Which only leaves Levi.
“She wouldn’t,” I whisper, but already, I know that she would. She’s just like Eliza: drawn to the risk of him like adrenaline, like pheromones, some chemical reaction that leaves her helplessly high. The fact that he’s been dubbed dangerous, off-limits, is only making him more desirable to her, the same way Eliza would flaunt herself in front of her window. The way she was still out with him that night, even after we found the proof of what he did, who he was: the missing picture, her open door. The stomach-churning smell of him everywhere we looked.
I think about going back to my room, getting in bed, trying to forget about it all the same way I tried to forget about those videos on my phone, when I hear a noise again—but this time, it’s different. Unmistakable.
This time, it’s coming from above. A heavy thump like someone walking on the roof.
CHAPTER 34
I run outside and crane my neck, the sky above granite black. There isn’t a cloud in sight and the stars look like little pinpricks in fabric, so sharp and clear they take my breath away.
“Hey!” I yell, the sound of my voice making me strangely self-conscious in the otherwise silence of the night. It feels like talking out loud in an empty room, searching for proof you really exist. “Who’s up there?”
I hear more shuffling and turn to the right, squinting my eyes, trying to make out shadows in the dark. I still can’t see anything so I walk around to the side of the house, angling for a better view, when a figure emerges out of nowhere, like whoever it is was lying flat on their back and suddenly decided to sit up straight.
“Hey,” she responds.
“Lucy?”
The voice is unmistakable. It’s Lucy up there—maybe alone, maybe not—and I get the distinct feeling I’ve interrupted something.
“What are you doing?” I ask, walking closer. “How did you get up there?”
“The lattice,” she says, leaning back on her hands. I can see the red glow of a cigarette between her fingers, the shadow of her feet bobbing to some undetectable beat. “If you stand on the railing, you can get your foot on the bottom one and climb up.”
I glance at the lattice, the jasmine growing around it dormant this time of year, though the leaves are still lush and green, thick vines working their way up the wood like juicy veins on an outstretched arm.
I grab the nearest stake and shake it, testing its strength.
“Why are you up there?” I ask. “Is there … someone with you?”
“No,” she says, finally giving me her full attention. I can somehow sense her sitting up straighter, eyes intent on the shadow of me below. “Who else would be up here?”
“I don’t know.”
I bite my lip, too embarrassed to admit what I was thinking. It was stupid, my own insecurities rearing their ugly head. Not only that: it was impractical, too. Levi wouldn’t be up on the roof, not after what he admitted to earlier. He’s afraid of heights, apparently. Even though that didn’t seem to stop him the last time.
“Just come up,” she says after a beat of silence. “It’s nice.”
I look at the lattice, then back at the roof, my heartbeat thumping hard in my chest. This would normally be the kind of thing I’d scoff at—Eliza on the roof, beckoning me up while I rolled my eyes and shook my head, nagged her to come down before she broke her neck—but instead, I hoist myself up and grab the stake to the side, scooting my way over until I find my footing. I can sense Lucy watching me from above, silently observing, and even though the cheap wine coursing through my bloodstream is making everything feel a little airy and light, I’m still acutely aware of how high up she is. How flimsy this thing feels beneath my weight, like one wrong step will make me tip back and fall.
“Here,” she says, leaning over with an outstretched hand. I’m almost to the roof now, practically parallel to Nicole’s second-story window.
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing her arm. Feeling her fingers wrap around my wrist as she helps me up. Then, once I feel secure, I push off from the lattice and land on my knees, crawling around to the other side of Lucy, farther away from the edge.
“So,” I say once I sit down next to her, palms stinging at my sides. I cross my legs, mirroring her stance, trying to come across as relaxed even though I can still feel my heart beating hard in my chest. “You always come up here in the middle of the night?”
“Sometimes,” she says, taking a drag. She offers it to me and I shake my head.