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Chapter Five
Savannah
Once Ryan was finished with his “twenty questions, Ryan edition,” I excused myself to the bathroom.
After locking the door—a habit I did even in my own apartment when no one else was around—I flipped on the water and braced my arms on the sink, avoiding my reflection.
What did any of that have to do with Bella? The show?
What was he trying to do?
I looked up then to stare into my own brown eyes, trying to see whatever it was he saw as he pushed, but all I saw was bleakness staring back at me. It was that bleakness that told me if I stared too hard, too long, then I’d be well on my way to a new train of negative thoughts.
Not wanting to go there, I splashed water on my face, before reaching for the travel-sized bar soap that sat in a dish. I always felt better after cleaning my face, and this time was no different.
When I was through, when I had the hand towel pressed to my face, I inhaled deeply and held my breath.
Centering myself.
Satisfied, I put the towel back, looked at my reflection again, and nodded once.
I had this.
Exiting the bathroom, I was surprised to find the cabin empty.
Frowning, I moved toward the door. “Ryan?”
I opened the door, but he wasn’t immediately there. “Ryan?” I tried again, my voice louder. Both rental cars sat idle and empty, so I knew he hadn’t left.
To my right came a rustling in the leaves, but when I looked, there was nothing.
Was it a rabbit?
Or a deer?
Neither of which posed any sort of threat.
“Ryan!”
Shoot, where did he go? It wasn’t like I was in the bathroom that long.
Crossing my arms, I looked around once more before frowning, taking myself back inside. He probably went for a walk, but who knew what direction he’d gone in. I wasn’t about to go traipsing around the woods to try and find him.
I’d just sit and wait.
I dragged the rocking chair to the door and, using the chair to prop it open, sat down in the middle of the doorway. I was only sitting for thirty seconds before I was up on my feet again, back in the cabin, and grabbing my phone from the counter.
If I was going to sit and wait, I was going to try to pass a few levels of Candy Crush.
I’d recently had to restart my account, so I was only on level eight-hundred fifteen. Thankfully, I was good at seeing patterns before they appeared, and fairly quickly, I was up thirty levels and only down one life.
But any time I was on a winning streak and then lost, I immediately found myself bored with the game, and another loss of life just didn’t sound interesting.
I shifted on the wooden rocker, bringing my foot up so my heel was on the edge of the chair, and rested my forearm on my knee. Now to waste time, I thumbed through Instagram, but after mindlessly double-tapping pretty pictures, I was bored there too.
Next stop in boredom busters?
Facebook.
