by Cassie Mae
As quietly as I can, I set the notebook on the side table and peer down the hallway. Silence. And all the doors are open. Maybe I can take a peek. Just to make sure I’m alone.
I pad down the hall, whipping my head over my shoulder every half a second. Is this considered trespassing? I mean, I was invited in. I’ll just say I had to pee if I get caught. Oh, total genius, I was just running to the potty. I stop looking over my shoulder and stick my face in the first room.
My brain must’ve taken a mini-vacation, because I totally space that this was Levi’s room until my eyes are dead set on his big shoes piled in the corner, his band hoodie crumpled on his pillows, and Disney/Pixar movies spread out on his bookshelf.
I shouldn’t. No. Just back on out and check the other rooms, Sierra!
Even though it hurts like hell, I let air fill my cheeks and step through the door. I’m a crazy stalker. Stick that label on me now.
My feet take me straight to his top dresser drawer. I yank it open so hard because my hands are shaking, and I’m terrified if I do this slow I’ll back out, and the drawer falls into my arms and crashes to the floor.
Well, if anyone is here, I’m sure they’ll come running after that. I stare at the door for about ten seconds before taking a breath and crouching down to pick up all the—omigosh. It’s all underwear.
I really hope they were all stuffed into the drawer, because none of them are folded, and I’m not folding his boxers. What if my finger slips into that hole in the front? That’s sort of like touching second base, right? Or is it third? Agh! What am I thinking?
It’s just empty boxers. Empty. It’s not like there’s a penis hiding in them. Just need to get them back in the drawer and forget this all happened.
I scramble to get all the undies in their proper place, catching the fact Levi has his name written in Sharpie on the tags. It makes me laugh a little through my panic because if Brea and Levi need help knowing whose underwear is whose, I’m worried about what Brea’s wearing under those leggings.
As I’m grabbing the last pair of boxers, my fingers hit something hard underneath them, and I jump as if they bit me. Gosh, I need to calm down. I laugh at myself as I uncover a bottle of cologne. Adidas. I push the underwear in the drawer and take a deep inhale of the stuff.
Levi.
Smells like Levi.
Levi. Levi. Levi.
I’m on some sort of drug as I plop the bottle in the drawer and stand. I shove it in place, then back up with my palms raised as if the thing will blow if I’m not careful. The back of my knees hit the mattress and out of habit, I fling myself backward and blow out a sigh.
His bed smells like him too. I twist so I’m face first into the sheets, inhaling his scent like a dog with its favorite treat. I’m even panting like a dog. If it gets any worse, Levi’s going to walk in and find me licking myself.
I crawl up the bed and squeeze his pillow, shutting my eyes and moving from crazy stalker girl to extremely creepy stalker girl. My head floats somewhere in fantasy land where I picture Levi’s lips on his piccolo, on his Minute Maid, on me. Where I feel his arms that held me just hours ago. Where I hear him laughing, talking about music… where he’s holding my hand in the car, in Debate.
Then I hear the buzzing, and that makes me sigh and smile into the pillow. I picture him popping up out of nowhere to take me for that ride. My legs straddling his hips, my cheek pressed against his back. I wonder if it’ll be just as wonderful in real life as it is in my dreams.
A sharp crash echoes through my head, and I bolt upright. I rub my eyes and blink, staring out the small window in Levi’s room.
It’s dark. Like way dark. And there are footsteps creaking their way closer. My heart thumps right out my chest as I roll off the bed and slide under it—taking that hoodie with me—just as socked feet walk in and a light clicks on.
Chapter 13
I’ll just keep the monster under the bed company all night long.
The bed creaks as Levi sits, and I flatten myself on the floor as much as I can. I hear some metal against metal, then clacking like he’s tapping a keyboard. He clears his throat, takes a deep breath, then high-pitched music fills the room.
