Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,80

you sure?”

He nodded.

I went straight upstairs once we’d arrived, ignoring any qualms I felt about bringing William Bishop into my bedroom. I’d been filled with a new energy, a new purpose. Even with all the planning I’d put in, I still couldn’t comprehend that we actually came out of it successful.

I tossed the bag to the floor and pulled my laptop onto my bed. William perched beside me on the duvet. “Want me to grab twenty nineteen?”

I nodded, typing in the several passwords I had protecting my computer. He plugged in the hard drive as I waited for the desktop to launch.

William’s eyes met mine in anticipation, their green illuminated by the light filtering through the curtains. The joy in my chest only grew with the small smile that formed on his lips.

Back up external hard drive?

I clicked yes.

This morning’s victorious streak was broken when it reported it’d take an hour and thirty minutes to copy across the content.

William looked disappointed too. Maybe he’d also hoped we’d have immediate footage to show for our efforts. “Well, you could leave it running while you go to—”

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the distinct sound of the front door opening.

“Crap,” I hissed. In one slow second, I managed to do multiple things at once. With one hand, I shut the laptop and forced it—and the hard drive—under a horde of cushions. With the other, I grabbed the duffel bag and William’s arm before lunging into my closet.

Our breaths were coming fast as I heard footsteps below the stairs. My mom was home. I didn’t even realize she would be back so early.

“It’s my mom,” I whispered, looking away. If I looked directly at him, our noses would touch. There wasn’t much room between the designer labels. I was experiencing déjà vu, flashing back to when I was trapped in William’s locker. Only, instead of his lacrosse gear pressed against me, it was him.

“Let me guess, she can’t know you’re skipping school?” he asked, his breath landing on the top of my hair.

I ran a hand behind my ear. “Obviously.”

I could hear her downstairs, humming to herself among the rustling of shopping bags. It was lucky William was driving a different car, or the model on the street would have definitely caught her attention.

I let out a frustrated groan. “We might never get past her.”

“So we better get comfy?” he joked, shifting his weight slightly, only managing to come even closer.

“I’m trying to think.”

But I couldn’t think. He was all around me and my heart was still pumping from the break-in. My mind was giddy, high at the thought of having everything I needed in the bag by my feet.

He was too. I could tell by the rate of his heart against my chest. God, why did I have to choose the closet? Why not, I don’t know, out of the window and into the bushes? Or under the bed? Somewhere I could think clearly—about more than his lips being so close to mine.

“Chloe . . .” he whispered, his voice strained. He felt it too.

My lips parted, but I couldn’t answer him. Not with everything going on in my head—in my body. He was so close, and I was still soaring with euphoria. I felt impulsive, and I felt an attraction growing almost impossible to hide behind my logic.

But even with my inhibitions derailed, it still surprised me when my fingers laced through his hair to pull him toward me. Then his lips were hard against mine.

Twenty-Eight

Monica,

You used to tease me for not having a boyfriend. I teased you for having too many, so we were even, but I didn’t know back then how lucky I was to have you to talk to about anything. Liking someone is so confusing, and I don’t have anyone to confide in. It’s like you could know every logical fact and it could still be demolished by a feeling in your heart. You can build up so many walls but it only brings you closer.

You can try and protect yourself as best as possible, but they can still see inside. And it’s the scariest thing in the world.

Do you know what that’s like?

Love, Chloe

THUNDER RUMBLED THROUGH my body, an untamed animal that had broken free from its reins. Like a match meeting flame, a spark had erupted, so hot and wild that it overcame me entirely. I was a puppet to an animalistic instinct manipulating my fingers to wind through his hair, filling