Making Ripples by Katrina Abbott

Author:Katrina Abbott [Abbott, Katrina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Love & Romance, Boarding school, contemporary romance, young adult romance
Publisher: Over The Cliff Publishing
Published: 2015-01-26T05:00:00+00:00

Countdown

Ignoring the last bit, because: Oh my God, I put my hand on his arm and urged him toward the door on his side of the building. “Come on,” I managed to say as though what he’d said had no effect on me, “Where’s your flat?”

“Third floor. Fourth door on the left after the elevator.”

Elevator, good plan. My heart was already racing in my chest at just the thought of taking him up to his flat; the last thing I needed was aerobic exercise.

Once the elevator door closed on us, I wondered if he ever had panic attacks in here. The lifts in this building were old and made weird noises sometimes, making me not mind the stairs so much. Not that I was about to bring up his claustrophobia now.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence.

“So.”

“You going to tell me your name?”

I hesitated.

He smiled. “Never mind. After that enormously pregnant pause, I know you’d be making it up anyway. I know how the job works; there was a time I wouldn’t give up my real name, either.”

“Thanks for understanding,” I said. I didn’t like lying to him more, but it was easier if he thought I was on the job rather than the seventeen year old daughter of one of the agency chiefs who might even have been his boss.

The doors opened. “Left,” he said as I took his arm again. We walked down the hall amid the sounds of music and parties coming from other flats, but still, I worried he could hear my heart beating in my chest because the blood rushing through my ears was almost deafening. If he could, he didn’t say anything. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his keys and I was going to offer to open the door, but realized he did this every day and I would probably just insult him. I waited quietly as he slid the key into the lock and swung the door open.

He turned to me. “Coming in?”

“I shouldn’t,” I said, suddenly terrified because I was in waaaaaaay over my head. On the bench out in the open was one thing, but in this guy’s flat on what—if we were sticking with our joke about it—was our third date, seemed very intense.

“Aw, come on, Cinderella. Don’t make me celebrate New Year’s by myself.”

I crossed my arms, even though he couldn’t see. “That’s blackmail.”

“Yes,” he said, unapologetic. “Come on.”

“They say never to go to a second location,” I said.

“I didn’t kidnap you,” he said. “And I’m hardly going to stuff you in the trunk of my car and drive off with you. Come on, just for a few minutes. It has to be close to midnight. I don’t want to be alone just yet.”

“Just until midnight,” I warned as I glanced at my watch. “Which is seven minutes from now.” I closed the door behind myself, enveloping us in darkness except for the light that filtered in from the security lamps through the big living room window.

“Deal,” he said.

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