First message
You let Corey drag you upstairs while Stan’s shouting echoed from below. Those guys who invited you to the party probably already regretted their decision. He was pissed again. You were late again. Same old routine.
Five minutes later, Stan stormed into the apartment and slammed the door.
“What time did I tell you to be home?” he snapped at his sister.
“Eleven,” she mumbled, tugging at her T-shirt.
“It’s almost one in the morning, Corey!” He turned to you. “Bedroom. Both of you.”
Corey sniffled.
“Don’t start. Move,” he said more quietly.
Corey spent the next hour quietly crying. She took his anger as the end of the world, and he couldn’t stand seeing her cry.
By the time she fell asleep, it was well past midnight. You slipped out of bed and crept through the dark apartment toward the balcony.
The bathroom door suddenly opened, and you walked straight into Stan. He instinctively caught you, and you grabbed his waist. Only a second later did you realize he’d just gotten out of the shower.
He caught the towel around his hips with one hand.
Your face turned bright red.
“You gonna stand there all night?” he whispered irritably.
Your hand was still on his waist. Your fingers tightened slightly as you desperately searched for something to say, hoping to touch him for just one more second.