Page 130 of Let's Get Textual

When I finally reach the edge of Zach’s back yard, I jump up and down and wave at Zoe. She shoots me a thumbs up and parks the car.

I make my way toward the house and peek inside the window into Marshmallow’s bedroom. It’s too dark to really see anything.

Shit!I didn’t even think of that possibility.

The window isn’t far from the ground and surprisingly, I can reach it just fine, so I push on it with all my might.

It takes a couple tries, but I finally get it open.

“Zach! Hey! How’s that ass of yours?” I hear Zoe say loudly. She must be on the porch with him.

“My ass is fine, thank you. What are you doing here, Zoe? Is Delia with you?”

“What? No!” I can hear the panic in her voice. “Why would she be here?”

“Um…because we’re kind of dating?” Zach sounds so confused right now. “Or we were. We’re…whatever it is we are now.”

See? There’s still hope.

“Oh,” Zoe says. “Well, no. She isn’t here. I am here to talk to you about her though.”

“What about?”

“How crazy she is, absolutely batshit.”

I could strangle her.

Backing up, I take a running jump, and I must be coasting on pure adrenaline because I manage to get a grip on the window sill on the second try.

An unfamiliar head pokes out the window and I fall flat on my ass, which knocks the wind right out of me.

“Can I help you?” His voice is gruff, but he doesn’t sound angry.

Robbie—there’s no question about it. His caramel skin is the exact same tone as his son’s, who I’ve seen dozens of pictures of by now. He’s built—like,can barely fit through the windowkind of built—and I wonder for a moment if he used to play football.

Squinting down at me, I can tell he recognizes who I am too. “Hey, wait—you’re Delia, aren’t you?”

I nod. “That would be me.”

“Can I ask what the hell it is you’re doing?”

“Stealing Marshmallow and leaving a ransom note.”

He grins, and I know he understands. “You’re trouble.”

“Sometimes.”

“I hate to say it, but you have the wrong room.”

“No shit.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, only stands there studying me.

“You know what? Screw it,” he says. “Get up here. I’ll sneak off and grab Marshy while you leave the note.”

I stand and he reaches out to grab my hands, effortlessly pulling me up and through the window.

“That was so much easier than what I was doing,” I whisper. “I think I should start working out a bit more. I’ll need muscles like yours for the next house I break into.”

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