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Vi points to the ballroom doors.
“You’re really going to send them back to his room together?” Donna drops her jaw so far I’m scared it’ll come unhinged. “Do you know what they’ve been doing while you’ve been with...” She trails off at Vi’s focused stare. “And now there’s another girl and...” She’s so jacked up, she has to stop talking to breathe.
I snapshot her in my head and file it away for the next time a script calls forapoplectic.
“Jess.” Vi turns her toward me. “Take Gabe and go.”
If possible, the fire my girl throws Vi burns hotter than the flame she turned on me. Head high, shoulders straight, Jess abandons all of us.
I go after her, head bent, shoulders hunched. Easier to keep track of my feet that way. “Give me two minutes to explain.” I talk to her back—because she won’t let me talk to her front—although I’m an equal opportunist when it comes to either view.
There’s nothing about Escalator Girl that isn’t hot. The sway of her hips in those white pants, the sweet curve of her neck, her Park Avenue braid. I imagine what it would feel like to run my lips along her collarbone. The odds of finding out aren’t stellar. Not after today. If I don’t something fast, that sexy backside might be the last I see of my girl.
The back hallway opens into the same area under the lobby where we did our signing. Hotel employees are setting up chairs around a T-shaped runway. A banner hangs over us promoting the cover model contest. As we hurry though the space, people stare.
I ignore them the way Jess ignores me. As soon as we reach the alcove next to the bank of elevators, I make my move, gently bumping into her and maneuvering us through the door of the family restroom.
chapter 27
Jess
T finally kissed me! It took him five minutes of inching closer on my porch swing while he looked at the ground. He was so nervous. When I asked why, he said he wanted our first kiss to be a perfect 10. He didn’t have to worry. The butterflies lighting up my stomach gave him a 20.
~ from the diary of Elizabeth Sara Thorne (age16)
The fan in the bathroom comes on with the automatic light. An annoying hum echoes off the walls and translates into a vibration that shrinks my skin to match the paperback-sized restroom.
“What are you doing?” I jerk out of Gabe’s grip.
Arms crossed, feet spread, he turns himself into a human barricade in front of the door. “Claiming my two minutes.”
“I never agreed toanyminutes. Are you too wasted to figure out I’m trying to get away from you?”
“Since you slayed a good chunk of my buzz, no. How about a second option?” He raises five fingers, then bends three. “I’m hoping you’ll be the bigger person and hear me out.”
“I’m already the bigger person in every relationship I’ve ever had.” Mom, Dad, Vi.
“Come on.” He laces his fingers on top of his head. “You’re gonna want to hear about the girl in my—”
“Don’t care.” Lie. Every time I picture the blonde dressed in his clothes, I dive into a freefall. “Open. The. Door.”
“Sixty seconds.” Losing his bouncer stance, he invades my space.
I scoot next to the sink, my only option for retreat, unless I want to wedge myself between the urinal and the diaper changing station. “Did you text the blonde to meet you after I turned you down in the laundry room? Is your ego that fragile?”
Rubbing the heel of his hand over his forehead, he leans against the door like he needs something solid to hold him up. “Coley’s more of an ego shredder.”
“Coley.” Short Blonde One has a name. A name that winds a cord around my heart and binds the beats.
I lean on the counter, dragging my sleeve through a puddle of soapy water. The damp fabric raises goosebumps on my skin. I rip off my sweater, wring the sleeve into the sink, and set it on a dry part of the counter. The spaghetti strap on the silk tank I’m wearing underneath slinks down on one shoulder.
A husky sound escapes Gabe’s throat. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”
I fight the urge to yank up the strap to prove I don’t care about the way he’s watching me in the mirror. Another lie. This week I’m going for a record. “That’swhat you want to say to me right now?” My sarcasm dives deep.
“That’s exactly what I want to say to you.” He reaches over his shoulder, pulls a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, and offers them to me.
I accept, and his fingers brush mine, sparking across my skin. I try to pull off cool and casual while I’m drying my arm. Not easy when you’re standing two feet from a toilet.
