Not only had we failed, which ate me up, but now the mystery of where the amethyst was hidden in that room gnawed on me as well.
Maybe I could go back, just to figure out where the amethyst was and escape the room. I didn’t like the bigfailstamp, even if it had been just a game.
Now back in my apartment, I picked up my phone and glanced at the screen. Five minutes ago I’d texted Tate with a simple question composed of twoveryimportant words:You decent?I didn’t need a repeat of last week when he’d opened the door right out of the shower. So here I was, sitting in my reading chair, my leg bouncing up and down like a jackhammer, a book not in my hands, although why not I couldn’t say. I was too keyed up maybe. The escape room had flushed my body with adrenaline as we’d worked against the clock to solve the puzzles. Plus, I was dying to know if Tate had heard back from the music manager yet. A dozennot yetreplies to my inquiries nested in my text inbox, but maybe the manager had finally responded. If not, I was armed with another name. A recording studio this time.
My phone vibrated against my thigh, and I picked it up. Swiped the screen to open the text. A laughing emoji followed by the worddecent. Enough for me. I pocketed my phone and the slip of paper with the studio’s information, locked the door behind me, and bounded up the stairs to the next floor.
Tate waited for me, leaning against the doorframe, a grin in place and that one brow cocked. “Decent?”
“Gotta make sure.” I walked past him into his apartment and turned, shoving my fidgeting hands into my pockets. “So…heard back yet?”
He shut the door with a click, then grabbed something from a bowl that rested on the coat rack to the left. A small yellow package came flying at my head, and I caught it midair. Peanut M&M’s. I ripped the package open and popped one into my mouth. “Thanks.”
The spicy scent of his aftershave trailed him as he passed me, and I found my nose turning to follow the smell.
“These things take time, Em.” He dropped into the brown leather love seat a few feet away. “I had to squeeze time into my friend’s studio just to record the demo, so the audio file has only been in the manager’s email inbox for a couple of days.”
I let gravity pull my body down to the cushion next to him. “Yeah, but how long does it take to click on a file and listen to a two-minute song?”
Tate patted my knee. “You know how many emails that guy probably gets in a day from artists seeking representation? It might be a while.”
“Fine,” I huffed. I didn’t have to like the wait, but maybe the name in my pocket would end up being Tate’s golden ticket. I leaned back and dug in my pocket for the paper, then handed it over. “If that guy snoozes, he loses. Here’s the next place you should send the demo.”
Tate took the paper from my hand and slipped it into his pocket.
I eyed his hand, half covered in denim, then lifted my quizzical gaze to his face. “What’re you doing?”
“Umm…”
My palm pushed against his bicep. “Now. Send it now.”
His arm shook under my hand as he laughed. “I doubt anyone is at their office this late at night.”
“You never know.”
He reached over me and plucked the Peanut M&M’s off the couch. Three candies fell into his open palm when he tilted the package. “I think it can wait until morning. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something that’s been bugging me.”
I snatched the bag of chocolate back and pushed one out of the ripped corner. “What’s that?”
He turned so his back rested against the arm of the love seat, and he faced me. “You.”
Chocolate clung to my back molars as I forced a swallow. “What about me?”
“You’ve been acting strange lately. First on the ferry last week, then today at the escape room. I caught you sneaking glances at me and Sydney and the expression on your face… I don’t know. It was weird. Plus, there seems to be this vibe or tension between us. Did I do something?”
If I didn’t know for a fact that I didn’t have peanut allergies, I would have thought I was going into anaphylactic shock. My throat closed up, and I found it hard to breathe. My vision narrowed, and thoughts scattered. Tate wanted totalkabout this? I couldn’t talk about it. About anything!
I worked my tongue over the roof of my mouth, rolled my lips together, and matched his position on the opposite side of the love seat, which put a bit of distance between our bodies. I found I needed as much space as I could get right then. Rubbing my palms across the stretchy fabric of my leggings and forcing a smile, I said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It was a lie. I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I couldn’t face it. Couldn’t do a confrontation. Call me a coward. But that title didn’t fit, not really. A coward implied someone too afraid to face something. Yes, fear made my heart race, but I didn’twantto turn away. I wanted to deal with this. Wanted to tell him that turning our bet into a matchmaking scheme had hurt my feelings. Wanted to tell him that seeing him with Sydney caused me to mentally grab for a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. But none of my wanting could override my physical inability. And that was what it was. I had ignored, brushed off, buried down any negative feelings for so long that I was physically incapable of turning those thoughts and feelings into audible words.
Tate reached for my hand and squeezed my fingers. “Are you sure? Because I swear I’m not imagining things, Emory. I know you too well. Something’s up.”
I needed a book. Needed a way to tune out this conversation. Shut off my thoughts. Get my world right again. I looked at Tate’s ear. Maybe it was close enough to his eyes he wouldn’t notice that I couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sure.” I squeezed his fingers back to punctuate my reassurance. “We’re good.”
Wemight be—because I was going to make sure we were, no matter how much I had to hold back—butIwasn’t. Not then. I had to get out of there. I stood and looked at my wrist even though I wasn’t wearing a watch. Maybe he wouldn’t notice that either. “I should be going. Long day at work tomorrow.”
Tate stood, watching me. Studying. And I knew. He didn’t buy it. He’d let me leave, escape, because he was sweet like that. But he didn’t for a minute believe the lies that I had been telling myself all my life.
