“What the—” “Caleb!” I call again. “Oh, thank god.” “Rachel?” He peeks around the corner at me. He’s shirtless, his coppery hair mussed. I can see that his tattoo sleeve goes all the way up his arm, over his shoulder. The rest of him is long and lean, cut with muscle. “What are you—” “Do you ever check your phone?” I cry, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He raises a confused brow. “It’s in my room. Rachel, what the—” “I’m locked out,” I blurt. “What?” “I came out on my balcony, and I shut the door behind me, and apparently it locked!” He chuckles, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “Oh
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