“I don’t know what knocking means,” Lacee explains.
“How do you not know what knocking means?”
“I must’ve missed that in all my chemistry classes.”
I hold her arm, keeping her body close to mine. An electric spark travels down my back to my toes. I told myself that pulling Lacee to me was for her own safety, but I can’t deny how good it feels to have her close to me again, even if it’s just for a brief moment.
I keep my head on a swivel as we walk toward the entrance. I don’t expect anyone to find us here, but you can never be too careful. A bell dings as we open the door. I look around. The place is empty except for the cashier.
“They have hot chocolate!” Lacee runs to the machine across the store.
“What are you doing?” I follow.
“Is hot chocolate not allowed?” She doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead, she pulls out a foam cup and starts filling it up.
“I just like to be kept in the loop. That’s all.”
“Okay, fine. I’m getting hot chocolate.” Steam drifts up from the liquid into the air. “Yikes. It’s so hot it’s boiling through the foam cup.” She sets the cup down on the counter. “I’m going to let it cool a second.” She glances at the cashier. “Where’s your bathroom?”
The woman with colorful tattoos down her arms points to the back corner. “Over there.”
“Thank you.” Lacee smiles.
The bell on the door behind us rings again, and we both turn over our shoulders as a bald man with a goatee walks into the service station. His eyes flick toward us then he turns down the first aisle of snacks. I escort Lacee to the single bathroom and knock on the door, waiting a second before I open it. A loud fan turns on with the fluorescent lights. I lean around her, peeking my head inside the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure it’s safe.”
“It’s a tiny bathroom. There’s literally only one place someone can hide.” She kicks the door hard, slamming it against the wall. “See? No one’s behind the door. It’s all clear.”
“You would’ve felt really dumb if somebody had been hiding there.” I hand her my secure cell phone. “Here. You can call your family on this.”
“Thanks.”
I step back. “If you have any trouble in the bathroom, just yell for me, and I’ll come running.”
“I’m sure you’re just being paranoid,” she says as she slams the door in my face.
The second I turn around, the man with the goatee wastes no time. He comes at me, punching me in the side. I wish Lacee could see me now. I don’t think I’m being paranoid.
* * *
Lacee
I take my time going tothe bathroom and washing my hands. I open up my purse and grab some lip gloss, applying it. Then I lean forward, looking in the mirror. I trace my fingers over the ridges of my face, pulling at the bags under my eyes. This whole experience has added ten years to my face. I straighten, heaving a heavy sigh as I take Park’s phone out of my pocket.
I decide to snoop around his device for a minute to see if he’s telling me the truth. It only seems fair.
I click on his text messages, but everything, including who he sent them to, is encrypted along with his emails. A face ID is needed to open any app besides the calculator and the weather app. I press on the photo icon expecting it to be locked down as well, but it opens up to only two pictures saved on his phone: a picture of my postal receipt and a snapshot of the one hanging on my refrigerator of me in my lab coat and safety glasses. I’m not shocked Park was in my apartment. I’m shocked he snapped a picture of my photographbeforewe met again on the plane andbeforeI suggested we kiss our way through the holiday season.
It’s cute in a semi-creepy stalkerish way.
I guess I’m into that.
Park liked me enough to stop looking for the computer chip in my apartment and snap a keepsake picture. That thought makes me smile.
I decide I better text my mom before Park comes knocking. I dial her number into the messages and click on the voice record, holding the speakerphone up to my mouth.
