Page 51 of When In Doubt

FREYA

“Oh, thank God,” I whisper under my breath as I take in the two beds. When I called the hotel and they told me that there was only one room left, I’d had visions of Oscar and I awkwardly squashed into one bed, a pillow shoved between us.

Luci, of course, had been thrilled. I texted her on the drive over and got back a flurry of all-caps messages about romance book tropes and Oscar and I waking up spooning. I love her, but sometimes she needs to come back to reality.

Oscar sits down on the bed closest to the door and falls backward with a groan. “Jesus Christ.” He tosses an arm over his eyes. “Remind me never to let you rope me into one of these again.”

I know he’s joking, but a rock sinks in my gut at his words nonetheless. “I did try to let you off the hook.” I try to keep my voice light, but Oscar sits up, his brow knotted in a frown.

“You know I didn’t mean that.” He stares me down. “You’re not making me be here.”

I give him a weak smile. “I’ll make sure to tell your mom I gave you a five-star rating.”

He doesn’t say anything. The silence feels thick, like a glass pane between us. He stands and moves into my space, looking down at me.

“Freya,” he rasps. “I was kidding. Do I look like a man who’s here for any reason other than that I want to be?”

If he says more, I don’t hear it over the sound of my pulse hammering in my ears. I’m frozen, locked to the spot by the force of his gaze. When he gives me a gentle smile and turns to the bathroom, I want to feel relieved, but tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I’m so confused, so overwhelmed, and none of it is made any easier by the fact I need sleep more than I’ve ever needed anything.

My feet carry me to the armchair in the corner and I sit down hard. I wrap my arms tight around my middle and bend forward until I can rest my forehead on my knees. I count to five, trying to regulate my breathing. I’m wrung out from the convention, from Oscar acting in a way I—once again—can’t understand, and my nerves are fried. I just need to curl up in my own bed and sleep for at least eight days. Instead I’m stuck looking at an ugly hotel carpet, with the very man who’s causing this headache.

“You good?” Oscar’s voice has my head snapping up. He’s leaning against the doorframe, drying his hands on a white towel.

Heat rises to my cheeks and I squeeze my eyes shut, nodding through my embarrassment. I really do not need him seeing me having a breakdown. My breakdowns are supposed to be for my eyes only.

“I’m fine.” I manage to look at him, and a smile curls at the corner of his mouth. “Totally fine, all good.”

“Sure.” He smirks. “I’m gonna head out, try and find some dinner.”

“I can go if you want,” I say through a yawn.

“Don’t even try.” He chuckles, already walking away.

When the door clicks shut behind him, I let out a long groan.

I am in way over my head.

A quick shower and twenty-five minutes of idle scrolling later, the sound of the key card bleeps from the door. Oscar comes in carrying what looks like a week’s worth of grocery bags. “I think I got everything,” he says as he deposits his haul.

“For the apocalypse?” I stare at the bags. It looks like things kind of got out of hand when he was shopping.

He doesn’t answer me, instead he starts pulling stuff out of the bags. “So, we got toothbrushes, pj’s, there’s a pizza on the way, and I got some of those instant oatmeal pots for breakfast. Hope that’s okay.” He finishes one bag and moves on to the next. “Plus some snacks, and some water bottles. I never want to drink the tap water at hotels, you know?”

“Oscar, this is too much,” I say weakly.

“It’s just the stuff we need.” He raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring me to challenge him.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Just let me be nice without it turning into a whole thing, okay?”

“A whole thing?” I scoff.

“Yeah, the needless back and forth we’re about to have.”

“I don’t know that it’s needless,” I grumble.

“It’s needless so long as I know I’m gonna win.”