Archenemies (Renegades #2)(87)

He turned and she followed after him, frowning. Adrian was a lot of things, but clumsy wasn’t one of them. It was difficult to imagine him making such a mistake.

They passed an oak staircase that curved upward to the second floor and an arched doorway through which she could see a grouping of chairs and sofas and a piano in the corner, though even from here she could see a layer of dust on it.

“Is that a parlor?” said Nova.

“No, it’s a formal parlor,” said Adrian. “My dads hired a fancy interior designer to put it together a few years ago, and I don’t think we’ve used it since. They insist it will come in handy, though, once we start inviting foreign dignitaries to visit and they need a place to ‘host’ them.” He made quotes in the air.

Nova expected to be taken to a kitchen, but instead Adrian led her down a narrow staircase into some sort of basement. The aroma of cinnamon grew thicker around them.

Nova realized with a start, as her foot landed on plush carpet, that she was in his room.

His bedroom.

She must have hesitated in the doorway a second too long, because when Adrian turned back and noticed her expression, he tensed himself. “We can take these back upstairs, if you want,” he said, lifting an aluminum tin full of sticky-sweet cinnamon buns. “I was just going to … um”—he gestured toward a shut door on the other side of the room—“work on this project … thing. But we could go watch a movie or something…” He hesitated, a crease forming between his brows. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I just … wanted to see you,” said Nova. Adrian’s eyes widened behind his glasses, almost imperceptibly. She had been practicing those words the entire walk, trying to find a way she could say them without blushing. She was not entirely successful. “Are your dads home?”

He shook his head. “Still at headquarters.”

Good. She would have full access to search the house, though she hoped the medallion would be found here, in his room. She just had to knock Adrian out first.

“Is everything okay?” Adrian asked.

“Yeah. Yeah,” she said. “Just … curious. A movie sounds nice.” She meant it. A movie was easy. Comfortable. Completely without pressure.

Not to mention that people fell asleep during movies all the time, and there was nothing at all suspicious about it. All she needed was an excuse to put her hand on his. A brush of a finger against his knuckle. That was all she needed.

“Okay. Cool. There’s a TV upstairs.”

Nova nudged her chin toward the TV set on top of a small entertainment console. “That one doesn’t work?”

“Uh … it does. I just … didn’t want to assume … I mean, whatever you want to do.”

For the first time in what felt like days, Nova felt the tension in her chest start to loosen. She had been frustrated over her failed attempts to flirt with Adrian, to get close to him. But she’d just gotten here, and it was obvious that her presence flustered him.

The thought of it sent a satisfying surge through her veins. That must be what Honey felt like, to know the sort of power she wielded over people. Nova even dared a small, teasing smile, and thought Honey might have been proud.

She took a step closer to Adrian. “Are you not allowed to have girls in your room?”

He chuckled. Then he took a step back, though it was subtle. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one.”

Nova flushed, that moment of confidence gone as quickly as it had come. “Well. I trust you not to try anything … inappropriate.”

He chuckled, but it was as awkward as Nova felt, and Nova was suddenly reminded of all the times she’d practically thrown herself at him these past weeks, and how he’d ignored every one of her advances.

She tucked her hands into her pockets. She would wait until they were sitting down. It would be easier to find an excuse to touch him then. It would be easier to be bold when she wasn’t looking him in the eye.

Adrian grabbed the remote and the TV flickered to life. Nova started to pace around the room. It was a lot more casual than the house above. His bed; the blankets tussled and half draped across the floor; a small, worn couch; a painting easel and a desk; the entertainment center; and a bookshelf in the corner overflowing with comics, drawing guides, and an assortment of sketchbooks. A handful of drawings and video game posters were tacked to the walls.

“This whole huge house, and they make you sleep in the basement?”

“It was better than one of the upstairs rooms. That’s where the murders happened.” He glanced at her. “You know about the murders?”

“I read about them. On the plaque.” And I’m pretty sure Ace was here that night.

Adrian nodded. “Besides, this way I get twelve hundred square feet to myself.”

“This,” said Nova, gesturing, “is not twelve hundred square feet.”

Adrian pointed at a door. “Bathroom through there, then a bunch of unfinished basement space. And”—he gestured at a second door on the far wall—“that’s my art studio.”

“You have an art studio?”

“It’s a big house.”

“Can I see it?”

Adrian opened his mouth, but shut it again, hesitant.

“What?” said Nova. “Have you been practicing nude portraits or something?”