Sincerely, Emily ✓

04 • There Goes The Bomb

"WHAT THE HELL are you doing here?!"

I wasn't sure if turning on the lights was a wise decision. The good thing was that I could finally see who was in my room. The bad thing was I could finally see what he'd done to my room.

In front of my window was a mess. Clothes were sprawled in every direction, notebooks were toppled over them, the basket had fallen to the ground and the letters were —

Oh my God.

THE LETTERS WERE EVERYWHERE.

"Oh God," I breathed in, rushing for the letters where they were laying out in the open. NO NO NO. What if he saw them? Oh God, what if he read them?

"Woods?" Oliver asked, confusion on the edge of his tone. "Ah, sorry about that. You should've turned the — "

"What are you doing here?"

He flinched at my snappy voice. I realised it's become a natural reaction from him. "I — I wanted to check how you were doing. You looked pretty weird back there, and with the whole leaving and all. . . let's just say that you made quite an exit."

"And you couldn't have knocked on the front door like a normal person?" I barked, still shoving the letters into the basket and getting onto the shirts and notebooks. "Or at least wait for me to come out?"

"Hey, I thought you were sleeping or something! How should I know? Plus, you gotta admit, this way is much faster than going all the way from the front — "

"Get out."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf? Get out! My mother could be here any minute!"

"They're still at the dinner, relax," he said impatiently. "And they won't — "

"HONEY!" A familiar voice called from downstairs. "Emily, are you alright?"

Shoot me.

Oliver's eyes widened as he recognised the voice of my mother. He was about to say something before I eagerly interrupted, "Go!"

With a reluctant nod, he headed over to the window. I kept my eyes on him the whole way through, shooting daggers at those ridiculously charming green eyes whenever he glanced behind.

Wait, what? Charming?

"But seriously," he said, hitching a leg on the ledge. "It's better to keep the lights — "

"OLIVER, GO!"

I dare say it looked like he almost slipped, but nevertheless he made it to his window and closed it shut.

I raked a hand through my hair. That was too close. What if I had never heard the noise, and he had the thought of reading the letters? I would be doomed. My life would be a mess.

I decided to check my letters again to see if one of them fell or something. I needed to make sure all of them were intact and that the amount was correct. I know, I know — you're probably laughing at me right now. Why would I care about a bunch of letters that I made, anyway?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5. . .

. . .15.

Oh, thank God. Every one of them was —

Wait a minute. That was only fifteen.

There was suppose to be twenty.

No. No way.