“Hello?” she answers, sounding worried. “Something, something excuse.” She gasps, and I grin wider at the back of her head. “Oh my god. What? Are you okay?” “I have half a percent of battery left and chose to call you instead of 911.” My chest expands, sparks cracking and popping behind my sternum. I’m smiling like a fool. “I could climb down the side of the building, but this is the penthouse, and I am naked.” “You got hit by a car?” I can hear her trying not to laugh. “Yes. Naked. I was flexing and the driver got distracted. I caused a ten-car pileup.”
