EDGE

I shouldn’t have gone inside. That’s a fact. I admit it.

But admitting a fact doesn't make it wrong.

His door doesn’t close properly—I noticed that a week ago. He always double-checks the lock, yet he still jerks the handle too hard, as if he’s expecting resistance. People do that when they need confirmation that a boundary exists.

I just wanted to make sure it was there. Or that it wasn't. It’s useful information.

The house is quiet. Not empty—just quiet. The silence is tucked into the corners like things that haven't been touched in a long time. I can clearly smell him; his scent is everywhere—minty, with the lingering bitterness of cigarette smoke. He smokes too much.

I don’t have much time; he’ll be back soon. My knees have started to tremble treacherously. I felt much braver when I was breaking in. But now, after standing in his living room for five minutes, I’m starting to think this wasn't such a great idea.

I’m not searching. I know where his room is. There are too few doors here to make a mistake.

I push one of them open and freeze on the threshold. I look around—everything is so him. Eerie, dark, heavy. And that smell…

Damn.

I take a step inside, then another. As I pass his dresser, my fingers graze the surface, and I flop onto the bed without thinking. It’s large, looking soft but feeling slightly firm beneath me. I take a deep breath, inhaling him. The pillow—I bunch the fabric in my hands and slowly bury my face in it. The scent becomes sharper, closer, almost unbearable.

A thick, slow warmth spreads through my body. He lies here almost every night, exactly where I am now. God, the thoughts of what he does here at night are driving me insane. I wonder what he thinks about when he does it. I feel a heavy ache in my lower abdomen—a rising heat that sparks just from thinking about him, from breathing the air in his room. Remembering his gaze…

My hand slides down to the edge of my shorts. Pulling them back slightly, I slip my fingers beneath the elastic of my underwear. The heat flares through my entire body.

A sharp sound from the street.

I flinch and bolt upright, my heart hammering too loudly. I listen.

Nothing. Just a car passing by.

I exhale, but relief doesn't follow. I’m beginning to realize where I am and what I’m doing. I need to leave. Now.

But I don’t move. My time is running out. Five minutes. I’ll just lie here for five minutes. God, how long I’ve wanted this…

I need to fix the bed, or he’ll notice someone was here. Standing up quietly, I straighten everything.

The faint sound of a key turning in the lock doesn’t register at first.

Then my heart starts pounding so hard it feels like it’ll burst through my chest and end up on the floor. Panic surges. He’s going to walk in and find me here. What do I say?

“Hi, Blake, I thought I saw someone so I broke into your fucking house to check.” Fuck. What the… he’ll kill me!

I grab my head in my hands. Think, Sloan, think, think! I hear the door close and then his voice. He’s talking to someone.

Damn, he’s not alone. Now I’m truly dead.

I drop to the floor instantly, trying not to make a sound, and scramble under the bed. God, I’m inside someone else's life now. One wrong move and it’s all over. What a fool I am. What happens if he catches me?

I bite my lip until I taste blood.

I don’t think I’m even breathing. I see his feet; he’s walking straight toward the bed. His clothes hit the floor.

He’s undressing…

“I’ll jump in the shower and then we go? Head straight to Andrew’s after?”

“No problem, man. Yeah, let’s head there. This party’s gonna be insane. So much tail, Blake…”

Great. Silas is with him—that prick is even more trouble. If Blake catches me, I’m in trouble, but if Silas finds me, my life will be hell until graduation.

Blake chuckles softly. That low sound makes a warmth bloom in my chest.

There’s one upside: he’s going into the shower now, then they’ll leave, and I can get out of here without being caught.

God… every step he takes, every sound he makes, echoes in my ears like a bell. I’m shaking—either from the adrenaline spiking in my blood or from Blake being so dangerously close.

I have no idea how long I’ll have to lie here. But I hope I make it out without the heart attack I’m currently bordering on.

I don’t know how much time has passed; it feels like thirty minutes. Blake left the house a minute ago, but I still don’t dare crawl out of my hiding spot. I think I should stay here for another ten minutes just to be sure he doesn't realize he forgot something and come back for it.

After waiting a bit longer, I cautiously crawl out, creep out of the room on my tiptoes, and peek through the window to make sure his car is gone.

Finally, I can breathe.

Leave. Now.

I go to the window I climbed through—it’s still open. Lucky he didn't notice. I swing my leg over and slip outside.

I run.

I’ve never run so fast.

Euphoria rushes through my body, and I laugh. I don’t know why. At my own stupidity. At the fact that I dared to do it. Or maybe just out of joy that I wasn't caught.

If Alex finds out, she’ll kill me.

Back then, I didn’t know that was the first time I’d cross the line.

And it certainly wouldn't be the last…