I push both hands over my mouth to keep from sighing or moaning or doing any other uncontrollable physical reaction I have to his piccolo playing. I have no clue what song he’s playing, but it sounds wonderful. Like a background track to a fountain or rain or some kind of falling water. He could totally play at a spa or something.
He gets to one part, and I think he’s playing the same notes over and over. He keeps stopping, taking a breath, then playing it again. After a few takes, I hear him growl and feel the bed bounce back to its normal position. Levi’s feet pace back and forth across the room, and I rock myself under the bed so he doesn’t catch a glimpse of me.
There’s another deep breath, then he plays the same part. I don’t know what he’s going for, but it all sounds the same to me, and I have no clue why he’s not happy with it.
The music stops, something crashes across the top of the bed, and Levi’s knees hit the floor. I scurry back as far as I can—which honestly, isn’t very far—and put my hands over my mouth again so he doesn’t hear me breathing.
His hands spread on the carpet, and his forehead hits next, smooshing his blond hair against the top of his eyes. He curls his fingers into a fist and pounds once on the floor. “Damn it.”
I have to control my body. It wants to reach out and grab him and make sure he’s okay. He stays glued to the carpet, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth as if he’s trying to keep himself together. If this is only about the piccolo, I’ll tell him he’s nuts to think he sucks. But for some reason, I think the piccolo is only the top of something that’s much deeper.
I almost crawl out, even though I have no idea what to say or how he’ll react, but he moves, and I stick to my hiding spot.
His fist uncurls as he reaches for his pocket. He pulls out his phone and turns his head, and I’m so glad he’s facing the other way because he so would’ve seen me.
He seems to be fighting with himself. He keeps pressing something, then turning the phone off and resting it on the floor. Then he growls and picks it up again. He could be texting, but it doesn’t look like he’s typing anything.
I really need to talk to Mom and Dad about new contacts. I could see that screen. Maybe see what time it is.
Levi shifts again, making me jolt. I hit my head on the bed frame, but it’s not hard enough to make noise. He leans back on his knees, and I relax a little because there’s less danger of his face turning and catching me.
“Just do it,” he says to the phone in his palm. “It’s not a big deal.”
Add giving himself pep talks on the adorable list. I wonder who he’s trying to talk to. Hopefully someone who will help him out of this funk. (As long as it’s not Blinky.) I don’t like seeing frustrated and sad Levi.
His thumb shakes as it presses the call button, then his whole hand disappears from my view as he brings it up to his ear.
I feel the vibration in my pocket before my phone screams my ringtone out like a banshee.
I move faster than I thought I was capable of, yanking the cell from my pocket and chucking it across the floor. Then I bury my face in his hoodie, too afraid to look at his expression when he finds me without a perfectly sane reason to be hiding in his room. But I can’t help but peek over the fabric.
He leaps to his feet, the phone still singing on the floor way too close to me for comfort. His hand wraps around the cell, and then everything goes quiet.
What’s he thinking? Gosh, is he going to poke his head under the bed any second? What do I say? “I was just looking at your box spring.” Yeah… that’s almost as awesome as looking at his bush.
“Brea!”
I smack my head against the bed again, harder this time, but thankfully Brea’s voice covers any noise I made.
“What?”
&n
bsp; Levi moves across the room, opening his door, but he doesn’t go out. “Was Sierra here today?”
I hear gum popping. “Yeah. We did that mentoring shit.”
“Were you guys in my room?”
Please, Brea, be a good on-the-spot improviser.
“Just for a second. Sierra wanted to borrow a sweater ‘cause it was cold outside, and I know you’re weird about her being in the house.”
Guess I’m keeping this hoodie if I ever get out from under his bed.
And what? Why would he be weird about me being here?
Levi’s feet shuffle, and he clears his throat. “Fine, but next time could you… I don’t know, get it yourself and not let her in my room?”
Okay, I’m going to end up dying under the bed, because no way am I coming out now. He doesn’t want me here. Not just anyone, but me specifically. What the hell did I do?
