Strung Tight (The Road To Rocktoberfest Book 1) by Ann Lister

Author:Ann Lister [Lister, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rock Gods, Inc.
Published: 2020-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Paxton was first into my apartment and cleared all the rooms. He was in and out of my place in under five minutes and running to catch the Uber he arranged to pick him up, which meant now I could finally relax and be myself. Dallas and I quickly ate our pizza in my tiny kitchen and washed it down with beer; then I let him take a shower while I grabbed a few items from my closet and the two pillows from my bed. When I was ready, I poked my head into the bathroom through the crack in the door he’d left partially open.

“Hey Dallas,” I shouted into the steamy room. “After you’re done in here, lock up my apartment and follow the stairs at the end of the hall. There’s a sign that says attic storage. Follow that one upstairs, and I’ll be outside the window at the far end of the attic by the back of the house.”

“You have a rooftop hangout spot?” Dallas yelled out to me from behind the shower curtain.

“I do, and it’s a perfect night to look at the stars the way you like to do,” I said.

“My favorite way to view the stars is with my hand down your pants.” Dallas teased.

“Hurry up, and your wish might be granted,” I said boldly, and then shook my head. Who was I these days? I didn’t even behave like this in the past with girls, so why was I so comfortable flirting with Dallas? He had me acting all kinds of weird, but every minute I spent with him filled me with happiness, which couldn’t be wrong if it felt this good. I tossed my keys on top of the closed toilet lid. “My keys to the apartment are on the toilet. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“I’ll follow the trail of breadcrumbs you left for me,” Dallas shouted from behind the shower curtain.

I smiled all the way upstairs and through the attic past the stacks of tenants’ stored boxes and whatnot. I was still grinning like a fool as I crawled out of the window and onto a flat area of the roof behind the big, round turret of the Queen Anne-style house. The pointed tops of two smaller turrets, one on each side of the house, was what created this small alcove of privacy. Mike and I stumbled upon this spot when we were storing some of our shit up in the attic one day. It was Mike who looked out the attic window and saw the hideaway area. He thought it’d be cool to sit out there and drink a few beers. He was right.

I set down the canvas bag I was carrying in one hand that held a six-pack of beer and a few other items I’d tossed in there—just in case, then I unrolled the sleeping bag that was tucked under my other arm, along with two pillows and a fleece blanket. After I straightened everything

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