Darling - K. Ancrum Page 0,9

stubborn, so Wendy always tried to be immovable, too, if she could manage it. If her parents didn’t want her to leave her room until next Friday, then Friday it would be. She saved pizza from yesterday and ate it in the morning, resolutely refusing to come downstairs when she was called for breakfast.

Wendy lay on her bed reading for the whole day and texting sporadically with Eleanor—who was not thrilled to hear the news that there was no hope for having any plans this Sunday. Wendy figured that when Mr. and Mrs. Darling headed off to the party at her father’s new job, she could run across the street to the nearby 7-Eleven and stock up on snacks so she could really lean in to camping out in her room.

She slipped into a hungry, fitful nap as the sun set and missed Mr. Darling coming into her room with a plate of chicken and some rice. He placed the plate on her nightstand and lovingly tucked the Saran wrap around it. He picked her pizza plate up from the floor next to her bed and let himself out of her room, closing the door quietly behind him.

In fact, Wendy missed Mr. and Mrs. Darling getting ready, feeding Nana, and locking her up for the night. She slept straight through Mrs. Darling’s gentle, apologetic knock on her door, her whispered good night, and the sound of her parents slipping out to the party.

But what Wendy didn’t miss was all the books in front of her window crashing to the floor. She startled groggily and tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Long arms thrust their way through the open window, followed by a head of wavy, tousled hair. The intruder pulled himself silently into the room and slid along the wall toward the door.

Wendy sat up and turned on the bedside light. “Who the fuck are you, and what in God’s name are you doing in my room?”

The man turned to look at her, and Wendy’s breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t a man; he was a boy. More specifically, a boy her age. Even more specifically, an incredibly attractive boy her age.

They stared at each other in mutual horror.

Wendy took in his long dark eyelashes, his smattering of freckles, the way his nose turned up at the tip, and the impossible whorls of his auburn hair. He was golden-eyed like a lion and looked just as hungry, but his mouth was soft, pink, and generous. She followed the lean lines of his body—broad-shouldered with sharp, slim hips in excruciatingly tight jeans—to land on his faded T-shirt and gray jean jacket that was missing a sleeve.

“Your dog ripped my jacket,” the boy said in a soft voice. “I’m just getting what’s owed.”

“You’re … robbing me?” Wendy asked in quiet disbelief.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he drawled. “I’m only taking enough to resell and replace what was destroyed. Didn’t even know you were here. This place used to be empty.”

Wendy scowled. “It’s not empty anymore, and you need to leave or I’m calling the police.”

While she’d been talking, the boy had inched closer to the door and grasped the handle, but when Wendy mentioned the cops, he froze.

“That’s not fair. I haven’t even taken anything just yet,” he said, scandalized. “And you’re the one whose dog ripped up my jacket, so technically you’re the one who’s done something to me first.”

“What do y— You know what, I’m not arguing with a burglar.” Wendy sprung up from the bed and began rooting through the covers for her cell phone, but the boy was faster.

He snatched it off the corner of her quilt and held it up. “You bring me something that covers the cost of my damages and I give you your precious phone back and disappear.”

“Dude, we just freakin’ moved here,” Wendy snapped loudly, done whispering. “All of our stuff is still packed. Even if I wanted to give you something, everything is in boxes.”

“Then you have a problem on your hands, don’t you?” the boy asked, tossing the phone up and catching it.

Wendy stared at him and thought for a minute.

He was clearly very fast, so if he wanted to hurt or even kill her, he probably could have done it by now. Plus, he hadn’t said that he wanted to steal all their valuables, just recoup the cost of replacing the jacket. But even if she knew how much the jacket cost, he could just lie to her