WILLA
A sharp clink echoed against the glass for the third time.
Verah and I groaned in unison. We had only returned from carrying those dratted crates about two minutes ago and had collapsed onto the bed to rest our aching, exhausted bodies. The persistent clinking made that impossible.
"One more time," Verah said through gritted teeth, "one more time and you're going down."
As if the perpetrator had heard her threat, the sound echoed again for the fourth time.
"That is it!" She jumped off the bed and marched to the window. She yanked it open and thrust her head outside.
"Do you have a death wish, Lance Beckett?!" she shouted.
"I just want to talk!" Lance called back.
"She doesn't want to speak to you!" Verah screamed in return. "Get that into your fucking thick skull!"
"Why aren't you home for spring break?" Lance fired back. "Everything's better when you aren't there."
"I should be asking you the same, skirt chaser!" Verah shot at him.
