Hideaway, Page 3

  “Her?”

  “A woman—dancing,” she answered.

  “Dancing,” I repeated, suddenly a little more interested.

  A secret floor? A secret entrance? A ghost girl?

  I felt like she nodded, but I couldn’t be sure. “After midnight, when nearly every guest is tucked into their rooms and the hotel is quiet and dark, they say you can see her…” she nearly whispered, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Dancing by herself—like a ballerina—down in the dark, moonlit ballroom. Dancing to a haunting lullaby.”

  I watch her lips move, concealed mostly in shadow, but I could make out the outline.

  “Another story tells of a ballerina dancing on the twelfth-floor balcony, too,” she continued. “They could see her from the windows higher up. The light rain, shining as it reflects the city lights, dancing with her as she twirls and leaps in the air. Stories added up over the years, sightings and questions… A girl who never checked in and never checks out, hiding by day and dancing by night.” And then her voice dropped to a whisper, making the hair on my arms stand up. “Always alone, always hiding.”

  It couldn’t be true, but I kind of wanted to believe it was. It was like a treasure hunt, wasn’t it? A girl, concealed from the world, hiding. Right under everyone’s nose.

  “Why are you telling me this story?”

  “Because she’s still there,” she replied. “Hiding on the secret floor. Alone. At least that’s what I like to believe. Secrets and mysteries make life fun, don’t they?”

  I smiled to myself, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees again. “Yeah.”

  Her fingers came up to the screen, and I finally saw a piece of her. Her slender hand, fingertips, and short nails.

  “I like your secrets.” She sounded breathless. “And who are you really hurting by keeping them? Right?”

  The wind and water surrounded me, and I realized that’s where the scent had come from. I’d smelled her as soon as I stepped into the confessional. She was already here.

  “Do you listen to other peoples’ confessions often?” I asked, somewhat amused.

  “Sometimes.”

  Her reply was so quick, I couldn’t help but admire her. I liked that she felt so at ease being honest, and I kind of hoped it was because of me.

  “I lie, too,” she offered.

  “To whom?”

  “To my family,” she said. “I lie to them all the time.”

  “What do you lie to them about?”

  “Anything I need to keep them happy. I tell them I’m fine when I’m not. I see my mother, and I’m not supposed to. I lie about my struggle to be loyal.”

  “Is it important to keep the truth from them?”

  “As necessary as their desire to know my every step, yes.” Her fingers drifted down the screen, her nails scraping it barely. “They still see me as a child. Incapable.”

  “You sound like you might be,” I mused. “Young, I mean.”

  A scoff escaped her lips, challenging me. “I was ancient at six. Can you hear the sound of that?”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure her out. Her voice, everything she said, who she was… Ancient at six. She’d grown up too soon. That’s what she’d meant.

  Leaning back again, I watched her dark form shift on the other side of the screen. I wanted to see her, but I didn’t want to stop talking, either. Not just yet.

  She said she couldn’t talk to me if I saw her. Did I know her then?

  “We’re only ever good, because there are consequences,” I told her. “Take those away, and everyone shows their true self. Kind of like taking off a mask.”

  “Or putting one on,” she replied. “After all, there’s freedom in hiding, isn’t there?”

  Yeah, I guess—

  “Do you like the feel of a mask?” she chirped, changing the subject.

  It was kind of out of the blue, and my heart skipped a beat. “Why would you ask me that?”

  She knew who I was, didn’t she? She knew it was Devil’s Night.

  “I like the feel of one,” she said. “Like this screen and the darkness. They’re kind of like masks, aren’t they?”

  Kind of.

  “I could be anyone.” Her fragile voice smoothed over, turning playful. “I could be a girl you grew up with. A classmate. Someone’s little sister. The kid you used to babysit when you were sixteen…”

  The corner of my lips lifted, and I entertained the idea. Although I didn’t recognize her voice, that didn’t mean I didn’t know her. She could be a girl I passed in the halls every day. Someone I never gave a second glance to. Or she could be a buddy’s girlfriend or one of the gardener’s kids. Who knew?

  “And you could be anyone, too,” she pondered. “A friend’s boyfriend, a teacher I had a crush on, or one of my father’s friends. You could say anything to me. I could say anything to you. And there’s no embarrassment, because we never have to face each other. Not if we don’t want to.”

  I leaned closer again, trying to breathe in more of her scent.

  I wanted to see her. I definitely had to see her.

  “I’ll keep your secrets,” I told her. “No matter who you are.”

  “You are one of my secrets,” she shot back. “I’m trying to steal you, but I wish I didn’t want to.”

  “What does that mean?” Steal me?

  “So, what do you like to watch?” she asked.

  “Huh?” She changed the subject again. She was moving a mile a minute, and I was having a hard time keeping up.

  “In your confession, you said you like to watch. Watch what?”

  I chewed the corner of my mouth, hesitant. “I think you know,” I replied, caging. “Figure it out, big girl.”

  She laughed for the first time. It was this perfect, innocent sound, and my hands hummed with the urge to touch her all of a sudden.

  “And what if I like to watch, too?” she teased. “Show me with your words.”

