Page 24 of Habits

The gray of her irises is lighter than ever before. Open and vulnerable. Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp of surprise as we stare at each other through the large, floor-to-ceiling window.

I’m not sure how long we stay like that—it could be seconds, it could be days—before she gently lowers the instrument and puts it back in the box that’s been sitting on the couch behind her.

My Adam’s apple bobbles as I swallow down my nervousness. I’m not even sure why I’m nervous. It’s not like I did anything wrong. But the way she acts, the way she moves, it tells me all I need to know.

I’m in some deep shit.

As soon as the instrument is out of her hands, she turns around and comes straight at me.

* * *

Jeanette

I’m fuming with rage so hot, I’m surprised I don’t burn everything that’s in my path.

Andrew Hill included.

Ever since I met him, the guy’s been one huge pain in my ass, but now this? Sneaking up on me when I’m at my most vulnerable? Listening to me play. Staying behind the window like some creep …

As I go outside, the door slamming shut behind me with force, I go straight toward him.

Andrew takes a few steps back, but doesn’t manage to put much distance between us before he stumbles over his own feet, almost falling on his royal douchebag ass. Is this guy for real? And he plays hockey?

“You.” My voice is low, scarily so, as I push my finger into the middle of his chest so hard it’ll probably leave a bruise.

Ask me if I care.

“Look—” He lifts his hands in the air. “Let me ex—”

I shush him with another hard stab of my finger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, sneaking around my backyard in the middle of the night?”

“It’s not actually…” He rubs at the nape of his neck, his lips curling in a looped smile.

“Do I look like I care?” I cross my arms over my chest, tapping my foot in time with my rapidly beating heart. “What the fuck are you doing here, Hill?”

I will myself to calm my breathing and slow down my racing heart, as I don’t want to have a heart attack at seventeen.

He scratches the back of his head, mussing the hair as a smile spreads over his lips. He looks almost …boyish. Not that I ever thought I’d use that word to refer to Andrew Hill.

“Well, funny story …” He chuckles.

Fucking Andrew Hill chuckles.

“Are you drunk? High?”

Andrew chuckles again. “I wish.”

Tilting my head back, I take one deep,calmingbreath in. Not that it actually helps, because I’m close enough to sniff the air around him.

“You’re actually high!” I exclaim. “What the fuck, Andrew? What if somebody figures it out and they toss you off the team? Scratch that, I don’t care. What I do care about is what are you doing in my backyard?”

He waves me off like what I’m saying means nothing. “I was here to see Max.”

I lift my brow up in question, putting aside the subject of his intoxicated ass. For now. “Really?”

That one word is filled with so much sarcasm, even a fool couldn’t miss it.

Andrew tries to hold my stare, but breaks down. “Okay, not really.”

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