“What makes you think she was in your room?” Brea asks, then pops her gum again.
“Her phone was on my floor.”
The popping stops. “Huh, guess it fell out of her pocket. I can give it back to her.”
“No!” he blurts, and I see Brea’s feet take a step back. “I mean, I got it. I’ll see her tomorrow anyway.”
There’s a pause, and I’m tempted to slam my face back into Levi’s hoodie.
“Well, she left some other shit here too. Might as well take that.”
“Huh?”
They walk into the hallway together, and my stomach just about falls straight through the trailer floor. My notebook is sitting on that table…opened right to that big green page.
What’s worse? Being caught in his house still or him seeing that?
I don’t have time to choose, because Levi’s back in his room, dropping my backpack on the floor next to his and sitting on the bed again. He’s closed his door, and I prick my ears for any indication of what he’s doing. Maybe they didn’t see the notebook. Or maybe Brea put it in my backpack before Levi saw it.
Then I hear a small thud on the sheets and the turning of a page… and the smell of apple marker. Damn it.
Levi shifts on the bed so only a foot dangles off the edge. This time, I do bury my entire head in his hoodie, willing my body not to overheat and set the whole room on fire.
I hear him chuckle. Not like a loud boom of laughter, but something soft and sort of relieved sounding. Not sure what to make of it until I feel the bed creak as he stretches across it and then goes back to where he was.
The high-pitched music goes through the room again. He gets to that one part, and there’s a slight difference to it. A much better difference. It’s amazing. Is that what he was trying to do? Because wow.
He stops and I prepare for another growl, but I get that cute chuckle again.
“Levi Mason can rock a piccolo,” he says out loud before the music starts up again.
And he does. He rocks the crap out of that piccolo.
***
It’ll be days before anyone finds me. Levi zonked out about an hour ago, and I’ve tried wiggling from the spot under the bed, but he’s the wildest and most restless sleeper I’ve ever met. His legs and arms keep flopping off the edge, and I almost got kicked in the face during my last attempt. Then he keeps talking, making me jump because I’m so effing tense thinking he’s actually awake.
I swear, I’m going to die under here. Probably from a burst bladder, because I don’t remember the last time I went to the bathroom.
I wish I hadn’t chucked my phone. I bet Mom and Dad are freaking out, or Zoe is if she somehow covered for me. Maybe I should reward myself if I can guess how many missed calls I have when I get my phone back. Well, I know of at least one.
The loudest oven alarm in the world blasts through the room, and I let out a tiny “yeep!” then smack my face in Levi’s hoodie. He groans, and if I wasn’t concentrating on being caught in the most embarrassing moment ever, I’d think that was the sexiest sound in the world.
The mattress shifts, then his arm dangles over the edge of the bed inches from my hip. I shuffle to the other side, but his leg hangs over there, and if I scoot anymore, he’ll hit my shoulder. Gosh, how tall is this guy?
After a few minutes of silence and no movements, I close my eyes and scrunch up the hoodie to get as comfortable as I can. Maybe I’ll just sleep here. I really hope I don’t snore.
Just when my mind drifts, the screaming buzzer of the alarm from the kitchen goes off a second time.
“Uhhhnnnn,” he groans again, and his arm disappears as the bed shifts, his leg no longer hanging over the edge. I hear him yawn, then a white shirt gets tossed across the room.
Oh. My. Gosh.
Another piece of clothing flumps on the floor by my head, and bare feet and legs swing over the side of the bed. Is he naked? Holy crap, he’s going to be naked! No wait… chill, it’s only pants and a shirt. Unless he naps commando, which I doubt because he has a humongo drawer of boxers. Areas are still covered. Chill. Out.
The weight from the bed releases as he stands, then… boxers land on the heap of clothes he’s already stripped from his body.
Okay…now he’s naked.
Naked. Levi.
Naked.
Totally naked.
