Page 82 of My Rock Star Neighbor
I walk up the narrow stairs, the extra suitcase I borrowed from Iris’s parents banging against my legs.I angle the suitcase so we both fit around the landing.
Footsteps race up behind me on the stairs, and I flinch.I shrink back against the wall.What if…?Nick’s face comes into view.With pink tulips.
He bounds up the last steps and hugs me.
“I missed you,” he says.
“It’s been less than eight hours.”I laugh.
“You haven’t missed me?”he asks.
I kiss him on the lips.“I missed you.”
“What did your boss say?”
“She’s worried,” I say.“She talked to her contact at the district attorney’s office.The paper’s security team is also investigating it.”
Nick takes the suitcase, and I hold his hand as we walk up the last flight of stairs together.
Outside my apartment, I pause and take a deep breath but quickly open the door.I put the tulips in a vase with water, while Nick pulls on gloves and disinfects my counter and my bathroom.My heart feels full as I watch him doing his best to erase all traces of last night’s invasion.
He sweeps up the monitor pieces and bags them to be recycled, while I stack on my desk all the papers that have been thrown around and put back my desk drawers.I pack my clothes in the suitcase.I leave most of my writing books, except for a few I use over and over.On top of the essential supplies, I add the framed photos of my family and my friends and the clipping of my first published article.Nick confirms I’m all right and then disappears into his apartment to pack more of his belongings, although his main priority is bringing the rest of his guitars to Luca’s.
I sit on one of the stools by my kitchen counter.What would have happened if I had been home alone and Nick had not woken me up?Would I have been able to get out in time once I heard the hammer banging?What did the intruder want?
I sort through the papers that were strewn on the floor: some newspaper clippings of articles I’m particularly proud of, my passport (thankfully, that wasn’t taken), and some travel articles or restaurant articles I’ve clipped.Almost all my documents are electronic, so it’s not much.I pack my felting kit for making minis and the cat I bought at the mini show.
Nick comes back in with a candle.
“Are we doing an exorcism now to get rid of the bad energy?”I ask.
“No.We’re burning our fake-dating contract,” Nick says.
Yes, we’re dating!For real!Nick felt invested last night, but I still worried that maybe he’d have second thoughts today.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t keep some terms—like the soundproofing?”I tease him.
“I’m still going to invest in soundproofing, but I don’t think I’m going to be keeping you up anymore by playing my music.I’ve found another means.”He grins.
“I’m all for this new approach,” I say.
Nick puts his arms around me.I lean back against his chest, feeling comforted and safe.He kisses the top of my head.When he finally releases me, I flip through the folders in my desk drawer.
But I can’t find the folder with the contract.I search through the hanging folders again.
My stomach dips.
“It’s gone,” I say flatly.
Nick goes through the stack as well.
“It’s not there,” he says.“Could you have put it anywhere else?”
“No,” I say.“Did that guy take it?”
We both stare at each other, dismay written all over Nick’s face.
“He’s got our fake-dating contract,” Nick says.“This is bad.What if he releases that to the press?”
