The Four Leaf (A Holinight Novella) by Lee Jacquot

Author:Lee Jacquot [Jacquot, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-16T18:30:00+00:00

The little robotic voice from his phone lets me know my time has begun, prompting me to get my ass out of the chair. Slowly, I slip off the stool, my skin tingling from Adrian’s lingering gaze.

Excitement blooms through my core, and just like that, my adrenaline is coursing. The rushing of my blood is the only thing I can hear as I take my first step toward the exit. It’s as though something long forgotten has clicked, setting me on edge and urging my feet to move.

I don’t even bother looking back at Adrian or my sister, but instead, train my eyes forward. My pulse beats in time with the sudden countdown in my head, letting me know a rough estimate of how much time is left. Meanwhile, the eagerness flushing through my veins makes me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

I weave through the crowd, noting the number of people Adrian will have to move between in order to reach the doors. It will be harder for him considering his size, so I have a buffer to add to my time.

Within a minute, I’m back in the lobby. It’s beginning to fill with guests, but with our check-in system, the counter isn’t overwhelmed. The chatter of nearby conversations drowns out as my ears perk up for anything that sounds even remotely close to Adrian.

His walk is telling–muted, yet heavy. It’s how he’s always managed to get me out of my good spots when we were kids. I’d think he’d given up and would come out, and bam, he’d be there waiting to tackle me to the ground and tickle me till I screamed uncle. It took a few times before I figured out how to listen for the floors to creak beneath his weight. Or the squish of a mat under his boot. Even the wood whined as he climbed the steps.

But now, something tells me none of that will help. If he does catch me, I won’t be tickled, and uncle won’t stop him.

Through the cluster of the other guests, I manage to slip past the receptionist without her noticing. Nor does the busy bellboy, who is loading up two carts of overnight bags.

Down the hall, I open the large wooden doors. I knew from the moment he said to hide, where I’d go. Maybe it’s because deep down I know this will be one of the first places he looks. Which probably means I want to tell him my secret. I want him to know how I feel. How I’ve felt since I realized my love ran deeper than the heart.

But I also have a plan to get something out of him too. Because before I say anything, I need to know–really know–what exactly it is he feels when he looks at me.

I’m ready to play as many games as he wants, but guessing won’t be one.

Inside the room, I lift the heavy curtains and squeeze inside, repositioning the fabric so it falls naturally over my frame.

When I’m satisfied and nearly out of breath, I wait.

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