Skylar startled at the sound of locks sliding open. The apartment door jolted loudly, restricted by the interior chain.

“It’s Kylan,” a masculine voice said from the hallway.

Skylar stood from the couch, rushing to the door to let him inside. Her heart raced just from hearing his name. Knowing he was on the other side of the door and home earlier than she’d expected him. She could barely take in a whole breath, the oxygen in the room suddenly inefficient at filling her lungs.

Their eyes met as she opened the door, the lower half of Kylan’s face obscured by the face bandana he always wore. For a gravity-shifting moment, her world tilted on its axis and time and space stopped existing, and she was sure, as she looked into his stormy eyes, that there was no way he couldn’t possibly know she’d thought about nothing but him since he’d been gone. Surely it was written as clear as day across her face, because the emotion was crippling her, and she could just about stand without throwing herself at him and pleading with him not to leave her for so long ever again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. Kylan had this way of looking at Skylar like he was worried about her, even when he probably wasn’t.

“Hey.”

Realizing he wasn’t alone, and she hadn’t actually let him into his own apartment yet, Skylar pulled the door open as far as the hinges would allow, blundering an apology for acting so dense. Her gaze snagged on the girl with the mint-tinted raven hair, her hand entwined with Ivan’s. The girl was pretty. Black-rimmed, icy eyes, a mouth that appeared too wide when her gaze connected with Sky’s and she smiled at her, yet still fit her perfectly proportioned oval face.

“Who’s this?” the girl said, playfulness in her tone as her eyes lazily grazed Skylar’s face.

“Sky, Sasha. Sasha, Sky,” Ivan said.

Skylar closed the door, wishing she hadn’t changed out of her street clothes so soon. Her thin, white tank top didn’t even cover her to her midriff, her white sleep shorts covered in red hearts resting snug underneath her butt cheeks.

She sat on the couch, pressing herself far enough into the armrest, if she were any smaller, she’d fall down the back of it like loose change.

Shrugging out of his jacket and lowering his face mask, Kylan tugged off his hoodie and handed it to Sky, as though reading her discomfort and coming to her rescue once again.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him. She didn’t waste time putting it on, the scent that made her heart flutter creeping into her nostrils and instantly calming her down. The hoodie swamped her smaller frame, but Skylar didn’t care. If she had her way, she’d never take it off.

“So, what’s your story, Sky?”

The words were barely out of Sasha’s mouth before Kylan glared in her direction. “She has no story. None that concerns you.”

Sky cringed on his behalf, his snappish comment sounding too harsh.

“Kylan,” she said, his name softer than a warning but with the same intent. “It’s fine.”

Ivan threw his jacket over the side of the armchair that Sasha was sitting on. “Sash, mind your business. Since when do we have to tell you that?”

“You don’t have to tell me nothing.” Offense carried in Sasha’s tone, but she quickly cleared her expression, extending a long, curious look to Sky. She redirected her gaze when Kylan caught her staring.

Ivan told Sasha to get out of the chair so he could sit down, then pulled her onto his lap, her legs hanging over the armrest and his jacket. Kylan left the room, returning with a six pack of beer and a bottle of Rum that he placed in the middle of the table. In place of clutter and leftover food, the table, like most of the apartment, was clear.

To keep her anxieties at bay, Skylar had tidied and threw out the trash. She’d bought a bottle of spray bleach on one of her previous visits and left it in the under-sink kitchen cabinet. Not so much to her surprise, the contents of the bottle remained almost full. It seemed the only room either Kylan or Ivan had any interest in keeping clean was the bathroom, which she was grateful for. At home, her mother was forever harping on at her dad for not putting the toilet seat down or cleaning up after himself. Like he’d shit all over the walls, or something equally as horrifying. Whenever she heard her mom going off on her dad like that, she put off going to the bathroom for as long as her bladder allowed before bursting, afraid of what she would find if she went in there after him.

Sinking into the couch beside her, Kylan left space for another person between them. Sky couldn’t help feeling hurt, or like a leper, but Kylan never got too close to her. Still, that didn’t stop her from expecting more, even when he showed no signs of giving it to her. He stretched out his legs and spread his thighs, leaning his back against the flat, sagging cushions. He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and pinched the corners with his fingers and thumb. Sky pretended she wasn’t watching his every move, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but him.

Sasha’s hand disappeared under the hem of Ivan’s black T-shirt, creeping higher up his stomach. The intimate touch only reminded Skylar Kylan wasn’t hers to touch, and she could never put her hands on him that freely.

Kylan leaned forward and picked up the TV remote from the coffee table. He glanced at Sky and said, “Which channel?”

“Any,” was Sky’s automatic response.

