Chapter 8 Amy #2
I mean, I guess I could have. But there’s no way I’d be able to get back in the car that Dad died in.
I stuff a handful of fries in my mouth before I start oversharing even more.
TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILES along, and it’s definitely starting to sting. Lewis is yawning again, and he’s starting to rub off on me, so I make the call—we’re done for the day.
“Okay, I think we should call it a night,” I announce. “Head for Deodate.”
“How long we got left to burn tomorrow?”
“About three hours.”
“Nice. I was starting to really feel it.”
We roll into Deodate and I run a search for a motel, guiding Lewis along until we pull up outside a ramshackle building.
“Wow.” He drapes his arms over the wheel, peering into the darkness. “It’s… cute.”
“It’ll do for one night.”
“It’s giving serial killer vibes,” he mutters.
“Don’t be such a snob, Conley. You could always sleep in the car, you know.”
I step out into the freezing night air, relishing the coolness against my skin after five hours stuck in a stuffy tin can with Lewis. I fish my bag out of the trunk and make a beeline for the motel, Lewis hot on my heels as I push open the door.
“The inside is even freakier. You’ve got great taste, Hitman—anyone ever tell you that?”
I glare at him. “Shut up!”
“Got a double?” Lewis asks the sleepyhead behind the counter.
A double?
He catches my look. “It’ll be cheaper.”
I harden my stare—I want him to know I’m not buying his bullshit.
“Okay, okay.” He sighs. “I thought I’d feel safer with my own personal bodyguard sleeping next to me. Just in case that serial killer breaks in and tries to skin me, or something.”
He tosses his card down on the desk, while I squint at the key the receptionist has just handed me. I blink. I could ask for a second room. So why don’t I? A mix of fear and excitement is washing over me, and even when I part my lips, no words come out. You are such a loser, Amy!
We walk down the hall in silence, and I’m breathing hard with every step, until finally we reach our room for the night. My heart skips a beat. Jesus, rein it in!
Stepping inside, I toss my bag on one of the two queen-size beds, while Lewis locks the door behind us, falling back onto his mattress with a sigh, folding his arms behind his head.
I’m staring, I realize. I rifle through my bag, searching for something to change into, before making a dash for the bathroom.
We’ve been on the road for a whole five hours, and though I was exhausted when we pulled into the motel, I’m suddenly awake. Very much so.
I take my time in the shower, letting the water rain down on me, feeling my nerves still, my edges settle. I put on leggings and a sweater, brush my teeth, and run through Raven’s labor breathing exercises. They aren’t working. Shocker.
I’m all out of excuses now—time to get out of this bathroom and face the music. My hand hovers over the doorknob, and then it hits me. I’m scared.
I lean my head against the tiles.
“Oh my God, Hitman,” I whisper. “Get it together!”
Scraping together every bit of courage I have, I swing open the door and head straight for my bed, taking care to ignore Lewis, who’s already lying on the mattress beside mine.
I dunk under the comforter and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Lord save me. I’m like an overexcited kid whenever he’s around—and now here we are in a motel room together, a foot away from each other, and my hormones are running wild.
I honestly can’t explain why, though. I have no idea why I’m drawn to him the way I am.
It’s not like we click; it’s not like we’ve known each other for years; it’s not like he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever met, or anything.
It’s completely baseless, and yet here we are.
I saw him on campus one day, and I was unfortunately… hooked—as simple as that.
As I stretch out on the bed, flashes of skin, lips, hands crowd my mind.
Is it me, or is it hot in here? I fumble for my phone and set an alarm, and when I reach over to slide it back down on the bedside table, I catch sight of my roomie.
He’s fast asleep.
I stifle a laugh—and then pause. Instead of flicking off the light, I roll over onto my side and watch him for a moment. His breathing is slow and even, one arm flung over the pillow, and my brain goes straight to how it would feel to be cradled there.
Who even has lashes this long?
And why do I even like him that much? I search his face for answers and find none that make sense. Just that quiet pull in my chest. The way my pulse picks up for no good reason every time my eyes land on him.
I’ve had more crushes than I can count, but this one feels different. Louder. Harder to ignore.
Why a guy who’s my literal polar opposite?
I press my face into the pillow and exhale. I must really love to suffer.
MY ALARM IS BLARING IN my ear, and my knee-jerk reaction is to tell it to fuck off.
That was a damn good night’s sleep—I had totally forgotten where I was and what I’m supposed to be doing today.
Hoarse laughter shatters my early-morning reflections, and I turn my head, squinting over at the bed beside me.
Lewis is sitting on the edge of the mattress, his hair damp, his chest…
bare? Oh, shit! My eyes widen as I drag the comforter over my head—anything to hide the expression on my face.
“No need to hide. I got a good look at the makeup-free Amy. You almost look harmless like that.”
I wiggle a hand out from under the sheets and flip him the finger.
“You’re a heavy sleeper, by the way,” he continues. “I was counting on you to have my back in case of emergency, but you were out cold. I went running, came back, and you haven’t even moved. Absolute disgrace, dude.”
Who even says that?
I watch him slip a tee over his head, his abs rippling as he squirms, and my mind goes totally blank. Oh my God, put the damn T-shirt on, already! I tuck myself back under the covers, silently screaming into the pillow. He must think I’m insane…
“Breakfast?” He pauses. “Don’t tell me you just fell back asleep.”
I count to five before untangling myself from the sheets and jumping out of bed.
“I’m starving,” I say, dropping to my knees and rummaging through my bag. “Let me get dressed. We can grab a bite to eat and then hit the road.”
“Sir yessir!”
I pluck clothes out of my bag—each piece carefully chosen for the occasion—and slip into the bathroom. Black jeans, block-heel boots, a cropped turtleneck, and I’m good to go. Once I’ve done my hair and my winged eyeliner, I check myself in the mirror.
There she is—the girl I left behind me when I moved to Sycamore Heights.
If Raven could see me now, she’d be losing her shit.
I’m about to go see the people I grew up with, and though they mostly remember me in sweatpants, tonight I need to be Amy Hitman, badass extraordinaire.
They’ve met that version of me before, too, and though it’s been months since I was last in town, I doubt they’ve forgotten.
This would’ve been a nice little ego boost, if I hadn’t promised my sister I was done with this whole world.
This isn’t about me, though, I remind myself. I’m doing it for…
“Amy, I’m hangry! Let’s go already!”
Lewis. Who’s currently screaming through the keyhole like a whiny little baby. I slip my red lipstick into my pocket and whip the door open to find him standing right there in front of me.
“Don’t you think we—”
He stops mid-sentence, taking in my makeover. He breathes out with a sigh, and when I raise an eyebrow at him, he just shuts his eyes and shakes his head.
I wince. Yeah, I know what I look like. This Brooklyn vibe is worlds away from what preppy guys like him are used to, and that’s exactly why I wanted him to stay back at SHU.
I brush past him and head outside, striding along the walkway, ignoring the catcalls drifting up from the street, waving my middle finger at the three guys sprawled on the sidewalk.
In the breakfast room, I pour myself a swampy coffee and grab two pastries before settling down in a booth that feels sticky, to say the least. When Lewis slides in across from me, I keep my eyes on my plate.
I’m upset.
Because I know I shouldn’t care what he thinks—but the truth is, I really, really do.