I settled into Cross’ room, though not in his bed or at his desk. I was in his closet.
I know it sounds creepy, but it’s not. It’s just our thing—or maybe it’s more my thing. If I need to crash somewhere that’s not my own bed, I like his closet. He usually crashes on my floor if he returns the favor. So me being in his closet wasn’t weird—to us.
What was weird was hearing footsteps in the hall a few hours later and two voices entering his room.
“I don’t think we should be in here.”
I lifted my head, letting it rest against the closet wall. I couldn’t place that voice.
“Sshhh! I want to just check it out.”
I recognized that one: Sunday Barnes.
“Oh!” Sunday groaned. “Think we could get into his accounts?”
“Sunday, for real. We should go.” The second voice again.
I still couldn’t pla
