Page 110 of Sin Like the Devil

Sighing, I rub the back of my neck as his stomping feet disappear. I just hope to God I haven’t painted an even bigger target on Ripley’s back by defending whatever the hell we are to each other.

When I feel my cheeks and nose starting to burn from sitting in the sun for too long, I know she’s far past late. Ripley isn’t coming. If she thinks she can scare me off with this hiding act, she’s in for a shock.

I didn’t want to resort to this.

But she’s left me no choice.

Moving slowly and deliberately is the first step to getting around when I’m not being escorted. I struggled to use my guide stick for a long time—terrified of walking face-first into an obstacle despite swinging it around.

Now that instinctual fear has faded. Collisions still happen, but I have a deeper sense of spatial awareness than most people. Even on the days I’m high as a kite or blissfully numbed. Survival instincts kick in.

Climbing the stairs is another matter. It takes precise concentration. Mentally measuring each incline, feeling for the perfect height to place my foot down. After a couple of months here, I’ve sussed it out.

Regardless, it still takes longer than I’d care to admit to reach the sixth floor. I have to count each time the staircase curves around another corner, taking me farther upward.

Dragging my spare hand down the corridor’s papered wall, I bear left and check every door. Metal numbers are screwed into each one, allowing me to fumble my way to my destination.

“Xan?” I rap on door thirty-seven.

It’s a long moment before he swings it open. “Lennox went looking for you.”

“Yeah, he found me. Listen, I need that favour.”

He’s silent for a moment. “What for?”

“I just want to borrow it quickly.”

I briefly worry that Xander has developed a conscience. But when he mutters for me to wait, I know he’s not going to ask any questions. I’m relieved to have at least one semi-uncomplicated friend.

Returning, Xander tugs my wrist then slaps the cool, plastic keycard into it. “Don’t get caught with that. It’s an all-access one.”

“How did you manage to steal it anyway?”

“Probably best that you don’t know.”

With that, he slams the door in my face. Ever the charmer. I slide the keycard into my back pocket and painstakingly make my way back down to the fifth floor, searching for room seventeen next.

I want to respect Ripley’s privacy, but what we just went through together is all kinds of fucked up. She must’ve gotten it in her head that it’s changed something between us. But I won’t let that stand.

With a cursory listen for any guards lingering nearby, I double check the metal numbers on her door before knocking twice. Tapping my foot, I wait. Then I knock again. When there’s still nothing, I pull out the keycard and scan it.

Her door clicks open with a buzz. Stepping inside feels like a gross violation, but I quickly crush the feeling. I don’t have time for ethics right now. Though I do call out her name.

“Ripley? It’s me.”

Silence.

“You in here? We need to talk.”

Not a single whisper.

I’m about to curse up a storm and step outside to formulate a new plan when I hear it. The faint sound of breathing floating from deeper in the bedroom. Tuning everything else out, I can smell the fruity richness of papaya lingering in the air beneath the scents of human hibernation.

She’s in here.

“Come on, Rip. You can’t hide forever.”

Her breathing changes—seizing on an inhale, like words are begging to be set free, but she’s biting her tongue. Stick extended and one hand out, I tentatively step farther into the unknown space.

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