Once I was up the stairs, I knew I was almost in the clear. Just one long hallway to go, and I was golden. When I made it inside my room and closed the door, I did a mini-victory dance as I flicked the light on.
“Hi, Rowen.”
Holy heart attack. “Shit!” I hissed, dropping my purse on the floor. “I mean, shoot. What are you doing in here, Lily? You scared the”—she lifted her eyebrows at me—“poop out of me.” I lifted a hand to my chest to make sure my heart hadn’t exploded through my ribcage.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare the poop out of you.” She gave me the closest thing to a smirk Lily could make. “I heard you and Josie pull up, and I just wanted to tell you something real quick before you went to bed.”
Lily was in her nightgown, the makeup washed from her face, but the soft curls still draped down her back. “What did you want to tell me?” I asked as I walked over to the window to make sure it was still closed. The last thing I needed was for a half-naked Jesse to catapult through the window while his little sister was in my room. There would be no way to explain that.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said. “To say thank you for taking time to get me all dressed up and pretty this afternoon.”
“Lily, you’re pretty all the time. I just put some makeup on you and curled your hair.”
“Yeah, but I felt different.” She slid a chunk of curls behind her ear. “Almost like I was someone else.”
Crossing the room, I kneeled beside her where she sat on the edge of my bed. “Lily, don’t be someone else. Because I really like the person that you are.” I smiled up at her. “Don’t waste your time trying to be someone else. Just be the best you you can be.”
I saw the wheels turning in that sixteen-year-old brain of hers. I wasn’t much older than Lily, but I knew what wanting to be someone else was like. I knew what wanting to be anyone else was like. It was a huge waste. A person could try until they gave themselves an aneurism, but we can’t escape the soul and flesh we were given when we were born. The key was accepting that and getting on with your life.
I’d learned that lesson, but I hadn’t fully applied it yet. I was still working on the application part.
“I’m going to write that down in my journal,” Lily said ceremoniously. “Just be the best you you can be.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I stood up when she did.
She paused on her way to the door. “Is that what you do?”
There was the million dollar question. “Working on it,” I answered.
She nodded before heading out the door with a smile and a “Good night.”
Once I heard her bedroom door close, I did the same. I kicked off my boots and hurried to the window. I couldn’t get it open fast enough. Sticking my head out, I checked Jesse’s window. It was open, and the light was still on. I was just about to open my mouth to say his name when I realized five sets of ears might hear if any of them were light sleepers. So calling to him was out.
Maybe it wasn’t . . . My cell phone was a mere room length away. I could text him to get the heck down here, but then my eyes fell on the chimney. The one I’d been so sure he was certifiably insane to climb. Really, it wasn’t so bad. The cobblestones were big, and there were plenty of good foot and hand holds for a person to use to climb.
I felt alive tonight. I wanted to feel my heart in my throat. I wanted to feel adrenaline trickling into my veins. I wanted to be as alive as I felt. Plus, I really wanted to see the look on his face when I returned the favor of leaping into his window unexpectedly in the middle of the night.
My short, shift dress would make for easy climbing, and my boots were already off. I was as set to climb as I’d ever be. After sucking in a deep breath, I slid through the window until my legs dangled over the edge. My heart was halfway up my throat, and I hadn’t even set hand or foot to cobblestone.
Against every indication, I was a fairly practical girl. I knew that plan was not smart. I wasn’t an experienced climber, nor was I athletic, but I was also past the point of caring about what was smart. I just wanted to get inside of Jesse’s room.
If it wasn’t already documented somewhere, it needed to be: hormones had to be the leading cause of teenage injury.
The chimney was so close to my window I could touch it from where I sat on the window ledge, but the next part was the hardest. Giving up what was safe for what could be dangerous. Letting go of the known for the unknown was the scary part.
I closed my eyes, exhaled, gave myself an internal pep talk, then swung my leg over to the chimney.
My foot slid into a deep crevasse. One limb down, a mere three to go.
I exhaled again and reached out until my hand grabbed hold of a small stone. By that point, I was sweating, but I was halfway there and wouldn’t give up. I’d given up on so many things before; I wasn’t giving up tonight.
The next part, though, would be the hardest part. My left hand and foot were in place, but I couldn’t move my right hand or foot without moving both. Without leaving the safety of my perch. Before I could chicken out, I shook my right arm and leg to get the nerves out, then pivoted my core and swung both of them for the chimney.
I whimpered the next moment when I found myself hugging the chimney, all hands and feet in their own little nook or cranny. I’d done it. I’d taken the leap, and all that was left was the climb.
That part was easy. Hand, foot. Hand, foot. Slow and steady and, in what couldn’t have been more than a minute’s time, my head peeked into Jesse’s window. There was no sight of him, but the room was strangely shaped. I could only see a small portion of it from the window.