The way the building is mapped out, you wouldn’t hear the penthouse on the other side, and I know I’m alone because JP said he was going out. So, does that mean . . . is someone in here?
My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I creep forward, listening, waiting . . .
“Urggghhh.”
There it is again.
This time, the sound sends a chill down my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
That isn’t a normal building creaking sound. That’s a sound that comes from a human. Or a suffering animal.
Or a suffering human.
Something is suffering.
Creeping forward, I try to stay as quiet as I can so I can locate the sound.
“Uhhhhhhhrrrrrr.”
My head snaps to the right, down the hallway toward JP’s room.
Since the only light on in the main living space is in the kitchen, I can see that there’s no light showing through the crack under JP’s door.
So he’s definitely not home.
Which means . . . there’s either a murderer in there, a suffering animal, or a ghost.
I shuffle to the kitchen, keeping my eyes on his door the entire time as I haphazardly reach for a wooden spoon from the utensils crock on the counter. Spoon in hand, I creep toward his hallway, only to stop when I hear the noise again.
“Frrrrrrrreeerm.”
Oh God.
Oh God.
OH GOD!
I can practically taste my heartbeat as I move closer. My pulse zaps against my neck, stiffening my shoulders. Why am I doing this alone? I should wait for JP to get home.
“Uhhhhhh.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and nervously run in place, my feet lightly padding on the floor.
Turn around, you idiot, this is how people in scary movies die. They investigate the sound. But just like every other moron in a scary movie, I don’t run to my room and call for help. I don’t even grab a freaking knife.
Nope, manned with a wooden spoon—the worst it can do is toss a salad—I slide closer and closer to his room until I hear it . . . a constant pumping sound. Like . . . oh God, like someone is getting stabbed.
“Fuuuuuu.”
Stabbed!
They’re getting stabbed in his room right now. Wait . . . what if JP is getting stabbed and I’m just standing here, outside of his door with a wooden spoon, doing nothing? What if he came home without me knowing and was attacked?
My nipples grow hard in fear.
I nearly choke on my saliva.
And before I can stop myself, I pull down on the doorknob, then kick the door open and accompany it with a warrior scream that nearly deafens me.
“EEEEEEE AHHHHHHHHH!” I yell, wielding my spoon at the air.
“What the fuck!” JP’s voice calls out.
My eyes land on the bed, where he pops up, completely and utterly naked . . . and holding a pillow in front of his crotch.
What is . . .
Oh no.
Oh God.
OH, DEAR HEAVEN.
That wasn’t a suffering animal.
Or a suffering human.
Or a ghost.
Or a stabbing.
That was . . .
Oh, sweet lord, that was JP jacking off.
The spoon falls from my hand as I quickly cover my eyes and spin away.
“Oh, wow . . . sorry. You’re, uh, you’re home, having private time.” Eyes still covered, I head in the direction of the door, but run right into the wall, banging my nose and forehead on the hard surface. “Oh, fuck,” I say as I feel around with my other hand, trying to find the doorway.
I turn, spin.
Lose track of where I’m going.
And before I know it, my hand is caressing a very stiff body.
“Ahh,” I yell again, dropping the hand covering my eyes only to find my other hand passing over JP’s nipples. “Oh shit, sorry. That’s your, uh, that’s your man chest. Your nipple. I was just rubbing your nipple. Not on purpose. Not because I wanted to.”
“Kelsey, what the fuck are you doing in here?”
“Great question.” I offer him a thumbs up. “And I have an equally great explanation. You see, I went to grab my dinner when I heard this noise. I thought it was a ghost or a murderer, or even a suffering animal, like a squirrel caught in a wall or something like that. You never know in these old buildings. Anyway, I thought I’d check it out, and then when I got closer, I thought you were being stabbed. It really sounded like a stabbing, not that I listen to stabbing noises, but, you know, the movies prepare you for such sounds, so I came in here, attempting to scare away the stabber.”
He stares at me, his face falling flat. “With a wooden spoon?”
“I didn’t say I was being smart about it. I was just trying to be a hero without a plan. I see now that maybe that wasn’t the best idea.”