Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
But now, as Stone joins me in the stairwell a few minutes later, the world is in vivid color. It’s so bright, I can’t help noticing how vivid his blue, blue eyes are this morning, even as I quickly fill him in on the plan.
“Okay, first step, turn off your phone and give it to me,” I whisper, holding out my hand, palm up. “I’ll put it in my purse, and you can say you left it in your locker. I’ll be sure to get it back to you during your lunch break. I left my phone in my car, so that’s already covered.”
He blinks, looking confused, but he hands his phone over without a fuss. “Okay, but how does this save my poor clenched ass?”
“You’ve heard the rumors about the old wing being haunted, right?” I ask, talking fast. Every moment counts, and we don’t have many to spare. “That’s why the lights are always flickering on and off down there and people keep getting locked in the storage room and the—”
“The bathroom,” he cuts in, nodding as he catches my drift. “Like Tank and Steph.”
I point a finger at his face. “Bingo. So, here’s the story… I needed to get into the storage room for supplies for my volunteer job. But the boxes of whatever I needed were too high, and I couldn’t find a ladder. I was on my way to maintenance to get one when I saw you coming out of the bathroom next to the storage room and asked if you could help me out. Since you’re tall and, at the time of the asking, you still had fifteen minutes left before you had to be at the morning meeting.”
He grins. “And I said, yes, because I’m a sweetheart like that, but oops! Oh, no! As soon as we stepped inside, the door swung shut, and we were locked in. I would have called for help, but I realized I left my phone in the bathroom! I must have just walked out and left it on the sink after I washed my hands.”
I nod faster. “Ooo, good idea. We can drop it there on the way to the storage area. And, like I said, I left my cell in my car, so we had no way to text anyone.” I turn my lips down hard in a faux “poor me” expression as I lift my hands into the air. “We shouted and shouted for someone to come let us out, but we guess no one heard. So sorry, Coach.”
“Fuck, yes! You’re brilliant!” He snatches me up into a hug, spinning me around as I laugh and hiss, “Stop, psycho. We have to go. Now! This only works if we get ourselves locked up before anyone spots us.”
“Right. Got it.” He sets me down, adding in a rush, “But you’re really sexy when you’re plotting and scheming. And I really appreciate it. I hope you’ll give me the chance to show just how much I appreciate it with some high-quality, extremely focused oral sex at your earliest convenience.”
“What part about we have to go now didn’t you understand?” But I’m fighting a smile as I tell him to, “Focus, horndog.”
“Right. Sorry. Focused. Let’s go.”
I poke my head out of the stairwell, checking both ways to ensure the long hallway is deserted, before waving Stone after me. He follows, guiding the heavy door shut with an almost silent click before following in my footsteps. We dash quietly past the family bathroom, where he quickly drops his phone, then on to the storage room, which is thankfully empty and giving off its usual haunted vibes.
Honestly, the haunted vibes I could do without, but the general creepiness of this part of the complex should lend authenticity to our claim. And it’s not like we’re the only people who’ve ever been accidentally locked in. It happened to Tank last year, and Grammercy, the transfer from Louisiana, just last week, not long after we freed Tank and Steph from the bathroom. The poor guy was trapped in the storage room for so long, he had to pee in his water bottle.
There’s definitely been enough trouble with this punch code door that they should have replaced it, or just taken it off the hinges, years ago. I mean, who’s going to steal the grungy old stuff the team stores in the overflow area anyway?
As we slip into the storage room and I pull the door shut behind us, I’m reminded again of how icky it is in here. The large, cinder block room is dim, lit only by the pale light filtering in through the high windows on the far wall. It stinks of moldy socks, must, and degrading plastic, and there are boxes everywhere. They fill nearly every shelf, all the way to the ceiling, and it doesn’t take me long to find one labelled “1980s. Scarves. Bucky.”