Chapter 8

As I made my midnight trek to the bathroom, I noticed the light spilling from the crack of Miss Baxter’s partially open door. She was home. But is it the kind Miss Baxter or the I-haven’t-always-been-a-nice-person-Miss Baxter?

When I finished up, I stood outside her bedroom door with my hand poised to knock. I was just thinking about what a dumb idea it was, and how I should just go back to my own room and try to sleep, when I heard her voice.

“Come in,” she said.

That spooked me a little. How did she know I was standing there?

“Or don’t,” she continued. “But please make up your mind soon.”

As I slowly opened the door in front of me, I had a flashback to the night that I tried and failed at my hastily concocted sex-for-rent scheme. Miss Baxter was lying in bed, tablet in hand, and pulling back the covers on the unoccupied side.

“Do you want me to—?” I started.

“Do you want to?”