I stare up at the ceiling, afraid to breathe in case the person realizes I’m awake and lunges for me. Maybe if I pretend I’m asleep, they’ll leave.
A floorboard near the bed creaks just as a figure appears over the mound of blankets around my head, looking down at me.
“Holy s**t!” I gasp, both in utter terror and deep, palpable relief. “You scared me.”
“I wasn’t trying to,” Mikhail replies simply.
“Try harder not to,” I bite back. My wasted fear morphs into aimless anger. My heart is thundering against my rib cage so hard it’s almost painful. I press a hand there and force myself to take deep breaths. “Here’s a tip: don’t sneak into my room in the middle of the night.”
“This is my room,” he points out calmly, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark gray sweats.
Does he ever not loo
