You don’t know the half of it, Sam. He’s a piece of work, a total pain in the ass, and I’m dreading going back to that room.
“We don’t have much in common, unfortunately,” I said, knowing that if I unleashed all of my complaints about Dev, Sam would be running for the hills. I’d save it for Maren.
“Want to wander the hotel with me a bit? See what there is to do around here?”
“I’d love that.” I grabbed Dev’s pancake box. “I just need to drop this off first. Meet in the lobby in ten?”
“You got it.”
Chapter 5
Dev
I was pissed—so pissed that I stormed back to the room, slamming the door behind me and knocking the pile of brochures onto the floor before retreating into my room, slamming that door behind me as well.
Fucking Lyra.
Since the day I’d met her, she’d been nothing but a pain in my ass and a thorn in my side. I was bending over backward for her trying to be agreeable, trying to be nice. But it was never enough for her. She knew Trupti didn’t come with me to the resort; she knew it would be a sore spot when she brought it up. And I couldn’t understand why—for the first time maybe ever, we were actually having a decent conversation, and she had to go and ruin it.
Three more days of this? How am I going to survive?
My phone pinged—it was a text from Trupti, but I was in no mood to deal with her. I tossed my phone on the bed, laying down beside it, not even bothering to read the entire thing. I was too preoccupied, too angry, to focus my attention on her.
Quickly, I grabbed my earbuds and popped them into my phone, searching through my playlists for one that would calm me down. I settled on my Harry Nilsson playlist. Nilsson was my dad’s favorite. Midnight Cowboy was one of the first movies he saw when he moved to the States, and Nilsson’s song, “Everybody’s Talkin’” captivated him. Ever since I was a boy, he played Nilsson records. He always said Nilsson and I were kindred spirits—quirky yet classic, odd but polished and refined.
I clicked on my playlist, and Spotify asked if I wanted to add his version of “Over the Rainbow” to my list.
“Hell no,” I grumbled, deleting the option. “Fuck you, Spotify.”
Settling into “I Guess the Lord Must Be in New York City,” the first song on the playlist, I took a long and deep breath, trying to purge that woman from my brain. My stomach growled, and I was reminded of the pancakes I’d left behind, wishing I’d been smart enough to grab the damn plate and bring them back here. I was still hungry, but there was no way I was going back to that restaurant—at least not until Lyra came back to the room.
That would be my new plan—when she was here, I’d find somewhere else to be, even if it meant hanging out in the gift shop or wandering the damn halls. Anything not to be confined with her. Hell, I’d set up shop at the bar downstairs, bring my laptop down, and stay there until they forced me out.
My phone pinged again.
-You’re snowed in. How busy can you possibly be?
I rolled my eyes at Trupti’s latest text, took a deep breath, and replied. If I didn’t, I’d never hear the end of it.
-I thought you were working, why do you have so much time to text me?
-Stop it, Dev. I feel bad about our fight, let’s talk about it.
-Not in the mood. Sorry.
-Dev!
-What do you want from me, Trup?
-I don’t know.
-Exactly.
My phone’s definitely going to ring.
3…2….
I let it ring four times before finally answering. I didn’t even bother to say hello—I knew she’d start right in.
And she didn’t skip a beat. “So, what? You’re not going to talk to me the whole time you’re gone?”
“Hey,” I shrugged, looking up at the crisp white ceiling, “you chose not to come. If you were here, I’d be talking.”
“Don’t be like this.”
“Like what?”
“It’s like you don’t even care that we’re fighting.”
“Well, maybe I just don’t have the energy for it.”
“Nice.”
“Look, I’m stuck here with Lyra. It’s been less than twenty-four hours and she’s already pissing me off. The last thing I need is to fight with you too.”
“What happened?”
I sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it, especially not with you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I bit down on my lower lip, trying not to lose my shit on Trupti. The sound of the door of our suite opening caught my attention. For just a second I let myself be hopeful—thinking that maybe Peter or Scott had made it to the resort after all. After hearing it close again in less than a minute, I knew it was probably just Lyra.
At least she was gone again.
Trupti let out an exasperated groan. “Dev? Hello? I asked you a question.”
“Forget about it, okay? I’ll call you back later. I just need to chill.”
Her voice was soft. “Promise?”
A small pang of guilt sank in my stomach. “Yeah, sure.”
I ended the call and tossed my phone on the bed. Closing my eyes, I drifted off into a preoccupied sleep.
About an hour later, I woke up, just as hungry as I was before my phone call. Pulling myself off the bed, I decided to check the kitchen for snacks.
Instinctively, I opened the refrigerator and was surprised to see a takeout box. For a second, I thought whoever stayed here before us had left it behind and housekeeping had overlooked it. But then I noticed the message written in ballpoint pen.
TRUCE?
-L
Opening the container, I found the rest of my pancakes and large plastic containers filled with syrup. As annoyed as I was with her, I was touched by the gesture. My stomach growled in anticipation as I opened the cabinet to grab a plate. After heating them in the microwave, I took a seat on one of the leather upholstered barstools.
Just as I was dousing my pancakes with the syrup Lyra had included in the box, I heard the key card click in the door. Lyra froze in place when she saw me, her smile fading as our eyes locked in place.
“Oh good, you found them,” she said as she quietly closed the door.
“Yeah, that was, um….that was nice of you. Thanks.”
Lyra shrugged, looking away for a second. “I mean, you hardly touched them. I figured you were hungry.”
“I was starving,” I said with a small laugh. “And a truce sounds…well, it sounds okay to me.”
Her face lit up more than I ever would have expected from Lyra. Her usual expressions were annoyance and absolute disgust whenever I opened my mouth.
I guess she really feels bad.
Normally I’d try to milk it, push her to see what other things I could manipulate her to do while she was motivated by her guilt. But I decided against it. Instead, I just ate my pancakes and offered her a genuine smile.
She walked to the counter and pressed her hands into the granite. “So, I made this friend on the bus, and she and I just got back from wandering the hotel. We stopped at the front desk and got to talking with the concierge. Turns out the storm is taking a break.”