The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #5)(50)

“That would be fucking awesome.”

“But then you owe me a favor,” she clarifies.

“Deal.”

She stands, fishing a phone out of her back pocket. The light illuminates her face, and I can finally see it clearly in the dark. “Give me his number and I’ll text him.”

I grab my cell, too. Pull up JB’s contact and tap for his number. “Ready?”

“Go.”

“555-1254. His name is JB.”

The girl chuckles. “Oh, I know what his name is. We know allll about this kid, down to his weight and shoe size.” Okay, that’s just weird. “Sybil has the entire 411 on him; memorized his bio on the wrestling website.” Pause. “She’s not a stalker or anything.”

“Hey, even if she was,” I joke, “I’d still be giving you his number right now.”

This gets me a laugh from Skylar, and…

“What’s your name?” I ask, walking toward her and offering my hand through her bathroom window. “Sorry we haven’t met. I’m Abe, and this is Skylar.”

“Rachel. Nice to finally meet you. We watch you a lot. Did you know we can see straight into your bedroom?”

No. I. Did. Not.

I knew I could see them, but it hadn’t occurred to me for one second that they could see me. Or that they would watch me.

“You can?”

Rachel laughs. “Ohhh yeah, we sure can. We surrre can.”

Translation: we can, and we do.

Next to me, Skylar lets out an, “Oh jeez.”

Rachel goes on. “You should probably think about getting drapes. We can’t see your bed—”

Thank God.

“—although Felicity has tried, but we can see pretty much everything else you do. Rebecca loves watching you do push-ups, and sometimes Fel will sit on the toilet to watch you sit at your desk. She totally digs your nerdy glasses. So yeah, none of us is complaining about the view.”

Christ, that’s a little creepy. Isn’t it? Am I wrong to be a bit skeeved out?

My mind reels, trying to remember what kind of other shit I do while I’m in my room alone besides sleep, eat, and jerk off—which I usually only ever do in bed…I think?

Shit. There was that one time I masturbated in the rocking chair, but that was during the day between classes and practice.

I think?

Fuck.

“We don’t mind the show.”

Skylar does not need to hear this so I steer her back toward my window, praying that when I shove her through it, she doesn’t fall onto my desk and break my laptop. Or make a shit ton of noise. “Okay, well, it was great chatting with you Rachel. Buh-bye now.”

“So good meeting you in person, Abe.” She spares Skylar a glance. “You too, new girlfriend. Don’t worry, we won’t watch you.”

Oh my god, I do not even believe her.

I have to get Skylar the hell out of here before this girl embarrasses me any further.

“Hey Abe? Love those red Valentine’s Day boxers,” Rachel teases. “Oh, come on! Don’t look so tense about it. Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time.”

But I do have red Valentine’s Day boxers—don’t ask me why my mom sent them last year for the holiday, along with a pack of red boxer briefs—and the fact that Rachel has seen them without me knowing it makes my watching their silhouettes through their sheer curtains child’s play.

Wait. Did they know I was watching them? They had to know.

Fuck my life.

“No worries, wipe that look off your face,” Rachel goes on, phone in hand, face lit up by its glowing screen. She’s tapping away. “I’ll shoot JB a text right now and make it convincing, and he’ll be out of your place in a few minutes. Guaranteed.”

I don’t know what she’s going to say to him; I can only imagine.

“Remind me to get blinds first thing in the morning,” I mutter to Skylar.

“Uh, in the morning? How about right now?” she quips, chagrined, foot already hovering above my cupped hands as I squat down, forming a step. “The stores are still open. We can run to Walmart.”

“Not the worst idea.” I boost her easily and wait as she gets her bearings, straddling the window ledge, one leg feeling around in my dark room for footing.

She has great calves.

“Stop doing that—you’re distracting me! You want me to faceplant into your floor?” She laughs as she removes her leg from my wandering hands. “Okay. Let me go hit the light.”

“No don’t!” I’m practically shouting, hissing into the pitch-black space between the houses. “Leave it off, he might see the light under the door.”

Loud sigh. “Calm down, I will.”

“Do you hear anything?” I ask. “Anything at all?”

“Like what?” Her voice comes out of the dark shadows of my bedroom. I can hear her feeling around, bumping into things.

“Like, oh—I don’t know, the front door opening? Jack leaving?”

“Hold on, let me check.”

Silence.

More silence.

Then,

Skylar reappears, staring down at me from my window, hair hanging in sheets around her beautiful face. “Yup, I think I hear something. It sounds like someone by the front door may be putting boots on?” She extends a hand to hoist me up, but I got this covered. “Why don’t you wait for him to leave and come in the front door?”