Rm w/a Vu(36)

Upstairs…where the bedrooms are. There’s a study too, I quickly remind myself. And the mystery room.

“Okay,” Greyston says, finishing his dinner and heading to the sink. “I’ll be right up after I clean the kitchen.”

I take the last bite of my pasta and join him. “Don’t be silly. Go. I’ll clean up,” I offer with a smile.

“Yeah?” He’s got a silly grin on his face, and it’s pretty infectious.

“Yes. Go. Do whatever it is that you boys do.” I’m honestly trying not to think too much about it because I still don’t really have a definitive answer. “I’ll be hitting the books right away anyway.”

Greyston gives my upper arm a light squeeze. “Thanks. We’ll try to keep it down.”

Oh, so they’re noisy.

After finishing the dishes, I wipe the counters off and head upstairs with a fresh-brewed cup of coffee. As I reach the top of the stairs, I hear their voices. From behind the closed door to my right. Yes, the mystery room.

Curious—as always—I step closer, being sure to balance on the tips of my toes and move softly over the glossy hardwood floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hear Greyston demand.

Toby laughs. “What? I thought you’d like that… No?”

“Hell no!”

I search the door for a keyhole or something to peep through. I am deeply aware of just how wrong this is, but I can’t seem to help myself.

“Well, what about when I do this?”

My eyes widen as I imagine what “this” could possibly be. I can’t even fathom it. Flashes of them caught in some kind of torrid embrace flood my mind, and tendrils of warmth spread across my skin, caressing me until my fingers and my toes tingle.

Definitely not the effect I expected from such a thought, but a welcome one, nonetheless.

“Um, it’s a little better. Still doesn’t amaze me.”

Wow, Greyston’s tough to please.

“You know,” Toby says, sounding exasperated, “you were a lot more fun last week when we did this.”

Greyston laughs loudly. “Yeah, well, last week we didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else with our shenanigans.”

I instantly step away from the door, finally coming to my senses enough to know I really shouldn’t be so invasive. However, in my haste to retreat, I bump into the little table against the wall, sending a candle toppling over and onto the floor with a very loud—and echoey—thud!

Silence fills the hall. Greyston and Toby have stopped doing whatever it is they’re doing; I’ve stopped breathing and am just waiting to be found out. Before that can happen, I snatch the candle up off the floor and put it back on the table. I can’t be sure it’s even in the right spot as I dash from the scene—as quickly as I can with a cup of coffee—and the door opens behind me.

“Juliette?” Greyston calls out into the hall, but I’ve already disappeared from sight.

Taking a deep breath, I put a smile on my face and hang my head out into the hall. “Yeah?”

“Did you…?”

I reach out and run my fingers through my hair, stepping out into the hall. “Oh,” I say. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going—the hazards of reading a text while walking—and bumped into the table.” I can’t lie, so I figure a slight bend and an omission is probably best. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

Greyston chuckles, stepping out into the hall. I notice he’s shed the button-up shirt he was wearing and is now in a thinner cotton tee. His hair might be a little more mussed than before, but I don’t get the chance to properly survey the area before he runs his long fingers through it. “Trust me,” he says in a teasing tone. “You can’t be any more disturbing than Toby. Do you have any idea what he was doing?”

I open my mouth to put a few guesses out there, but then think better of it. “I can only imagine,” I reply sweetly. “Well, I should hit the books.” I point toward my room with my thumb.

“Oh, okay. You’ll let me know if you need anything?” I nod. “Remember to make yourself at home. Help yourself to whatever it is you want.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Greyston and I go our separate ways, but before I close my door, I hear him exclaim, “Did you keep going without me?”

I stifle a laugh as I close my door. With what I suspect is going on down the hall, it’s hard for me to focus on my studies, and I think I’ve re-read the same paragraph at least ten times. My eyes burn, and my eyelids grow heavy. I close them for a minute, just to rest them and gather a reserve of energy, but when I open them again my cheek is pressed to the pages of my text and it’s pitch black outside. One quick glance at my alarm clock tells me it’s four in the morning.