Page 55 of Text Me Baby One More Time

I glance up at the looming building, unsure I want to walk inside.

When Shep said we live close to one another, he wasn’t kidding.

He just forgot to mention that while I live in thenicepart of town, he lives in thefancy as fuckpart.

“I’m coming.”

“Oh, you will be.”

He chuckles then grunts when I whack him with my patched-up duffle bag.

“Good lord.” He rubs at his shoulder. “What do you have in that raggedy-ass thing I’m pretty certain once belonged to a homeless person?”

“It did not!” I look down at my bag, which has seen better days. “It’s just well loved.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” He snatches it from my hands and leads us into the building, nodding at the security guard in the front lobby. “Evening, Jim.”

“Mr. Clark, you’re back late. Lookin’ mighty sharp too. A date?”

“Gala.”

“Oh goodness. Those things are always so stuffy.”

“We raised a hundred thousand for charity, so it wasn’t all bad.”

“We did?” I say, surprised.

Shep ducks his head, refusing to meet my eyes. “It’ll go to a baseball camp for kids with diabetes.” He waves a hand. “It’s no big deal. We donate all the time.”

“We?”

He nods shyly, which is weird because shy isn’t a word I’d use to describe Shep. “Me and a couple of other guys. I don’t usually attend the events, but I always donate to them.”

“I…I didn’t know that.”

He shrugs. “You didn’t ask. Now move it. I have things to do.”

“What in the world could you possibly have to do at almost midnight thirty?”

“Take care of Steve.”

“Who’s Steve? A neighbor?”

He guides me inside the elevator, ignoring my questions. “Good night, Jim.”

“See ya later, Mr. Clark.”

The elevator doors close, and the fact that we’re alone suddenly hits me.

Panic begins to claw at my throat.

I’m going to Shep’s apartment. I’m staying the night with him—willingly.

Am I insane?

The doors open and we step out of the elevator, turning left, not stopping until we reach the end of the hall.

I can’t help but smile when I see the number on the door.

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