Chapter 2: Temptation and a Bloodstain

At that moment, she looked at me, her eyes dancing with nerves and excitement, like she was hoping I’d stay but almost afraid to ask.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, mouth twitching at the corners. There was a spark between us, like we were both waiting for the other to say it first.

Sure enough, she took the plunge, coming over with a smile. “Looks like you probably can’t get home tonight. Why not just stay here?”

She tried to sound casual, but her voice carried a hopeful edge. Her shoulders dropped, like she’d finally found an excuse to keep me there.

Hearing her offer, I felt like I’d won the lottery, but I kept it cool. I scratched my neck, glanced down at my sneakers. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or anything. What would people think?” I tried to sound bashful, but my mind was racing.

She swallowed, her tone turning protective. “It’s fine, the guest room’s always empty. I’d be worried if I let you drive home in this. What if something happened?”

She sounded almost motherly, but her eyes softened in a way that said otherwise. “Seriously, I wouldn’t sleep a wink if you tried to drive. Please, stay.”

I thumbed open my contacts, hesitated, then slid the phone back in my pocket. No way I’d explain this without sounding like an idiot. I shrugged, playing it off. “Well, okay. If you insist. Thanks, Rachel.”

Her smile went wide and she squeezed my arm before heading down the hall, humming. The house suddenly felt less lonely.

She led me to the guest room. It was nothing like my college apartment—spacious, with clean white sheets, a Colts pennant tacked above the dresser, a stack of Reader’s Digests, and the faint scent of cedar wafting from the old closet. The bed was springy, too, and the walls were decorated with a print of a lakeside sunset. “Hope it’s not too fancy for a college kid,” she teased. Compared to my shoebox off-campus, this was heaven.

Once I was settled, she paused at the doorway, hand on the frame. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” She limped away, her steps softer on the plush carpet, her voice humming a tune that faded toward the kitchen.

I knew there’d be more to come. Sure enough, a few minutes later, my phone buzzed: “You up?” with a winky face. I grinned, knowing exactly where this was headed.

I replied, “Nope. Not used to such a nice bed. Hard to get comfy, I guess.” Smiley face, just for fun.

She wrote back, “Just got Chloe settled. Suddenly starving. Want some supper?” She tossed in a fried-egg emoji, keeping it playful.

I grinned, replying, “Yeah, I’m hungry too. Thanks, Chloe’s mom!”—just to keep things respectful, though I was grinning at the screen.

She shot back a red-faced emoji. “Don’t call me that! Makes me sound ancient. Just call me Rachel, okay? It’s more... personal.”

My heart skipped. She was lowering the last barrier. I typed, “Okay, Rachel.”

Seizing the chance, I added, “No way you’re a day over twenty-eight, Rachel. I mean, you could pass for a grad student. Swear.”

Three dots hovered for a second. Then she wrote, “Haha, pretty smooth for a tutor. Did you flirt with all the girls at college like this?”

I shot back, “Swear I’m just being honest. You’re incredible, Rachel. If I could marry a woman like you, I’d be set for life. No joke.”

She replied, “Quit it. I’m just an old, lame woman. Nobody wants me.”

I wrote, “Rachel, you’re not lame. That limp doesn’t make you any less beautiful. Honestly, you stand out more than anyone I know. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Her laughter floated down the hall, muffled but sweet, and I lay back, staring at the ceiling, nerves buzzing. Anything could happen tonight.