  “I can’t.” I looked down, embarrassed despite myself.

  “Please,” she asked again, her voice dropping to a whisper, and I swore I could feel the heat of her breath on my face. “Talk to me. Tell me what you don’t tell anyone else.”

  I shook my head, struggling. The way she talked…. Sometimes it was like a woman, straddling my lap with her lips inches from mine.

  But just now, it was like a little girl, desperate for a treat.

  “When was your last confession, little one?” I prodded, inching further into her territory.

  “I’ve never had one.”

  “Aren’t you Catholic?”

  “No.”

  Then why was she here?

  But then again, why was she in the priest’s chamber, too? “You’re a little mystery yourself, aren’t you?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

  “Come on. What do you like to watch?” she repeated, pushing me.

  I opened my mouth, but just ended up letting out a sigh.

  Jesus. What do I like to watch? I can’t tell her that. Fuck.

  I closed my eyes. I needed to leave. What if she knew me? What if I went to school with her? What if she was someone I’d like? She wouldn’t want to know this shit.

  But as if she knew my fear, she told me, “Don’t be afraid. I’m already imagining the worst, and I’m still here, right?”

  I shook my head, feeling stupid, but I laughed anyway. “I like…” I ran a hand up and down my face. “One of my friends had a girl in the media room this summer,” I said, starting over. “It was late, we were all really lit, and the mood was getting heated. He started kissing her and feeling her up, nothing I haven’t seen before, but she would look over at me, probably expecting that I would join in, but…”

  I inhaled a deep breath. I didn’t feel like I was safe right now. I didn’t feel like I was hiding in this dark, fucking confessional with a screen between me and this girl I may or may not know. I should shut up.

  But part of me didn’t want to. Every wo
rd brought me closer to the edge. Closer to falling. I wanted to fall.

  I continued. “Something kept me rooted in my seat this time. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, but I couldn’t move, either.”

  The girl on the other side remained quiet, but I knew she was still there.

  “I didn’t want to move,” I confessed. “And she couldn’t take her eyes off me, either. She straddled him, fucking him, but her eyes were on me the whole time.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering the sight of her grinding on him. But it was all for me. Everything she did was to keep me watching. I controlled her.

  “I could see her chest moving faster with her breathing, the sweat on her neck, her nervous eyes…. She didn’t know what I was going to do. She didn’t know if I liked what I was seeing or if I was going to pounce at any second. She was scared. And excited.”

  She had no idea what I was thinking. How I liked what she was doing for me without laying a hand on me. I wasn’t communicating with my hands or my mouth, just my eyes all over her body, and it drove her crazy not knowing. God, she loved it.

  “He fucked her,” I said, “but I was the one who made her come.”

  I realized my pants felt tighter, and I reached down to adjust myself, grunting under my breath at the ache.

  “Sordid, right?” I said. “Disgusting, sleazy, vile…”

  “Yeah.” But I heard a smile in her voice. “So, what did you do about it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her fingertips pressed against the screen again. “You must’ve been turned on after that. What did you do?”

  I held in my nervous laugh. She didn’t miss a beat, did she? “You’re skinning me alive right now, kid.”

  A breathy laugh escaped her, and I could nearly make out her lips close to the screen.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Old enough to have seen and heard worse,” she replied. “Don’t worry. Now what did you do after that?”

  “I can’t…” I breathed out. “I didn’t…. I didn’t do anything.”

  But she waited. She knew I was lying.

  I licked my dry lips, dropping my voice so low, I didn’t know if she could hear me. “I didn’t wait for my friends to get up and leave in the car to go get food,” I told her. “And I didn’t wait for the girl to trail down the hallway to the bathroom or for her to step into the shower. I didn’t follow her or turn off the lights, scaring her…”

  The memory of her gasp rang in my ears, and the world tilted in front of me. The dark bathroom, the swaying shower curtain, the steam I could already smell…

  “It’s okay,” Mystery Girl said when I remained quiet.

  “I didn’t like frightening her or making her scream.” I clenched my teeth, dropping my head into my hand. “Or climbing into that shower and grabbing her and feeling her come apart in my hands…”

  My fingers slid through my hair, shame burning my face but also a weight lifting off my shoulders. If this kid didn’t run, then maybe I wasn’t so bad, right?

  Right?

  “And I didn’t love every second inside of her tight body—”

  “No, don’t,” she urged, stopping me. “Don’t say anymore. Please.”

  I raised my head, my insides shrinking. “I’m scaring you.”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Yes,” she finally said. “Yes, you scare me. But I like it. I’m just…”

  “Just what?”

  “I’m just…” She paused, breathing erratically. “Just jealous.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you hunted her.” Her pale forehead leaned into the screen, and I caught a few strands of rich, dark hair. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you see me just yet. Maybe I should let you hunt me, too. Sounds like you’re good at it.”

  I leaned back up, a smile tugging my lips. I was no longer embarrassed. Keeping my eyes on her, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and stuck the sharp one to my car into one of the holes of the wicker screen. Before she even had time to rear back, I tugged the key downward, ripped a slit in the screen, and pushed my hand through, catching her shirt in my fist just as she tried to escape. I pulled her forward and leaned in, smelling the wind on her skin and feeling how small and light she was. I barely flexed a muscle, holding her.

