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Then stop so close that I can see their shoes. Black pumps for Leslie. Scuffed Keds for the girl. I hold my breath, covering my nose and mouth with my hand for good measure, afraid to make the slightest noise. Even so, my heart pounds so loud in my chest that I’m certain they could hear it if they stopped talking long enough to listen. Thankfully, they don’t.
“What’s your relationship status?” Leslie asks. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“I, um, have a boyfriend.” The girl sounds thrown by the question. “Will that be a problem?”
“For you, yes,” Leslie says. “There are certain rules that temporary tenants must follow. One of them is no visitors.”
Leslie walks toward the master bath, her pumps vanishing from my field of vision. The girl in the Keds stays a moment longer before reluctantly following her.
“Ever?” she says.
“Ever,” Leslie replies from inside the bathroom, the tile giving her voice a watery echo. “Another rule is no nights spent away from theapartment. So if you’re approved to stay here, I’m afraid you won’t be seeing very much of your boyfriend.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” she says.
“I’ve heard that before.”
Leslie returns to the foot of the bed, her black pumps mere inches from my face. They’re spotless—so polished that I can see my warped reflection in the gleaming leather.
“Tell me about your family,” she says. “Any next of kin?”
“My parents live in Maryland. Same with my younger sister. She wants to be an actress, too.”
“How lovely for your parents.” Leslie pauses. “That’s all the questions I have. Shall we return to the lobby?”
“Um, sure,” the girl says. “Did I get the job?”
“We’ll give you a call in a few days to let you know.”
They both leave the bedroom, Leslie flicking off the lights on her way out. Soon I hear the front door close and the key click in the lock.
Even though they’re now gone, I wait before moving.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
When I do start to move, it’s just enough to slide my phone out from under me and check for a text from Nick.
It arrives thirty seconds later.
They’re in the elevator.
I crawl out from under the bed and move into the hall on tiptoes, still too frightened to make much noise. At the door, I undo the lock and peek outside, making sure they’re really gone. Seeing no one, I lock the door again, close it behind me, and sprint to the staircase.
Nick is still on the landing, his expression changing from fraught to overjoyed when he sees me running up the first set of steps.
“That was nerve-racking,” he says.
“You have no idea.”
My heart continues to hammer in my chest, making me light-headed. I think the dizziness is from shock that I wasn’t caught and immediately booted from the Bartholomew. Or maybe it’s because of the way Nick is gripping my hand, his palm hot as he quickly pulls me up the steps to the twelfth-floor landing.
We head straight to his apartment—running, giggling, shushing, both of us riding the high of getting away with something we shouldn’t have been doing. Inside, Nick leans against the door, his chest heaving. “Did we just do that?”
I’m also out of breath, answering in huffs. “I... think... we did.”