Page 37 of Icing on the Cake

Jackson shushes me, his finger pressed to his lips. He’s having the time of his life. His cheeks are flushed, and his hair is mussed from all the running.

I want to be annoyed, but it’s actually kind of fun living a scene from an action movie.

We round another corner and come face-to-face with a dead end. Jackson curses under his breath.

“Now what?” I demand, my hands on my hips.

He spins around, his eyes darting left and right. Then he spots something, and his face lights up. “There.”

I follow his gaze to a small door tucked into an alcove. Janitor’s closet.

“Oh no.” I shake my head wildly. “No way. I am not hiding in a closet with you.”

“And pass up the chance to tell Sarah I came out of the closet?”Jackson snickers as he grabs my hand again and tugs me inside.

The door clicks shut behind us, and we’re plunged into darkness. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of light. The closet is cramped and stinks of cleaning supplies and stale mop water.

“Ow,” I hiss as my foot collides with something hard and plastic. I stumble, my hands flailing in the darkness, and collide with Jackson’s solid chest.

“Watch it,” he grumbles against my ear. “There’s a broom stabbing me in the ass.”

I snort. “How do you thinkIfeel? My foot is literally in a bucket right now.”

Jackson shifts his body closer to mine in the confined space. “Seriously, how can you like something up the ass? This hurts like a motherf?—”

I clap my hand over his mouth, my heart leaping into my throat as heavy footsteps echo outside.

The security guards. They’re close. Too close.

We freeze. Jackson’s arms wind around my waist, and he pulls me flush against him. The rapid rise and fall of his chest and the thudding of his heart do nothing to calm my nerves.

The footsteps draw nearer and pause. A gruff voice mutters something unintelligible. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for the inevitable. For the door to be flung open, for light to flood the cramped space and expose us like deer caught in headlights.

But the moment never comes. The footsteps recede, fading into the distance until all I can hear is my ragged breathing.

I exhale shakily before sagging against Jackson in relief. “That was close.”

“Agreed.” His arms tighten around me. “You okay?”

I nod, then remember he can’t see me in the darkness. “Yeah. You?”

“I think the broom violated me, but I’ll live.”

A laugh bubbles up in my throat, born of relief and the absurdity of the situation.

“This is ridiculous.” I carefully untangle myself from Jackson’s embrace. “We should just go back to your dorm before we get caught and expelled.”

“Aw, come on.” Even in the darkness, I can see Jackson pouting. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“It died when my foot got stuck in this bucket.” I wiggle my toes, wincing as pins and needles shoot up my leg.

Light floods the closet as Jackson cracks open the door, making me squint. He pokes his head out, glances both ways, then sucks in a sharp breath.

“What?” I whisper while standing on my tippy-toes to see over his shoulder. “Is it the guards?”

He shakes his head mutely. I’ve never seen Jackson rendered speechless before. It’s unsettling.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I nudge him aside. I follow his stunned gaze, my own eyes widening when I see the plastic lettering above a set of swinging doors.