Chapter 19
Nineteen
We crawl back to the motel at eight-thirty, sunburnt and fueled entirely by things that were deep-fried on sticks. Gerald the Penguin is currently taking up most of the back seat, staring out the window with his judgmental eyes.
I’m exhausted, but it’s the good kind. The kind that lives in your calves and makes your shoulders feel heavy. My skin is humming from the sun, and my feet are throbbing.
It’s a strange sensation, but I don’t hate it.
The motel is one of those classic roadside setups where the doors open right onto the parking lot.
Griffin stops at the door to our room.
“Can I borrow your phone? I need to check in with the family.”
“Yeah.” He pulls it out of his pocket and hands it over. “Take your time.”
“I’m going to take a walk. Get some air while I talk.”
He’s already swiping the keycard. “Don’t go far. It’s dark out.”
I look at him, my eyebrows halfway to my hairline.
“Just—you know.” He pushes the door open and glances back. “Be careful.”
I give him a dramatic salute. “Yes, sir. Anything else, Dad?”
He rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t pull a muscle. “I’m going for a shower.”
The door shuts with a click.
I head toward the edge of the parking lot where there’s a low stone wall. Beyond it, the town is quiet. I can hear the crickets and the distant hum of a TV through someone’s open window.
The air is still warm. Above me, the stars are out, a detail I usually forget in the city.
I scroll through Griffin’s contacts until I find Rowan’s name. She picks up on the second ring.
“Oh my God.” There’s a frantic rustling on the other end. “Are you okay? Where are you? Noah told me to be calm, but I have approximately forty-seven questions and at least three of them involve homicide.”
“I’m okay,” I say, leaning my head back. “I’m fine. We’re… somewhere. I’ll explain the rest later. I promise.”
“Okay.” She takes a breath. “So, how is all this going? You know, with your crush and all?”
I close my eyes. “Rowan.”
“I’m just asking.”
“I had a crush on him for exactly one summer when I was sixteen. Which you are legally required to never mention again.”
“Forever ago,” she says, in that tone that translates to it was definitely not forever ago. “Ancient history.”
“Rowan.”
“What? I’m just saying.” Her voice softens, the snark dropping away. “You could have ended up on the road with someone a lot less… Griffin. I’m glad you’re with him and not alone. I mean it.”
I swallow hard. “Have you talked to Mom?”
“She only cares that you’re safe. Dad, too.”
We talk for another ten minutes. I call Mom, who cries for thirty seconds before pivoting to a lecture about SPF.
When I hang up, the parking lot is silent.
I look at the screen. Ezra’s number is right there. I can see the missed calls in Griffin’s log.
My thumb hovers over the number, but then I think about his voice and the controlled, measured temperature of it. The way he makes me feel like I’m constantly failing a test I didn’t know I was taking.
I lock the phone and shove it in my pocket.
Not tonight. Tonight, I’m allowed to just be the girl who won a penguin.
I hop off the wall and head back to the room. I don’t even think about it, I just swipe the key card and push the door open.
Griffin is on the other side of the room.
He’s drying his hair with a towel.
Just the towel.
Just… that one towel.
The one that, in a perfect world, should be wrapped around his waist. Instead, it’s in his hands, over his head.
I freeze. My heart does a frantic tap-dance against my ribs.
He hasn’t seen me yet because his head is covered. I need to move. I need to turn around. I need to leave the state.
Instead, my eyes—which clearly have a death wish—drag downward.
Stop it. Piper, look at the ceiling. Look at the floor. Look literally anywhere else.
Broad shoulders? Check. The tattoo I saw earlier goes all the way up his arm and over his back.
Up. Eyes up.
I’m hot. Why am I getting hot?
I get as far as his stomach before I make the catastrophic error of looking too far down while trying not to.
Oh.
Oh God.
There it is.
Yep, there’s not-so-little-Griffin.
I’m staring at his penis.
I can’t stop staring.
I make a noise. It’s not a word. It’s the sound a person makes when they’ve accidentally walked into a sliding glass door. Griffin whips the towel off his head, eyes wide, and we make full, soul-searing eye contact.
One second.
Two.
He snaps the towel around his waist in one blurred motion. I spin around so fast I nearly trip over my own feet and grab the doorframe for dear life.
“I’m so sorry,” I start, my voice an octave higher than usual.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says at the same time.
“I should have knocked!” I blurt out. It’s a lie. I didn’t even think about it. “I mean, I was going to knock. I thought about it. The door just… happened.”
“It’s fine,” he says, his voice sounding a little strained. “I lost track of the time. I thought you’d be longer.”
The silence that follows is heavy enough to crush a person. I’m still staring at the wood grain of the door. My face is so hot I could probably be used as a space heater.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m completely fine! Completely. Great. I’m just going to…” I look around the room without looking at him. My eyes land on Gerald, sitting in the armchair where Griffin left him. “He needs a walk,” I say, pointing at the stuffed bird.
“He needs a…” Griffin pauses. “He’s a penguin, Piper.”
I march over and snatch Gerald up. “Fresh air. It’s good for both of us.”
“You just came back from a walk.”
“That was my walk.” I tuck the four-foot penguin under my arm like a shield. “This is his walk.”
“Piper—”
“Won’t be long!” I scramble for the door. “I’m not sleepy yet, so don’t, you know, worry.”
I can feel his eyes on the back of my head.
“I hope you enjoyed your penis.”
Fuck.
“Shower!” I correct. “I hope you enjoyed your shower.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Thank you,” Griffin says. His voice contains a lot of things, most of them amusement.
I ignore all of it and bolt out the door.
Once I’m on the concrete walkway, I press my back against the motel wall and bury my flaming face in Gerald’s neck.
“Tell nobody,” I whisper to the bird.
Gerald says nothing. His eyes are pointing in two different directions, which I’m choosing to interpret as a promise of secrecy.
I head back toward the wall. Gerald is going to have a very long walk.