Chapter 12

A few minutes later, he dried his hands and walked out of the room, whistling a pop tune.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Devon said once we were alone.

“You and Pete have been—strangely close—since we met at the park.”

“We dated.”

“I know. You told me.”

“He’s harmless. Just lonely.”

I shook myself, zipped up, and pulled the handle on the toilet to flush. A loud whoosh of water drowned out my thoughts for a second.

I walked to the sinks, ran the hot and cold water, trying to find a moderate temperature, and lathered my hands with soap, holding them under the tepid water until they were clean.

Devon came up behind me, as I stood under the hand dryer. He wiped his wet hands on his shorts and placed them on my shoulder. I closed my eyes. His touch melted me. I sucked in a breath. Let it out.

He turned me around to face him and leaned into my mouth with his. “Pete is troubled. He needs a friend right now. I have to be there for him.”

“What about us?”