Chapter 24
Note to self:
Get a better inner voice.
I’d been staring at the ceiling of my hotel room for what felt like hours, asking myself the burning life questions we all had. What was the point of popcorn ceilings? Who thought that’d be a good idea? Was it a decorating decision?
Maybe back in the seventies, which was when this motel’s décor had clearly last been updated, an interior designer decided a popcorn ceiling went great with this wood paneling. Or maybe it went well with the burnt orange wallpaper covered in stagecoaches and cowboys and saloon girls on one of the walls. Then again, the saloon doors in place of a bathroom door were pretty classy.
I was contemplating popcorn ceilings with way too much seriousness. But I wasn’t sure what else to do with myself.
When Theo got back to the car, he handed me my room key—an actual key with an oversized plastic keychain in the shape of a cowboy hat—and I scurried away with a mumbled thanks. I’d begged off dinner, raided the motel vending machine, and holed up with my laptop and the spotty Wi-Fi to check on a few clients, googled horror stories of accidentally kissing your brother’s best friend (which existed in spades, thank you, Reddit), talked to my mom (soothed her worries), texted Mae and Ellie something generic, took my meds, tried to write in my journal but couldn’t form a proper complete sentence, and climbed into bed.
It was only nine twenty-four. For the last forty-five minutes, I’d been lying here, desperately trying to think of anything but the feel of Theo’s lips on mine, the way his fingers had tangled in my hair, how right it had all felt.
What if he thought I’d kissed him on purpose? It had been an accident. A terrible, awful, wonderful, amazing accident.
You could have stopped it, a voice in my head said.
I think we both got caught up in the moment.
Uh-huh.
It didn’t mean anything.
Sure. It meant nothing.
Does everyone’s inner voice sound like a sarcastic customer service rep? It was a mistake.
Liar.
Oh, shut up.
I rolled over on my stomach and buried my face in a pillow. Get it together, Ramos. You are not sixteen. You are a grown woman. A grown woman who can handle one little accidental kiss. I’m sure it happened all the time, right?
Someone knocked on my door.
I sat up and stared, holding my breath.
More knocking, a bit more insistent.
“I’m sleeping,” I said.
“Nice try,” Theo said back.
“Go away.”
“No.”
Okay, fine, I’d play it cool, pretend like nothing happened. I grabbed a grungy old University of Texas hoodie I’d stolen from one of my brothers, slipped it over my sleep tank, and marched to the door.
“Hi,” Theo said when I opened it. He was still in his shorts and t-shirt, his hair messy as though he’d been running his fingers through it. A takeout bag dangled from his fingers. “I got you something, in case you got hungry.”
“Oh, um, thanks, I’m fine.” My stomach rumbled loudly and with feeling.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Are you sure?”
“Alright, yes, I’m hungry, thank you.” I took the bag, careful not to touch his fingers, and hightailed it back to the bed. “I don’t know what this is, but it smells like Heaven.”
Theo entered the room and closed the door slowly. He made his way to the only place to sit in the room that wasn’t the bed—a rickety wooden chair tucked under a built-in desk.
“General Tso’s Chicken. My favorite.”
“Yeah, I know. I can’t promise how good it is. The place also had pizza, hamburgers, lamb, and all-day breakfast on the menu.”
“I don’t care,” I said, taking a bite. The spicy goodness hit my tongue. With a moan of glee, I slid my eyes shut. “It’s so good.”
Theo cleared his throat. My eyes popped open. His blue gaze was watching me intensely. That kiss, the one I was trying desperately to forget, came rushing back. Don’t look at his mouth, Ramos. Do not do it.
But I did anyway. Who would have thought his lips would be so soft, or how fast he’d taken control? Had he wondered, too, about what it would be like to kiss me?
After setting the takeout box on the nightstand, I rubbed my hands on my thighs. “Thanks for dinner.”
“No problem.”
The ensuing silence was painful. PAINFUL.
“I should get to bed,” I said at the same time he said, “We should talk.”
With a groan, I fell back on the bed. “I hate talking.”
“Nice try. I seem to remember you once vowed to talk for twenty-four hours straight just to annoy us.”
I laughed. “You all never could find that walkie-talkie.”
The four of them were having yet another boys-only sleepover. Eleven-year-old me was not invited. So, I’d put a fresh set of batteries in my walkie-talkies, hid one carefully and out of sight in my brothers’ bedroom where they were spending the evening, and waited. When midnight hit, I started talking. I recited the Pledge of Allegiance about twenty times, listed off every person in my fifth-grade class and everything I knew about them, and then began reading one of Mom’s pilfered romance novels aloud.
“I wonder how long I talked for?”
“At least three hours. You fell asleep mid-sentence.”
I grinned at the ceiling. “I was a brat, wasn’t I?”
“But you were fun to have around.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
The chair squeaked and a moment later, Theo’s face appeared above me. “We do need to talk.”
“That sounds so grown up.”
The bed bounced as he plopped next to me, close enough that his thigh brushed mine. Ignore it, Ali. “It’s a good thing we’re adults then.”
I flung an arm across my eyes, the better to hide myself. “Speak for yourself.”
Fingers closed around my arm and lifted it from my face. Blinking, I turned my head and found him studying me with steady blue eyes. He said nothing, just watched me, his expression unreadable.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen. I was trying to get that woman off your back. I only meant to kiss you on the cheek. Then you turned and…” As my voice trailed off, the heat climbed up my face. Even my ears felt hot.
“It was a mistake,” Theo said, his voice low and oddly tense.
It hadn’t felt like a mistake though.
“Right.” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and said it more forcefully. “Right. A mistake. Because we’re not like that, you and me. We’re friends.”
Sixteen-year-old Ali would have gnawed off her right hand for the chance to kiss Theo. That was the same Ali who had practically thrown herself at him one embarrassing never-to-be-spoken-of day. The same Ali whose heart was shattered in a million tiny little shards by the end of that same day.
Yet, here was twenty-seven-year-old Ali, and I wasn’t sure I’d learned my lesson. Why did my heart always go back to Theo?
This day had been so weird. Had it only been this morning we’d woken with a naked man walking his dog outside our cabin?
“We’re friends,” he said carefully.
“And I don’t want to mess that up.” I turned to him, a note of pleading in my voice, remembering the painful three years in which we barely said two words to each other. “Please, let’s forget about it, pretend it didn’t happen, so we can go on as before.”
After a moment, he nodded. “It’s been a long day.”
“Impossibly long.”
“And tomorrow will be longer.”
Tomorrow, I would see Abe. “Extremely impossibly long.”
“No room for complications.”
I rose up on an elbow. “Am I a complication?”
A corner of his mouth curled. My eyes drifted to the tiny white scar by his lip. My fingers itched to touch it. Or maybe kiss it.
No, no, no, Ramos.
With a shrug, he stretched out next to me. It took all my willpower not to curl into his side and smell the comforting mix of citrus and soap that always lingered on him.
“Kinda.”
“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I’m a simple girl with simple needs.”
“You are the least simple girl I know.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “Never change.”