16
Wick
Saturday morning, I crept from my room just after five in a cotton shirt, shorts, and running shoes. I tried not to look at the closed door that led into Haven’s room, but I nearly walked into the wall I was staring at it so hard.
The apartment was quiet; she was no doubt asleep in there, which got my mind to spinning. What did she sleep in? Full-on long pants with a matching conservative T-shirt, shorty-shorts with one of those slinky tight tops, a silky nighty, nothing at all?
I began to sweat.
This was f*****g unreal. Haven Gamble was sleeping in my apartment, hell, living in my apartment. I still couldn’t quite wrap my brain around that.
Tiptoeing as quietly as I could, I locked the front door behind me, staring at it one last time, wondering if she’d still be here when I
