Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
For the escape room, Will and I are partnered with a group of five older ladies. They’re celebrating the youngest’s retirement, and to be honest, they remind me a lot of our moms. I think Will sees it too, though he doesn’t mention it.
It makes me miss them more than I already did.
The big timer on the wall tells us we have two minutes left, and we’re close. We’re so close it’s almost terrifying. If we were going to lose, I’d rather lose with several more clues left, not just one.
Pam moves slowly across the room, her hand trailing the wall, then she stops. “Did we check under the table? Like the actual underside of it?”
“I did,” Beth tells her. “It was one of the first places I looked after we found the scroll. There wasn’t anything there.”
“But what about now that we’ve got the black light?” Will suggests.
“Yes, exactly,” Pam says, pointing at him.
Beth grabs Dawn and, together, they move toward the table. “You check. You’ve got younger knees.”
“I’ve got it,” I shout, darting across the room and launching myself under the table. Someone flips off the overhead light, and seconds later, the black light comes on. I gasp as purple numbers come into view. “Oh my god.”
“What do you see?” Will asks, standing by the white board near the exit.
“There’s… Hang on.” I’m trying to piece it together. “It says six, and then down below it, there’s a one and a five. But they’re close together. Like—”
“It’s 6:15,” Beth says. “The clock. Someone check the clock. The six and the three.”
“On it.” Someone flips on the overhead light again and Will races across the room. There are forty-seven seconds left on the countdown timer. We’re never going to make it.
He steps onto a chair and pulls the clock away from the wall, checking behind it and running his hand along the back. “I don’t…see…” With no luck, he searches the front next. “Wait a second.” He pushes against the glass face, and it pops open.
“Hurry, Will,” I warn him. My heart kicks in my chest.
He moves the smallest hand to the six, then the larger hand around until it hits the three. The second it does, there’s a chime.
A circular panel opens at the twelve. Will sticks his hand in the hole and produces…
“The key!” Pam cries, one proud fist in the air. The ladies cheer as Will jumps down from the chair. He flies across the room, straight toward the exit.
Six seconds left.
His hand fumbles, trying to fit the key into the lock.
Three seconds.
Two seconds.
And then—
He opens the door. The lights flicker. Music plays from the speakers.
We did it. Holy shit, we did it.
The women jump and hug and laugh.
Without thinking, I rush forward. I throw my arms around Will’s neck with a squeal.
He catches me on instinct, stumbling half a step back. His hands land at my waist—firm, automatic—like we’ve been here before. Like he knows exactly where to hold me.
For a second, he just…keeps them there.
Our hips brush together, just slightly, and I feel it everywhere.
My awareness of the room fades—noises, lights, and cheers all disappear until it’s just us. Nothing except where we’re connected—his palms warm against my sides, my ribs expanding under his thumbs, our thighs laced together.
His breath ghosts across my lips.
His eyes move back and forth between mine. Slow. Then fast. Like he’s giving in to something. And maybe…I am too.
His grip pulses on my skin. He draws me closer, just barely, so we’re pressing that much harder against each other. He opens his mouth—
For the tiniest second, the world shrinks even closer around us.
The corners of his eyes soften, a question there.
“You were so scared!” one of the women yells.
Ice slithers down my skin.
I can’t see which one shouted, but it doesn’t matter. The interruption jolts me back to reality.
“I knew those bowling pins weren’t just bowling pins,” Beth says.
Will releases me as if I’ve caught fire, and he’s been burned. His hand snaps to the back of his head.
“Good job,” he says, too casually, turning away from me.
I can still feel the heat of his grip on my skin, the scorch of his gaze on mine. That touch, that look…it felt different from ever before. For once, there was no hint of teasing behind those familiar blue eyes. No competition.
It was…strange and warm and…good.
I don’t like it one bit.
“Yeah, you too.” I move away, far away, over to the women’s huddle, giving them my full attention. “We did it, you guys!”
They burst into a screaming rendition of “We Are the Champions,” and I keep my mind laser-focused, refusing to let my gaze drift for even a second to see whether those deep seas of stormy blue are still following me.
Back at the hotel, Will and I walk slowly to our rooms.
“You were right. That was fun,” I tell him.
The silence between us feels swollen now, thick. Full of things I’m afraid to put names to. Every time our arms brush, it sparks like a live wire.
But maybe I’m imagining it.
Maybe it’s just me. Or maybe not.
I can still feel the outline of his palms on my skin.
He keeps looking over at me like he plans to say something, but he never does.
“I’m glad you had a nice time.” He sounds so serious it throws me off. Will is never serious. “Big day tomorrow? What time are your sessions?”
“Um. I have one at nine and one at two,” I say.
“Mine are similar. I think eleven and two.” He pauses. “Hey.” His hand brushes my arm, grips it gently. I freeze, and so does he. He stares at me for a second, then turns and continues walking.
What the—
He rushes back in two quick steps. “I, uh, was thinking…” He stops, then he starts again, “I was thinking we could go out again, if you want. Just us. If you want.”
The question hangs in the air between us. It feels dangerous after tonight. But then again, nothing happened, right? It was just a weird, intense moment.
“Uh, sure. Yeah. Maybe.”
He gives a small nod, then we’re moving again. Our steps fall almost in sync, brushing along the carpet like a heartbeat.
Moments later, we round the corner, and our doors are in sight. As we reach them, we stop, accidentally crowding each other’s space. We’re so close I can see the place where his pulse jumps in his neck.
“Opal, I…” He opens his mouth.
Closes it again.
Opens it.
“Everything…okay?” I ask, my ears burning, throat tight.
“Yeah.” The word is an exhalation. Like he’s actually saying, right? “Yeah, I just—”
He stops, along with time. His fingers twitch where they hang near mine, brushing skin against skin, but he doesn’t reach. Doesn’t grab.
I wait—patient, but not patient at all.
“I…” His eyes search mine. So slowly it hurts.
Then something shifts.
He ducks his head, hand on the back of his neck. “Good night.”
I blink and his back is to me. I stand there for a second after his door shuts. My fingers trail upward to the space where his hands were before, to the exact spot on my ribs where I swear I can still feel his warmth.
As impossible as this entire night.