Page 84 of The Fake Out

“Where’d you leave it?”

Frowning, I sat on the floor. “I set my bag in here.”

“You let it out of your sight. Last time I did that, one of them borrowed my phone and changed every single contact to MOM. Took me weeks to sort it all out. Should have kept that safe. Rookie mistake.”

“Thanks for telling me that now. Where’s your phone?”

“I was smarter. I locked it in the glove compartment in the car.”

I groaned. “So, we’re stuck?”

“Until they decide to unlock the door, yes.” He held out a hand and helped me off the floor. “This is home, sweet home.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

Do you believe in love at first flight?

Because when I look into your eyes, I see my final destination.

—DANIELLA H.

“This is weird.”

“I told you I’d sleep on the floor,” Chris said.

He had, several times. But I wasn’t mean enough to do that to the guy. Still this bed was only a double. Chris and I, we weren’t double-bed-sized people. His shoulders seemed to take up more than half the width of the bed alone and he had to curl up or dangle his feet off the side to fit.

“You know, if you didn’t insist on this pool noodle divider, we’d have more room.”

I patted the stack of noodles at my side. “No, thank you. You might take advantage of me.”

Or vice versa. Because I’d seen things today I could not unsee—Chris without a shirt on, all wide shoulders and lean muscles, that tiny little scar on his back that fascinated me. I closed my eyes and shivered.

Chris grunted. “This bed is ridiculously uncomfortable.”

“Maybe we should try to sleep.”

“Good idea. Night.”

“Night.”

I turned to my side and faced the wall. I’d gotten stuck on the inside, and with the metal headboard and footboard on the bed and a giant football player on the other side, I was basically boxed in. Good thing I wasn’t claustrophobic. Or scared of the dark.

Because it was dark here. Real darkness. There were no streetlamps or passing cars or soft glow from the neighbor’s house. Outside was nothing but lake and trees and grass and probably some other living things I didn’t want to think about.

I sat up. “Are there frogs out there?”

“What?”

“Frogs? Are there frogs?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“If the answer is yes, then no. Lie to me.”

“Fine. There are absolutely no frogs in and around that large body of water mere feet from this shed.” His fingers brushed my arm and trailed down to my palm, leaving goosebumps. He squeezed my hand. “Better now?”

“No.” But I laid back down and tried to think about happier things. Like mice or rats or the plague. Anything but those green, slimy things. I shuddered and turned to face the pool noodle divider.