  “What makes you think I haven’t been doing that this whole time?” I teased. “Do you think that little story is as naughty as I can get? Should I tell you about last summer and running into my former babysitter one night who was home from med school? She liked how I’d grown up.”

  She breathed in hard, shallow breaths, and her hands came up, clasping mine. “Yes.”

  I narrowed my eyes, releasing her sweatshirt and, instead, raising my hand to her face. At my touch, she shivered, but she didn’t back away.

  The smooth skin felt like water as I grazed my fingertips over her sharp jaw and up her cheek. I drifted past her delicate ear lobe and into her hair, deciphering the softness and the length she hid. Fabric brushed against the back of my hand, and I realized she was wearing a hood.

  Her hair was tucked behind her, and everything was chilled. Her face, her hands, her hair…even her ear felt like an icicle.

  “You’re so cold,” I said.

  But she turned her face into my hand, her hot breath falling into my palm. “I don’t feel cold.”

  Her lips barely touched my hand, and I wanted to go the extra centimeter—reach closer and touch them, but I didn’t. She wasn’t getting away from me, and I wanted to drag this out. Sliding my hand around the back of her neck, I held her and grazed my thumb down the front of her throat, feeling her swallow.

  She was so still, as if she were really afraid. A sound broke from somewhere in the church, and I briefly registered a basketball bouncing. After years on the court, I knew the sound like it was my mother’s voice.

  “It’s Devil’s Night, and the night is young,” she finally spoke up. “Maybe you’ll find someone else to scare tonight.”

  I tightened my grip. “And if I want to scare you?”

  I felt her body shake with a laugh. “Then maybe I’ll be around,” she said playfully, pulling away. “Happy Hunting.”

  And I heard a shuffle and saw light pour into her little room before the door slammed shut, making it dark again.

  “Hey.” I pulled my hand back in. “Hey!”

  I stood up and threw open the curtain, walking out and looking around before opening the door. The priest’s chamber was empty. I whipped around and scanned the church, noticing only a few people in the pews, none looking like a teenage girl. Walking over to the row of columns near the windows, I looked around them, not seeing anyone there, either.

  “What the hell?” Where did she go?

  The bouncing sound registered again, and I looked up, seeing Damon round the last row of pews and walk toward me. He must’ve just finished up with Beir.

  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked through the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

  I straightened and closed my mouth, trying to breathe slower. “Nothing.”

  I had no idea how to start explaining what just happened. Plus, it wasn’t wise to put a girl on his radar if you planned on keeping her to yourself. At least, at first.

  Holding the ball at his side, he leaned down and lit his cigarette using one of the prayer candles.

  “Come on, knock it off,” I scolded, still trying not to look around for the girl. I still felt her there.

  Damon rose, the end of his cigarette burning orange and a puff of smoke drifting up into the air. “Like we give a shit.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew out.

  “But it’s insulting to people who do. No wonder you’re in confession every fucking week.” I walked around him, growing impatient and not knowing why.

  Damon did everything he could to be an asshole, but that was him. He was always the same.

  And suddenly, I didn’t want the same old shit tonight for some reas
on. I didn’t want him to be him or me to be me. I didn’t want to hide anything tonight.

  It’s Devil’s Night, she’d said. She knew what we got up to. She knew me. If she didn’t find me, I’d find her.

  Kai

  Present

  I grabbed a couple water bottles from the ice bowl next to the towels and walked toward the steam room, the wet heat snaking up my nostrils as I opened the frosted glass door and walked in.

  Hunter-Bailey Men’s Club was quiet this time of the day. And no matter how busy my friends and I were—or how hungover—we usually found ourselves here most mornings.

  I looked up, instantly spotting Michael sitting two steps up on the marble seating that snaked around the room, while Will sat hunched over to my right one step down. He lifted his head, and I could see last night’s indiscretions written all over his pale and weary face. Dark circles sat under his eyes, and he dropped his head again, grumbling, “Motherfucker.”

  I shook my head, holding out a bottle of water. “You need new vices.”

  The asshole was drunk every day. And to add insult to injury, he was blowing through every cent his asinine, indulgent parents gave him, paying for any one of three things to which he’d dedicated his life: drinking, women, and, as I was starting to suspect, pills and powder.

  He pulled the water out of my hand and held the chilled bottle to his brow, his shallow breathing growing shaky.

  Taking my bottle, I climbed the step and sat down next to Michael. His back and head rested against the wall, and his eyes were closed as steam billowed in the air around us. Dim lighting cast a soft, blue glow throughout the room, and I felt a trickle of sweat already sliding down my chest toward my towel.

  “How are the renovations going on at St. Killian’s?” I asked him.

  But he shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t talk to me about fucking renovations right now.”

  I narrowed my gaze, seeing his eyes open and his jaw flex as he stared ahead. He was angry? With me?

  And then suspicion hit me. The night before last and what happened at the dojo with Rika.

  Great. Not that I was in the right by any means, but I trusted her to not tell Michael every damn thing.

  I let out a breath. “Man, I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to hurt her. I—”