After flicking through channels, Kylan paused on the pivotal moment in a low-budget horror movie. He put the remote down and settled back into the couch, tucking his hands into his jean’s pockets, his heavy lids cast low over his eyes. Wherever Kylan had been, he’d brought the baggage from the private excursion home with him. If it was an option for Sky to reach over and rub the knots from the muscles in his shoulders, she would. But that was the last thing Kylan would allow her to do, so she pushed the idea from her mind quicker than it had entered. Why she tormented herself like this was beyond ridiculous. She should be satisfied with what he was offering her, forget about wanting more, and just be grateful.

But her head couldn’t talk to her heart and translate the message into one that made sense and had reason. Her heart was serious about him. It also had no choice but to keep the secret and hope that one day the fire burned out on its own.

The sound of Ivan’s voice gripped and pulled her out of her stupor.

“Sky, you want one?” He held up one of the beers from the pack.

Kylan’s response replaced her own, her lips parting and his voice slipping out. “She doesn’t want one.”

Ivan slipped her a look, then took the beer for himself. “More for me.”

As the masked killer claimed another unsuspecting victim in the movie, Sky relaxed, her limbs loosening as she allowed herself more room on the couch, less afraid now her legs to her ass were showing. When the commercials brightened the screen, she said to no one, and in a tone far too breezy, “I could have a beer.”

With the weight of Kylan’s gaze on her, she shuffled to the edge of the couch and took one of the bottles. She twisted off the cap, waiting for Kylan to either snatch the beer from her hand or tell her to put it down. When he did neither of those things, she sat back, tucked her legs underneath her, and took a sip of the cold drink. It slid down her throat like something foul. In three sips, she could already feel the slight buzz. By the time she was finished the bottle, her skin was flush with heat.

Kylan was the only one not touching the alcohol, even though he’d brought it in here. If he’d been anyone else, Sky would have asked him why he wasn’t drinking. Whether there was a reason for it or he just wasn’t in the mood.

The seal on the rum was broken, and Sasha knocked it back like it was cream soda. The drunker she got, the louder she got. Sky drank from the bottle with her, declaring she didn’t want any more when her last mouthful threatened to come back up the same way it went in. Her stomach burned hotter than her skin, a trail of fire from her esophagus to her intestines. Without thinking about it, she peeled off Kylan’s hoodie, the air on her skin doing nothing to cool her down. She stood and walked over to the window, unlocked it and pushed it up. Polluted city air rushed in, instantly refreshing her balmy complexion. She stuck her head outside and gulped at the air, the world below spinning as her eyes tried to focus on the streets below and the crawling traffic.

Skylar wasn’t a drinker and therefore a lightweight. She hadn’t eaten enough earlier in the night to soak up the rum and beer, and her stomach felt achingly empty, nothing but nausea rolling around in there.

A cool hand on her back rubbed slow, purposeful circles, long fingers gently coasting over her spine. She wanted to cry, it felt so good. Surely that was the alcohol making her so dramatic, but Sky couldn’t be sure.

The hand on her back curled around her hip, to her stomach, fanning out over her pierced bellybutton. Kylan pulled her upright, turning her around to face him.

“Did you eat?”

Sky nodded.

“Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

Kylan’s eyes anchored to Sky’s mouth, pausing there long enough to start up that annoyingly frustrating pitter patter in her heart she had zero control over. “Okay,” he said. “Come on.”

She followed him out of the living room, aware that two sets of eyes were on them as they stepped into the short, narrow hallway and then into the kitchen at the end of it. Kylan switched on a light, the bare bulb hanging form the ceiling flickering twice before crackling and illuminating the room in its sickly-yellow, energy-saving glow.

Kylan banged around in the overhead cabinets. “There isn’t much in here. What do you want?”

Fueled by alcohol, Sky boosted herself up onto the kitchen counter, misplacing her left hand and nearly falling off. In seconds, Kylan’s hands were on her outer thighs, helping to steady her and push her back so she was safely sitting on the counter.

She swallowed thickly, her heart lurching into her throat. Forgetting all about her hunger, craving something else entirely, she opened her mouth and asked, “Where do you go at night, Kylan?” Preceded by her bravery, she regretted the question no sooner than it was out there. She’d overstepped and they both knew it.

“Someplace you can’t know about,” he surprised her by saying. His hands remained on her thighs, and her heart continued to race to its own fervent beat.

She guessed she already knew the answer to her own question, but she voiced it anyway. “Because it’s dangerous?”

His gaze turned challenging, the dark metal in his irises swallowing the light jade. “Why do you come here?”

Her silence was an answer all on its own. Point taken.

Cold air replaced the parts of her skin Kylan’s hands had been before he removed them to continue his hunt for food. Sky watched while he pulled together what he needed for a grilled cheese sandwich and then cooked it in the pan. She ate it on the kitchen counter while Kylan washed the few dishes from making her meal.

Putting the last bite of toasted bread and cheese into her mouth, Skylar chewed, swallowed, and then said to Kylan’s back, “Is it a girl?”

His posture stiffened, his hands under the running water momentarily pausing what they were doing. “No,” he said. “There’s no girl.”