Page 139 of Home Game

“What is this?”

“The key to your room.”

My heart sank. “You got me my own room?”

“I’m right next door and my room adjoins to yours. We can keep the doors open between the rooms.”

I knew I sounded childish, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from mumbling, “You’re sick of me.”

My head bent over as I tried to unlock the door. It wouldn’t open.

He took the plastic keycard from my hand and the door clicked open. “Nope.”

I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t.

I walked into my room and the first thing I did was open the middle door that joined my room to his. Then I sat on the bed and waited for him to open his door.

The lock clicked, and he opened the door, but just a crack. That inch of space to his room wasn’t an invitation to talk or hang out. It was a this-is-open-for-emergency-but-don’t-bug-me kind of inch.

I fretted. Was this the end of our friendship? When we returned to Vancouver, would he ask me to move out? That kiss had changed things. Is this where things got weird and now he wanted to get away from me?

The whole thing stressed me out. I curled up on my bed and worked through a thousand scenarios that involved me heading back to the streets. I mentally made careful plans on how to stay safe. I needed to remember how to be street smart or I wouldn’t last a day.

We didn’t speak for the rest of the night.

The street was pitch dark.The street light offered faint protection from the thing that chased me.

I woke up fighting through a maze of dread and darkness.

“Hey, Zoey. It’s just a dream. You’re safe,” Ryan’s voice soothed. He had me hauled up against his bare chest and big arms wrapped around me.

“What happened?” I managed to ask. My heart pounded fiercely from all the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“I heard you cry out.”

Eyes shut, I clung to Ryan, working to draw long breaths into my chest. “You came.”

“What’s that?” His lips grazed my forehead.

“You came to wake me.”

“Of course.”

The dream had torn away my protective layers and exposed me for how I really felt. Scared, I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of me. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Zoey.”

I opened my eyes and stared into his. “I’ll move out. I’ll get a job. I’ll get out of your way, but please be my friend. You’re my only real friend and it makes me so sad to think you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

“Zoey, I’m not mad at you.” He hesitated and then added, “I’m mad at myself.”

“I think you’re mad at me too.”

He squeezed me closer. “I needed to clear my head.”

“Is it clear now?”

“Who the fuck knows.”

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