Though Dave was standing by the door, pretending to scroll on his phone and nod at Josh, I could feel his eyes on me.
Like, really on me. My stomach flipped, my palms were sweating, and suddenly I felt like a cartoon character with steam coming out of my ears because I was about to get caught doing something I probably shouldn’t have.
I tiptoed toward the door, trying to make myself small, invisible.
But of course, in true Elena fashion, my foot hit the edge of the rug with a loud thump.
My eyes practically shot open in horror. Dave glanced up from his phone, of course he did, and raised a brow.
"Where are you going?" he asked, calm but suspicious.
Oh. Crap. Right. Need an excuse.
An excuse that should be believable, which he would believe without batting his eye.
Something casual. Something that doesn’t scream, I’m sneaking into Nicole’s room to check his collarbone.
"Uh..." I mumbled, trying to make my voice sound normal, "I... uh... I’m... thirsty." Smooth.
Totally normal. Totally believable.
Like anyone in the world casually wandering the hallway to get a glass of water at 3:30 in the afternoon.
Dave didn’t move, just stared, that suspicious eyebrow raised higher. "Thirsty?"
"Yes!" I snapped a little too quickly, then tried to calm myself. "I mean... yeah... water... maybe juice... I don’t know. Something. Hydration is important, right?"
He smirked. That smug smirk that makes my brain leak out my ears. "We just ate two hours prior."
My mouth opened and closed like a fish that had just realized it was on land.
"So? Does... does hydration have a schedule? Do you have a hydration clock somewhere that I should know about?"
Dave blinked at me, his lips twitching, clearly enjoying my meltdown. "Elena, you had soup. Soup is literally water with flavor."
I squinted at him. "Soup doesn’t count! Soup is... hot food pretending to be liquid. Totally different category. I read that somewhere. Maybe."
His eyes sparkled with amusement, which made my blood pressure skyrocket.
This was not the time for him to find me cute and ridiculous.
A dangerous, sneaky, very important mission that required him to stop grilling me like I was some kid trying to sneak cookies at midnight.
"Uh-huh," he said finally, still leaning lazily against the doorframe, phone dangling in his hand like he had all the time in the world.
"So, suddenly you’re going on a life-or-death hydration journey? At nine in the evening?"
"Yes!" I threw my hands up. "Dehydration is the number one silent killer, you know!"
Dave raised an eyebrow. "Really. That’s your defense?"
My brain scrambled for backup excuses. "Okay, fine, maybe I’m... also a little hungry."
His smirk deepened. "Hungry?"
"Yes! Hungry! You know, stomach growling, that whole situation. Maybe... I want... a tomato sandwich?"
"You hate tomatoes in your sandwiches." Sh*t, he was right, I was always picky about tomatoes. I used to pick out tomatoes from my burger whenever we skipped school together.
But that was almost like a decade ago. How does he still remember?
God, lady. This was not the time to think about it.
Snapping out of those ridiculous thoughts, I managed to think of a reply when I shot back, pointing at him dramatically.
"Well, maybe I’m evolving, Dave! Maybe I’m trying new things! Personal growth! Ever heard of it?"
Josh, who had been standing nearby, glanced between us like he was watching the world’s weirdest sitcom. He coughed into his fist and muttered, "I think she had officially lost it."
I ignored him, glaring at Dave. "Look, are you going to stand there like my food police, or are you going to let me pass so I can... hydrate and grow as a person?"
Dave tilted his head, clearly fighting a grin. "You’re hiding something."
My heart jumped into my throat. "What? No! Why would you...That’s ridiculous!"
My voice squeaked like a rusty door hinge. "I’m just... craving... fridge light. You know? That soft glow? It’s... therapeutic."
Dave finally chuckled, that low, infuriating sound that always makes me want to smack him and kiss him at the same time. "Fridge light therapy, huh? That’s new."
"Yes. Cutting edge," I mumbled, crossing my arms, trying to look confident even though my face was probably red enough to power a lighthouse.
He leaned forward just slightly, enough to make me nervous. "Elena."
"Dave." I mimicked his tone, hoping sarcasm would cover my panic.
He studied me for a moment, eyes narrowed like he could read every single thought running through my brain.
He had this uncanny way of knowing when I was up to something. My stomach flipped again.
"Fine," he said finally, stepping aside just a little. "Go. But don’t take too long. And don’t wander around anywhere else."
I am not a child, you psycho. I grumbled inside my head, but in front, I just had a simple smug pasted on my lips.
"Ha! See? You do get it." I tried to sound smart, but it came out way too high-pitched.
I practically bolted down the hall, muttering under my breath.
"Okay, Elena, breathe. That was fine. Totally fine. He’s not suspicious. Nope. Not at all. Definitely bought it. Smooth like butter."
Of course, in reality, I knew he hadn’t bought it. Not one bit.
Dave was letting me go because he was curious to see how badly I was going to mess this up.
Still, my legs carried me forward, each step heavy and loud in my own ears.
My heart pounded so hard I swore it would echo down the hallway. The shadows seemed darker, the air thicker. Every little creak in the floorboards made me jump.
But I didn’t stop because, as ridiculous as I had just looked back there, I had a goal. A reckless, half-baked, probably-terrible goal.
And no smug Dave smirk was going to stop me from seeing the truth.