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“Think that girl is looking to date some pretty-boy playboy?” Shane asked slyly. “One who never wakes up alone on any given weekend?”
I shrugged helplessly. “I really don’t know what kinds of guys she dates.”
“Oh? You mean you didn’t get that far during your little conversation?”
I stopped what I was doing and looked over at him. Shane’s arms were at his side, and there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.
“You didn’t think I wasn’t watching?”
“Watching what?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “The two of you flirt with each other! Or at least, you trying to flirt with her.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Oh please!” he laughed. “I’ve seen you flirt with enough girls to fill this hotel three times over.” He took a sweeping look around. “Back in its heyday too,” he added. “When it was booked solid.”
CRACK! Another chair leg splinted in half. Another piece of kindling hit the pile.
I examined my friend closely. He was in deeper with this girl than he wanted to admit. Or at least, that was my take on it.
“You like her too,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t you?”
Shane stopped again, and crossed his arms defensively. His body language was all stoic indifference, but there was something else too. Something in his expression that betrayed his defiance.
“Honestly, it’s not a big deal,” I told him. “You can say it.”
We both whirled at the sound of movement, somewhere behind us. The noise ski boots made stepping off a staircase, clacking onto the smooth wood floor.
“Say what?” Morgan asked.
Fourteen
MORGAN
It was one of those really awkward moments. The ones where you’re 99% sure you just walked in on someone talking about you, but because of the other 1% you still have to keep your mouth shut.
“Nothing,” Shane said, a little too quickly. “We were just—”
“We were just debating how stupid it would be to go outside,” Jeremy jumped in.
He shot Shane a sideways glance at the emphasized word, and I noticed it drew an immediate frown. I could tell which one of them was restless. That part was easy.
“How’d you sleep?” asked Jeremy.
Sleep. As if.
“Pretty good.”
I watched their expressi
ons carefully, waiting for the first snide remark. After what happened between us, I guess I had it coming. I couldn’t exactly sleep with two guys — two fraternity brothers at that — and expect to get off without a smirk or a cough or some dropped innuendo.
But as far as I could tell, they were both being cool.
“Storm’s worse,” Shane grumbled, smashing the back of a chair with his boot. Tiny splinters of wood flew everywhere. “Wind’s worse, visibility’s worse, everything’s goddamn worse.”
I glanced outside. What was a swirl of light and dark greys yesterday was now just a blanket of white.
