Page 31 of Second Alarm

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The whole booth pauses.

"Wait," Cal says. "Together?"

"No," Ty says.

"No," I say.

"Different bathrooms."

"Obviously."

"They're right next to each other," Cal says.

"That's how bathrooms work in bars, Calvin."

"I'm just saying."

"You aren't just saying anything, Cal."

"I'm — okay, I'm — "

"Stop talking."

"I'm stopping."

I get up. Ty gets up. We walk to the little back hallway where the bathrooms are, and at the hallway, without a word, Ty peels off toward the men's, and I peel off toward the women's, and we don't speak, we don't touch, and in the five seconds we're in the hallway together before the swinging doors close, neither of us looks at the other.

I lock myself in the bathroom stall. I put my forehead against the cool metal door. I count to thirty.

When I come back out, Riley is at the sink.

"Hi," Riley says.

"Hi."

"That was fun."

"Was it."

"Mmhmm."

"Riley."

"Yeah."

"Whatever you think you saw — "

"Oh, honey." Riley dries her hands on a paper towel. Her eyebrows, up close, are something else. Riley's eyebrows are — they're an instrument. "I didn't see anything. I don't need to see the fire. I can read the burn patterns."

"Riley."

"Your secret is safe."

"There isn't a secret."

"Mmhmm."

"Riley."

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