Pusher

forty-seven.

My pen scratched across the page of my journal, etching stanza after stanza into the paper. The thoughts were muddled and messy — a first draft, but the words were stained with the truth. It was an unaltered reflection of the storm of joy and fear and ecstasy inside me.

My thoughts were interrupted by a dull rattle. It was to my left and definitely not coming from within the room. I stuck my pen inside the journal to mark my page and abandoned it on the bed. With careful steps I crept over to the window and peeked through the curtain.

Maverick's dark eyes, smoking from a mischievous smolder, found mine instantly. A sheepish grin overtook his previously concentrated expression as I drew the curtains all the way open. A flathead screwdriver was wedged in the side of the screen, his attempt at popping it out. Hence the rattling.

My tight-lipped expression and exasperated eyes did nothing to kill his smile, one that was melting away my irritation by the second. My hair was still dripping wet, staining the oversized shirt I wore with little drops. I had planned to go to bed after this and didn't bother putting on anything more than underwear. Maverick's roaming eyes took notice immediately.

I slid up the glass pane of the window, reprimanding him as soon as he could hear me. I was careful to keep my voice low. Mom didn't work tonight, and I wasn't quite sure where in the house she was.

"It's the middle of the night. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you and you weren't answering my messages." His voice was all too casual, and he was still working his tool against the window screen. You would think I would have gotten used to Maverick's absurd schemes to spend more time with me, especially now that mom had practically put me on lockdown, but I was just as shocked as ever.

"I don't even know where my phone is right now. I just got out of the shower."

"I can see that." His appreciative smile told me exactly how much he enjoyed the view, not that he hadn't seen it all before. There was a sharp crack, one loud enough to draw our attention back to the window and away from each other. "Shit."

"You broke it," I accused, running my hands through my wet hair. If mom found out Maverick was sneaking into my room at night, she'd kill me. More realistically, she'd probably call the police on him, and he had enough of a record to begin with.

"I can fix it," he promised quickly but hesitated shortly after. "I might need some better lighting though. And possibly my tool bag — left it in the garage. How about I come by after you get out of school tomorrow. Your mom won't be around, right?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You did that on purpose. You're just using this as an excuse to come over when we'll have the house to ourselves."

"It was an accident, promise. I'm not saying there aren't perks though. We'd have the whole place for a couple of hours. We could be as loud as we wanted..."

I started to slide the window down, lips pursed with disapproval, but he caught the pane with the palm of his hand before I could push it shut. His eyes melted and that innocent, playful smile appeared just when he needed it.

"Angel, baby, come on. Don't leave me out in the cold like this. I just wanted to come see you."

I sighed, and he knew in an instant that he won. I stepped to the side and slid the window all the way up so that he could crawl inside. He was less than graceful, and I cringed when his entrance made a rather loud thump, but after a few moments of listening, I didn't hear my mother stir from elsewhere in the house.

Rather than to get up from the floor, his landing from his rather clumsy arrival, he tugged me onto the floor with him and enveloped me in a playful kiss, sliding his hands well up past the hem of my nightshirt, leaving an electric trail in the wake of his touch. I broke apart before he could get a little too carried away and got to my feet.