"I don't know, man." He fires up the engine, the low rumble filling the silence. Then, with that infuriating grin creeping back onto his face, he adds, "Maybe I was just distracted by that ass."
I smack his shoulder, but I can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of me anyway.
I jolt upright in bed, heart hammering against my ribs as the unmistakable sound of glass shattering cuts through the silence of my apartment. My first thought is, of course. The one night Mateo decides to actually sleep at his own house is the night I get robbed. Figures.
I strain my ears, holding my breath, waiting for footsteps or voices. The apartment is quiet except for my racing pulse, but that doesn't calm me. Whoever it is, they've already broken something. Which means they're inside.
Joke's on them, though, there's nothing worth stealing here. My most expensive possession is probably the cat carrier I bought secondhand from PetSmart. What's that worth, forty bucks? Hardly seems worth breaking in for.
