Patch leaned back against the booth and arched his eyebrows at me. The gesture said it all: Pay up.

"You got lucky," I said.

"I'm about to get lucky.

And here I thought they were called Peeping Toms." I didn't need to see him to know he wore a smile.

"Stop laughing," I said, my cheeks hot with humiliation. "Get me down."

"Jump."

"What?"

"I'll catch you."

"Are you crazy? Go inside and open the window. Or get a ladder."

"I don't need a ladder. Jump. I'm not going to drop you.

We still have a lot to talk about," I said. "Talk?" He shook his head, his eyes full of desire. Kiss, he whispered to my thoughts.

I tilted my chin up a fraction. "You can't f-force me to stay here." I'd only agreed to come this far because I didn't want to stand out in the downpour, for one, and I had high hopes of finding a phone, for two.

"That sounded more like a question than a statement," said Patch.

"Then ans-s-swer it."

His rogue smile crept out. "It's hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that."

I glanced down at Patch's black shirt, wet and clinging to my body. I brushed past him and shut the bathroom door between us.

Los humanos son vulnerables porque son capaces de ser heridos

Nice costume," he said.

"Ditto. I can tell you put a lot of thought into yours."

Amusement curled his mouth. "If you don't like it, I can take it off.