I stare at the clothes in a sort of trance, thinking maybe if I concentrate hard enough, they’ll jump back on his body. Because gosh do I want to see… but I don’t want to see… why can’t I close my eyes! What is wrong with me? I’ve grown into a freaking pervert.
He needs to get dressed now. Like right now. Before I lose all sanity and try to wiggle from the bed to get a better look.
Another yawn as he pads his way to his dresser. Please don’t squat. No naked squatting is allowed. I don’t care that it’s still dark, my eyes have been adjusted all night and no matter how sexy Levi is, I do not want to see that.
A drawer slides open, and I see a towel unravel and wave against his ankles. A little bit of tension blows out of my mouth in a whoosh of relieved breath. He pulls out khaki shorts from his bottom drawer, and I’m okay with the squatting now that areas are covered, as long as he doesn’t look my direction. And holy freaking heavens, he’s so hot. I can’t help but scoot a little closer to get a better look at his calf muscles and the sliver of stomach I can see above the towel. He straightens to grab something from an upper drawer though, and my bottom lip juts out in a pout. I need to close my eyes. I’m turning the term Peeping Tom into Creeping Sierra.
I slam my hand over my lids and bury into the hoodie again.
Then wait…
And wait…
And wait some more.
How in the hell am I going to get out of—
“Sierra?”
The hushed whisper jolts my head up. Levi has disappeared, and smaller feet with painted toenails creep into the room.
“Sierra, are you in here?”
“Brea?”
She drops to her knees and peeks at me in my hiding spot. I’ve never been so happy and panicked all at once. A wide grin spreads on her face, and she lets loose a few quiet bubbles of laughter.
“He’s in the shower, and my mom’s out back reading. You want to get out of here?”
“Yes!” I breathe, wiggling and rolling into the room that now feels like it’s the biggest room in the world after being stuck under the bed for what felt like forever.
Brea’s still laughing as she hands me her cell. “Do you have anyone you can call to pick you up? Levi won’t be out for about twenty minutes.”
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s just past nine. I push in Zoe’s number, the only one I have memorized.
“Um…Hello?” she answers, sounding a little tired.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Sierra? What number are you calling from?”
“Can you come get me?” I ask in a loud whisper. “I got stuck at Levi’s place, long story, but I don’t want to walk home in the dark by myself.”
“Be right there.”
I hang up and hand the phone back to Brea, who is still laughing.
“It’s not funny,” I say, shoving her a bit in the shoulder.
“It’s hilarious.” She tucks her phone into the side of her bra and crosses her arms. “I’m going out back to keep my mom distracted, so wait for your ride out there.” She waves her hand to the outside gate.
I nod and tug Levi’s hoodie over my head. When she raises an eyebrow at me, I say, “I borrowed one, right?”
“Oh! Right.”
We share a smile, then she laughs at me again and my smile turns into a grimace. She’s still silently giggling when she heads to the back door.
Chapter 14
It’s not like he’s cancelling. It’s a reschedule and that’s totally different.
Adam bends over the lunch table and laughs so hard he dumps his apple juice all over his shorts.
“Ah dammit!” he yelps and leaps out of his seat. Now I’m the one who’s laughing. Serves him right for making fun of my under-the-bed story.
I run to get napkins, then clean the table while he scrubs his shorts. Some girls from the dance team walk by and make a joke about early ejaculation. Adam’s face turns close to the color of his hair, and he sits back down and slides under the table to hide his bottom half.
“So, uh…how long were you there?” He attempts to laugh again.
Thumping into the seat across from him, I shrug off the girls and smile. “For-e-ver. I had to pee so bad.”
“How did he not catch you?” Adam smirks, twirling the empty apple juice bottle on the table.
“He…got in the shower.”
He stops the bottle from spinning. “Oh.” His lips purse as he holds back laughter. I try to will my cheeks to stay their normal color. “So, Zoe came and got ya?”
I nod, and pick up spinning the bottle where he left off. “She made fun of me, like you did, then jabbered about wedding plans.”