Page 67

Bogart

It was in my history.

Me

I take back the hate.

I love you.

Mercer

why r u going back to the hotel?

Nielson

he misses his boyfriend

Koffee

I stared down at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the screen.

Some of the guys had started chirping Cally and me about our friendship. Harmless stuff about being an old married couple, questions about who was the big spoon and who was the little spoon. Before, I’d fire back something about them being jealous because I was an awesome fucking boyfriend and move on, but now … well.

Cally and I weren’t together—this wasn’t romantic, just fucking—but this time the joke landed close enough to the truth that I didn’t have a good comeback.

I did miss Cally, but not because he was my boyfriend or anything. Just because he was my best friend, and he was better company than these fuck nuts.

Me

Go fuck yourself Nielson.

Nielson

i plan to.

Bogart

Goddamnit Nielson.

I shook my head and called up the JW Marriott on the map. The blue dotted route appeared, and I started moving.

It was still warm enough that by the time I arrived back at the hotel—jogging most of the way—my shirt was damp and sticking to my back. I tugged it loose, fanning it to let some air hit my skin as I walked through the lobby.

The place was bumping, the sound of live music coming from a bar tucked off to the side and a group of bachelorettes—complete with sashes and penis necklaces—taking pictures in front of some sculpture.

I turned in a slow circle, scanning for the dinosaur skeleton Koffee had been on my ass about.

“It’s above you,” one of the bachelorettes said, pointing toward the ceiling.

“Thanks.” I tipped my head back to find a giant, chrome-plated dinosaur running the length of the atrium. “Huh.”

How the fuck had I missed that on the way in?

You were watching Cally practically run to his room, my brain supplied.

I took one last look around, then cut across the floor toward the elevators, dodging a bellhop wheeling a cart stacked with luggage. I hit the button and bounced on my toes, waiting for the doors to open, then again waiting for them to close and take me up to my floor.

Before the door to my room even had a chance to close behind me, I was standing directly in front of the air-conditioning vent, tipping my face up into the cold air. I honestly couldn’t tell if it was the humidity making me so sweaty, or if I was getting sick, too. Cally had breathed all over me last night.