Josh turned around and slid through the window feetfirst, his long legs dangling for a moment before he got up the guts to drop down. When he hit the cement floor, his knees buckled and he fell into me. I caught him awkwardly with my arms around his back and his face pressed into my shoulder.
“Well. That was emasculating,” he joked, his green eyes shining as he straightened up.
I smiled, giving him a placating pat on the shoulder. “No worries,” I whispered. “I still love you.” We both blushed. We didn’t throw the word “love” around lightly or too often. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Together we crept over to the door. Josh held up a hand—taking the lead in an attempt to regain his manliness, I guessed—and opened it himself, wincing when it let out a loud creak. He peered into the hall then motioned for me to follow him. I smiled and shook my head at the huge streak of white paint across the back of his right pant leg. I’d told him to dress in all black, but I could never trust my artist boyfriend to wear any piece of clothing that wasn’t marred by paint.
If someone was, in fact, always watching me, they could have spotted both of us by a country mile with that streak glowing in the dark. A chill shot straight through me and the smile dropped from my lips. At least now we were safely inside, away from prying eyes.
The back stone stairwell was even colder than the air outside, and we quickly raced up the steps, taking them two at a time. Once in the main hall, we stayed close to the wall until we got to the bottom of the wide oak staircase. Josh looked both ways and nodded. We flew up to the second floor, sprinting noisily down the hall to the headmaster’s office at the very end.
“Hang on,” Josh whispered, placing his hand on the old brass doorknob. He rested his ear against the thick wooden door and listened.
“No one’s in there,” I said. “It’s after midnight.”
“I don’t know about you, but Double H has always struck me as a workaholic,” Josh said. Double H was the nickname we had for Headmaster Hathaway, Sawyer and Graham’s dad, who had taken over as the head of the school at the beginning of the semester. When Josh, Graham, and Sawyer had been at St. James Academy together, Mr. Hathaway had been the headmaster there, too, so Josh had more experience with the man than I did. And he had a point. The man had “work is my life” written all over him.
Slowly, carefully, Josh opened the door and looked inside. The outer office was dark, so we slipped in and closed the door behind us. Luckily, the entryway to the headmaster’s office, which was directly across the room, was open too. Moonlight shone in through the tall, wide windows.
“All clear,” Josh said.
“You’ve seen too many cop movies.” I elbowed him with a smirk, trying to cover up my nerves. Yanking out the chair behind the secretary’s desk, I booted up her computer and waited for the Easton Academy home page to load.
“How are you going to get in?” Josh asked, leaning one hand on the desk.
“I still have Lance Reagan’s secret code,” I told him.
“Lance Reagan’s what now?” he asked.
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “I thought all the Ketlar boys had it.”
Josh’s brow knit. “I’ve never even heard of it,” he said, pouting.
“Oh,” I said, blushing. “Sorry.”
“Can it get you into any computer on campus?” Josh asked.
“Yep.” I nodded.
“How did you get it?” Josh asked, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest.
My face burned and I turned my attention to the computer. Josh would not like hearing about me and Dash sneaking in here alone, nor about the fact that Dash had shared this boys-only secret with me and not him. Especially considering Josh and I had broken up just a few months afterward when he’d caught me and Dash kissing at the Legacy. We’d been drugged at
the time, but still. It wasn’t a favorite memory for either of us.
“I’m just that connected,” I said casually, my fingers flying over the keyboard. I hit enter and the computer beeped ominously.
INVALID PASSWORD. PLEASE RE-ENTER YOUR PASSWORD NOW.
My heart sunk to my toes. “Crap. They must have figured it out and blocked it.”
“Let’s try Hathaway’s computer,” Josh suggested, moving toward the other office.
“Why? What makes you think you can get into his?”
Josh settled in behind the wide desk while I stood tentatively in the doorway. “He’s a dad. Dads always use their kids’ birthdays as passwords.”
Huh. I wondered if my dad did that. And if so, did he use mine or my brother, Scott’s?