Chapter Nine JaneIt’s ten thirty and I’m about ready to call it a night when there’s a knock on my door.
Did I order room service and forget? I kind of hope so. I wouldn’t say no to a late-night snack, even if I am halfway through brushing my teeth. I spit toothpaste foam into the sink, turn off the faucet, and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me,” a male voice says.
My heart leaps in my chest. Wes. He’s cutting it close to curfew, and I’m not exactly looking like a beauty queen in my pajama shorts and oversized Hawks shirt, but the thought of seeing him sends a tingle of excitement up my spine.
When I open the door, I’m reassured to see that Wes is rocking his PJs too—baggy black sweatpants hang off his lean hips, and his round biceps bulge out of the fitted
