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I sighed and tried a different tactic. “I went out with aman!”
“Oh, that’s exciting. Was it Cole?”
I panicked. “No!Not Cole!”
Yes, my parents know about Cole, and it was a total accident on my part. When I first moved here, my parents were slightly worried about me adjusting to life on the island, so I fibbed and told them I’d already made a ton of friends. I mentioned Lara and Camila, who were actually my friends already, but for some reason ... I also told them about Cole. It felt like heshouldbe included! Back then, our plans of mutually assured destruction were already taking up a lot of my time. If I put the same energy I use thinking about Cole toward, say, learning a second language, I’d be fluenttentimes over.
“What was this other man’s name, then?” my mom asked.
“Blaze.”
“Blake?”
“BLAZE.”
I shrug. “Yeah, anyway, they werereallyexcited for me. They can’t wait to meet him.”
“Moving pretty fast, no?” Cole asks while reaching for a pen on the desk. He whirls it around casually like it’s a helicopter blade.
“I guess it’s true what they say: when you know,you know,” I say with a confident smile.
“So then, it’s settled. Blaze is the man for you.”
Now he’s squeezing the pen so hard, his knuckles are white.
“Yes.”
The word is resolute and emphatic. A nail in a coffin.
Why does that send a frisson of panic through me?
He drops the pen, and it clatters to the desk. I frown, staring down at it as Cole starts to walk away. His name spills out of me before I can help it.
“Cole—”
I lean forward, suddenly desperate. A million possibilities could spring forth out of me.
... maybe you aren’t so bad.
... maybe I owe you an apology.
... maybe this thing between us has gone too far.
... maybe I’m sick of pretending I hate you.
All the truths wage war with each other, lodging in my throat, so that all I manage is a weak “Thanks for the coffee.”
Chapter Twelve
PAIGE
It’s today!Today!It’s happening!
The Nifty after Sixty crowd has vacated the hotel. They packed up their CPAP machines, dentures, knee braces, and hearing aids. They hobbled back onto the mainland just in time to have their rooms scrubbed clean and filled by a group of people so entertaining it feels like Christmas morning.
I don’t even bother with a full breakfast. I grab some buttered toast from the cafeteria and scarf it down as I walk-run to the hotel’s main lobby, practically elbowing people out of my way in an attempt to get there even faster.Oof! Sorry! Sorry!But between you and me, I’m not sorry. I would tackle and trample over people to get to the lobby. My shift doesn’t start for two hours; I could be off in dreamland right now, but I purposely set my alarm early. In fact, I regret not camping out here all night.
The doomsday preppers convention is actually titled the Survival Preparedness convention, but these people aren’t fooling anyone. Almost as soon as I come to a screeching halt in the lobby, I see a camo-clad enthusiast spare the use of his tactical laser-sighted “hatchet knife” and instead tear into his freeze-dried meal pack with his teeth.
