My momentary happiness drains away when my eyes catch the barest movement in the shadows across the room. Heart thudding viciously in my chest, my feet automatically inch toward the door to make my escape. I nearly make it to my bedroom door when I hear a lamp cord yank down, then the room floods with light. I freeze, my hand clutching the papers behind my back. 

Caught.

Ten years ago, having this boy—this man—in my room would have thrilled me straight to the core. Now, I’m overcome with the urge to turn tail and run. He is perfection from the top of his just-long-enough-to-grab black hair down to the bottom of his customary black Converse sneakers. The sight of those worn out shoes makes me want to smile. He’s had them since we were kids. From the looks of it, they’ve seen better days, but I couldn’t imagine him without them. A pang shoots through my heart and the spurt of happiness fades, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

“’Lo, Sof,” he says.

The words bubble out of my mouth before I can swallow them along with the rush of emotions. “I can explain.”