Page 102 of Midnight Curfew

I don’t see any other cars, so I don’t know if his stepmother is here, but it’s possible. During storm season, everyone tries to keep their vehicles parked in the garage.

He taps the roof and backs away from the car, Jerome swinging his vehicle around their cobblestone driveway and racing off. I watch Callum approach his front door, pulling out his keys, and I ball my fists, ready to make another bet with him.

He can have me arrested for breaking curfew if he evades my fucking fists long enough to make a phone call. How about that?

He sticks the key in, and I tense every muscle in my thighs, rising up.

But then he stops, dropping his forehead into the door. His back rises and falls with heavy breaths, and I pause as he just stands there, looking like he’s about to sink to his knees.

Gritting my teeth together, I swallow. Go, I tell myself. Attack.

For some reason, though, I don’t feel the fight pummeling through my veins right now.

He twists the lock, turning the handle and opening the door.

His head pops up; he sees something in the foyer, and he cocks his head. “What the hell are you doing up?” I hear him bark.

He walks in, the door swinging closed, but it doesn’t latch. Checking the gate and seeing it now closed, I run to the door and plant my back to the house, listening.

“I like the curfew,” a girl says, sounding gleeful.

Anna-Katherine.

Great.

I can’t kick his ass in front of her. I forgot she’d be here.

“The streets are quiet,” she says. “When I go outside, I feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

Peeking through the window, I see she’s spread out on the foyer floor, her paints and brushes scattered around a massive canvas. She moves around, setting supplies around the board and wearing the cutest brown pantaloons buttoned just below her knees. I swear her mother hired tailors to craft whatever outfits her daughter wants to escape into. A short-sleeve black T-shirt is tucked into the waist, the suspenders simply for decoration.

“You can be in the backyard,” he points out. “That’s not illegal.”

“Can I ride my bike in the street?” she asks, walking around the painting.

“No.”

But I’m guessing it’s because he doesn’t want her in public without him and not because she’ll actually get into trouble.

AK stops, fixing a purposely devilish smile on her face, challenge accepted.

Callum glowers. “Sophia…”

I can’t figure out their relationship. She’s not scared of him, but he hides her. I haven’t seen him in public with her outside of school, and even then, he’s rushing her out of the building.

She’s only attached to him because he’s made her rely on him.

“Where were you?” she asks.

He throws his keys on the table and walks back toward the door.

I hold my breath, but he just pushes it closed.

“Out with friends,” he tells her.

Peering through the window again, I watch her rush over to him, crashing into his chest and wrapping her arms around his body.

“Mmm,” she coos.