fabric in the window shifts, flutters. Everything inside of me tightens, clenches, knotting up with anticipation. When Naima’s flawless face appears at the window, I’m floored.
Relief slams into me at the same time attraction does.
She’s gorgeous. She’s safe. And she’s close again. So damn close I can almost touch her.
There’s a flash of recognition and something I can’t pinpoint in her expression and she goes for the latch on the window, lifting the panes up and out.
Leaning her elbows on the sill, her lips twist into a sexy smile.
God. Why does that smile make me want to do stupid shit? Like climb up a trellis at a sorority house on a college campus? This girl is beyond dangerous.
“Did you really just throw rocks at my window?” Her little smirk widens to a full-fledged grin and my chest tightens. “Hold on…I think I’m supposed to throw down a rope made of my hair or something. Oh, wait…”
Her throaty chuckle washes over me, and I step out from under the oak tree’s branches because I can’t help but get closer.
“Hey.” I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “You never gave me your number, so I had to get creative.”
She props her face in one hand and frowns. “You never asked for my number.”
Our voices rise above the nighttime sounds, and I don’t want to wake anyone else in her house. “Get down here, angel.”
She pretends to think about it. “I don’t know…strange guy showing up at my house in the middle of the night? Probably shouldn’t be alone with him.”
She smiles like she’s got all the time in the world, like she holds all the cards.
And she does. But I don’t have to let her know that.
Shrugging, I brush my hands off and turn away. I head for the walkway. Biting my tongue so I don’t laugh.
“Wait! Ace!”
My name from her mouth is all it takes for me to turn around. I lift a brow, cock my head to one side.
Naima holds up one finger, giving me a serious glance, before she disappears from her window.
I’m pacing the ground beneath the live oak when the front door opens. Naima appears, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Smirking, I wait underneath the tree, watching her walk toward me. She’s wearing black leggings. I’m so damn jealous of those leggings. They cling to her long legs, disappearing into the black Ugg boots she wears. The long gray shirt she has on also clings to her curves, and no woman should be allowed to look that sexy without even trying.
At the Ring, I see different women every single night. All various ages, all
