Chapter 14
I wake up to the overwhelming smell of Kennedy’s perfume. My first thought is that she hadn’t smelled like that earlier when I first ran into her. Back when we were dating, she carried a cloud of perfume smell wherever she went. But it was gone earlier at the Walmart parking lot.
Now it’s back.
I open my eyes and quickly realize that the soothing sensation that woke me up was the feel of Kennedy’s hand running over my hair. I jump and slide over, putting some space between us. My shoulder hits the wall, and my butt is half numb, and I look around and realize I fell asleep on the floor of our hotel room. No wonder my shoulder and neck hurts. My phone is on the floor next to me, still plugged into the charger.
“Sorry,” Kennedy says sweetly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She reaches for my head again, but I pull away. “You don’t need to pet me,” I say.
She frowns. “You just looked so stressed out. You fell asleep sitting against the wall, Ethan. You know there’s an entire bed in here that’s for you to sleep in.”
She motions to the bed. Only now do I realize what Kennedy’s been up to while I was sleep. She showered and applied a face full of makeup with her signature bright pink lip gloss that I always hated kissing. Her hair has been blow dried and styled, removing all traces of the messy bun she’d had earlier. She looks like she’s ready for a night on the town, except for one major part. She’s wearing the hotel’s bathrobe. And if I know Kennedy at all, there’s no other clothes underneath it.
I pull my phone off the charger and stand up, stretching my aching joints. I want to collapse on the bed and sleep some more, but I’m filthy and even though Kennedy smells like a French prostitute, she looks a lot happier now that she’s clean. I know a shower will be good for me, too.
“I’m gonna shower,” I say, avoiding looking at her. She’s still sitting on the floor next to where I had been, and her bathrobe is conveniently loose around the chest area. I don’t want to accidently see any part of her. It’s not like she’s got anything better than what Ella has.
I take some clean clothes out of my backpack and slip into the bathroom. The marble countertop has been littered with Kennedy’s makeup and hair dryer and flat iron and perfume bottles. It’s like she brought her entire bathroom with her when she evacuated her house. I only brought a couple outfits and my electronics. Everything else I figured the hotel would have.
I take the sample bottles of shampoo and soap and slip into the shower. I turn the water as hot as I can stand and then stand under it, letting a steamy warm waterfall cascade down my body. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a shower, and being cooped up in my truck for ages has made my body feel claustrophobic.
Now, my muscles ease and my lungs take deep breaths and I stretch my arms up high and bask in the feeling of finally being free from the evacuation. I still have to get to my parent’s hotel, but at least the worst part is over.
I soap up and wash my hair and then stand here under the water for half an hour. At home, my mom would have complained that I was wasting water, but here it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to leave this bathroom. I don’t want to face Kennedy again and have to smell her perfume and deal with her overly fake smiles that I know are all just an act.
I want to be home. I want to be with Ella.
I open my eyes and shut off the water. Dammit. I can’t believe I was so eager to get in the shower that I didn’t even check my phone. It’s sitting on the counter next to Kennedy’s makeup, and I can see the little LED light blinking on the corner, which means I have a new notification.
I step out of the shower and towel off quickly and then check my phone.
I have messages from my parents, Toby, Jose, and Dakota. Nothing from Ella.
With a sigh, I leave the messages unread and I get dressed then towel off my hair. She must still be too far away to get signal. I’m so sick of this shit. This is 2018, dammit. We should have cell phone technology that’s better than this. This is a country where everyone is connected all the time. This shouldn’t happen.
Anger rises in my chest. I just miss her so much.
Once I’m dressed, and there’s no reason tonotstill be in the bathroom, I’m forced to face my ex-girlfriend in our shared hotel room again. She’s laying on her bed, still in the bathrobe, her gaze focused on her phone.
The hotel’s TV is on Cinemax, which is showing some romantic chick movie.
“Feel better?” Kennedy asks, not looking up from her phone.
“Much,” I say, walking over to my bed. Thank God for separate beds. Now if only I had a wall I could use to separate them. I lay down and bury my head into the clean pillow. The mattress is even softer than it looks, and besides being stuck with my ex, I’m in heaven right now. This is so much better than sitting in my truck.
“You hungry?” Kennedy says. “I just ordered us some food from the restaurant down the road. They’re going to deliver it.”
“What’d you get?” I ask, looking over at her.
“Cheeseburgers, fries, fried pickles, onion rings. All your favorites.”
I nod once. “Thanks.”
Kennedy’s phone dings with that familiar sound of a Snapchat notification. She tends to her messages and I roll over on my side so that my back is facing her, and then I read my own messages. My friends are just checking in, and my parents are asking me for an ETA.
I grab the remote off the nightstand that separates my bed from Kennedy’s and turn it to the news.
