Page 74 of The Revenge Game

But it’s a compact car, and the space between us seems impossibly small.

When the car takes a sharp corner, Drew’s thigh presses against mine. He doesn’t move away immediately. My heart thunders so loudly I’m sure he must be able to hear it.

I slide a look at him. The streetlights paint him in alternating light and shadow, highlighting the gentle slope of his nose. The sharp line of his jaw softens when he bites his lower lip. His hand rests on the seat between us, close enough to touch him if Imoved my pinkie finger half an inch. The urge to bridge that tiny gap makes my fingers twitch.

But I manage to restrain myself.

This feeling inside me is simultaneously intoxicating and terrifying.

We spend the rest of the ride in silence that feels slightly charged.

Does he feel it too? Surely, this is not just in my imagination? Surely, surely, it’s not one-sided?

The Uber pulls up outside our apartment building.

But the thought of saying goodnight to Drew and retreating to our separate apartments sends a pang through me. I’m not ready for tonight to end.

“Uh… do you want to? I mean, we could…?”

Drew stands under the streetlight, the small furrow on his forehead growing deeper as I prove incapable of navigating through a sentence.

Suddenly, the whole world goes dark.

It’s like the universe was cringing so hard at my stumbling that it couldn’t bear to watch any longer. Or maybe it just wanted to spare me embarrassment by turning off the lights.

“Power cut,” Drew says.

Which is potentially a less egocentric explanation.

I fumble with my phone to turn on the flashlight. The dim light transforms Drew into a film noir detective, all dramatic shadows and mystery, except his glasses are slightly askew.

“I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a power cut in London,” I say.

There’s something almost magical about how the darkness transforms the normal street into something new and unexplored, especially with Drew standing close enough that I catch the faint scent of his cologne.

His closeness makes me feel giddy.

“We should take advantage of the power cut,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this the start of your descent into a life of crime? Because I feel obligated to warn you that I make a terrible getaway driver. My parallel parking skills are questionable at best.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of having an adventure rather than committing a crime, but I’m interested in the fact your mind immediately went there.”

Drew has a faint smile on his face. “Your version of adventure usually involves trying to convince me that beans for breakfast is culturally significant.”

“We should go up to the roof,” I suggest. “Without all the light pollution, we might actually be able to see some stars for once.”

“Can we actually get up there?”

“I’ve seen the maintenance guys leave the door propped open sometimes when they’re working up there.”

“Okay.”

We make our way up the stairs using our phone lights. Drew’s shoulder occasionally brushes mine in the darkness, sending sparks through me each time.

I have a surge of triumph when I discover that the maintenance door is actually unlocked. It creaks slightly as we push it open.

And then we’re out under an expanse of sky usually hidden by London’s glow.