Dirty Dreams novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: What the Wall Hears

Sunday morning Dylan was in the driveway washing his dad's truck, and he was alone.

The other three had gone home to sleep.

I stood on the porch with a coffee, in my robe, with my knees still sore, and watched him.

He had his shirt off and a sponge in his fist, and he was scrubbing the same spot on the door over and over.

I walked down the steps.

"You missed a bit," I said.

He didn't turn around.

"Morning, Kenna."

"You look like you didn't sleep."

"I slept."

"Liar."

That made him laugh, once, without much in it.

He dropped the sponge in the bucket and wiped his hands on his shorts, and for the first time since Friday he looked right at me.

"Can I ask you something weird?" he said.

My stomach turned over.

"Sure."

"Do you hear things? At night. Through the wall."

"What kind of things?"

"Me. Us. The guys." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We get loud. I never thought about it. I just wondered if it bothers you."

I took a sip of coffee to buy myself a second.

"I sleep hard," I said. "You know that. A fire alarm wouldn't wake me."

"Right."

"Why?"

"No reason."

He was lying, and badly.

It occurred to me that he had asked in order to find out if he'd been overheard.

It also occurred to me that I could ask him the same thing.

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