I give him a dramatic salute. “Yes, sir. Anything else, Dad?”
He rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t pull a muscle. “I’m going for a shower.”
The door shuts with a click.
I head toward the edge of the parking lot where there’s a low stone wall. Beyond it, the town is quiet. I can hear the crickets and the distant hum of a TV through someone’s open window.
The air is still warm. Above me, the stars are out, a detail I usually forget in the city.
I scroll through Griffin’s contacts until I find Rowan’s name. She picks up on the second ring.
“Oh my God.” There’s a frantic rustling on the other end. “Are you okay? Where are you? Noah told me to be calm, but I have approximately forty-seven questions and at least three of them involve homicide.”
“I’m okay,” I say, leaning my head back. “I’m fine. We’re… somewhere. I’ll explain the rest later. I promise.”
“Okay.” She takes a breath. “So, how is all this going? You know, with your crush and all?”
I close my eyes. “Rowan.”
“I’m just asking.”
“I had a crush on him for exactly one summer when I was sixteen. Which you are legally required to never mention again.”
“Forever ago,” she says, in that tone that translates toit was definitely not forever ago. “Ancient history.”
“Rowan.”
“What? I’m just saying.” Her voice softens, the snark dropping away. “You could have ended up on the road with someone a lot less… Griffin. I’m glad you’re with him and not alone. I mean it.”
I swallow hard. “Have you talked to Mom?”
“She only cares that you’re safe. Dad, too.”
We talk for another ten minutes. I call Mom, who cries for thirty seconds before pivoting to a lecture about SPF.
When I hang up, the parking lot is silent.
I look at the screen. Ezra’s number is right there. I can see the missed calls in Griffin’s log.
My thumb hovers over the number, but then I think about his voice and the controlled, measured temperature of it. The way he makes me feel like I’m constantly failing a test I didn’t know I was taking.
I lock the phone and shove it in my pocket.
Not tonight. Tonight, I’m allowed to just be the girl who won a penguin.
I hop off the wall and head back to the room. I don’t even think about it, I just swipe the key card and push the door open.
Griffin is on the other side of the room.
He’s drying his hair with a towel.
Just the towel.
Just… that one towel.
The one that, in a perfect world, should be wrapped around his waist. Instead, it’s in his hands, over his head.
I freeze. My heart does a frantic tap-dance against my ribs.
