“That’s why I stepped in. Not because I thought you were naive or couldn’t handle yourself or because I was messing with you. Because I saw what he did, and then he started running through that checklist, like some predator.”
Her voice is small. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I blink, staring at the way the light streaks on the ceiling from the park across the street. “You were already mad at me. And I knew you were safe. That’s what mattered.”
Silence stretches between us. “You let me think you were just a paranoid jerk,” she says.
“Better that than you get taken advantage of.”
More silence. Then in a voice softer than a whisper: “Thanks, Oliver.”
“It’s Fletch.”
“Nope. Too late. Oliver it is.”
I let a smile tug my mouth up, glad she can’t see. “Good night, Elf on the Shelf.”
I feel my breathing calm, my pulse slowing. The room is peaceful, and the small town is so quiet, there’s not even the noise of cars to worry about. I’m almost asleep when a light hits my eyes.
I open them to see Poppy on her phone.
“Poppy,” I moan. “Can you put that away? The light’s keeping me up.”
“Yeah, sorry, I just need to send something.”
The light from her phone glows against her face, giving me a view of a whisper of a smile on her lips. Even determinedly happy as she is, the girl is beautiful. She types something and then sets down her phone.
“Sorry about that,” she says. “Good night.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I huff out air. “Night.”
The pre-dawn sun slips through the curtains, waking me, but I don’t open my eyes. The room is quiet with the kind of hush that makes you breathe deeper without even thinking. Warmth settles across my face—unusual, since I keep my room cold—but it’s pleasant. Cozy. I stay still, hoping I can drift off again.
Then it hits me.
The hotel.
My eyes fly open and I instantly flinch, because Poppy’s face is right next to mine, only millimeters apart, and the girl isout.I take a minute to study her without that distracting smile she insists on wearing. And now that her mouth isn’t moving, I can appreciate it. Her top lip is fuller than her bottom, with a big, cute v in the middle. There’s probably some name for it, but I don’t know what it is. Her dark brown lashes are long, but they lose pigment at the tips, which is strangely pretty. Her skin is like glass, so smooth, it looks almost fragile.
Like I could break her.
You’re in a car with her for two more days, tops. You’re not going to break her.
Besides, why are you getting all mushy about her face? Her breath stinks. Focus on that.
Her breath does kind of stink.
Not as bad as mine, though.
It’s not quite 7, but if my body senses the sun, I can’t sleep, so I’ve learned to roll with it. I slowly slip out of bed, not wanting to wake Poppy, and I take my phone and duffel bag into the bathroom.
While I brush my teeth, I check my messages, and a smile spreads across my face, making me drip toothpaste onto my chest.
Nice.
I wipe it up and read Grace’s message.
GracieLou
