I tilted my chin up a fraction. “You can’t f-force me to stay here.” I’d only agreed to come this far because I didn’t want to stand out in the downpour, for one, and I had high hopes of finding a phone, for two. “That sounded more like a question than a statement,” said Patch. “Then ans-s-swer it.”His rogue smile crept out. “It’s hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that.”I glanced down at Patch’s black shirt, wet and clinging to my body. I brushed past him and shut the bathroom door between us.
– Becca Fitzpatrick –
Hush
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