Page 76 of The Revenge Game

Without thinking, I grab Drew’s hand and pull him behind a large ventilation unit.

We press ourselves against the metal, Drew’s back to my chest, my arm wrapped around his waist to keep him steady.

This is what I’ve wanted for so long. Drew’s body pressed against mine, feeling so perfect.

Although maybe I didn’t imagine these exact circumstances.

I have to force my body not to respond, which is incredibly hard when he shifts slightly against me. His hair tickles my chin, and I catch the faint scent of his shampoo.

“I saw someone up here,” Peterson calls out. His footsteps grow nearer.

I spot a gap between two air conditioning units.

“This way,” I whisper directly into Drew’s ear.

Somehow, we’re holding hands again, and I tug him through the gap, accidentally yanking too hard so he stumbles into me. His elbow connects with my ribs in a way that sends a jolt through me, making me wheeze out a laugh.

We freeze as Peterson’s flashlight beam sweeps past us.

“I thought we weren’t engaging in criminal activity,” Drew whispers against my neck. His breath sends shivers down my spine.

“Think of it as a team-building exercise with a side of mild trespassing,” I whisper back.

Drew’s silent laughter vibrates against my chest, where we’re pressed together. We edge along the wall in a bizarre sideways shuffle.

Drew stumbles slightly, hip-checking an AC unit that responds with an ominous rattle. We both freeze, holding our breath like kids caught sneaking cookies until the metal beast settles back into silence.

The fire escape door protests with an unholy screech when we push it open.

We clatter down the metal stairs in what has to be the least stealthy escape in the history of rooftop getaways. We burst into the hallway of our floor, and I fumble my phone out of my pocket, nearly dropping it twice as I try to activate the flashlight. The beam bounces wildly across the walls as Peterson’s heavy footsteps echo in the stairwell above us, getting closer with each thundering step.

My keys jangle as I try to find the right one, making enough noise to wake not only everyone on our floor but probably several generations of their ancestors too.

I finally manage to open it, and we tumble through the door into my apartment, collapsing against the wall in a breathless heap.

Just then, the lights flicker on, exposing our less-than-graceful entrance in all its fluorescent glory.

Drew’s glasses are slightly crooked and his chest is heaving with what seems to be a combination of breathlessness and laughter.

He turns to look at me, his dark hair ruffled, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners.

And I’m suddenly struck by the incredible rightness of this moment.

How being here, shoulder-to-shoulder with Drew, laughing over the ridiculousness of the situation, is the most right I’ve ever felt.

So I lean forward and kiss him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Andrew

At first, I think extreme breathlessness has forced me over the edge into a hallucination.

Because, somehow, the nerve receptors on my lips are sending signals to my brain that Justin’s lips are touching mine. His lips are impossibly soft, barely brushing against my mouth in a way that makes my whole body go weak.

He pulls away, and I can’t tear my eyes from his lips. Were they really just pressed against mine? My breath comes in short gasps that now have nothing to do with my lack of fitness.

“Sorry,” those lips say, and I rip my gaze away from them.