Her scent reminds me of those fucking s抦ores bars she makes and I lick my lips, starved. It抯 sweet, but there抯 something smoky, even under the alcohol, and my mouth waters. Her bourbon eyes blink slowly, long black lashes resting on her cheeks a moment before they sear into me again. And then, almost imperceptible, she leans, tilting just so, just a click. And I抦 being pulled to it, can抰 fight it as much as I could fight gravity in this moment, despite alarm bells blaring through my brain. Less than two inches away. So many oversized drinks?
POP
We jolt up and apart, her balloon hat deflating with a winded wail that goes on for hours.
She lets out a frustrated sound and starts fidgeting with her hands, kicking off her shoes angrily. One bounces off the nightstand. 揊ucking salt and booze and planes. My fingers are swelling,?she starts yanking on a ring. 揇ammit!?she chokes out through a sob.
揊ee. Hang on okay? Just, shh,?I try to soothe her, and myself, and deescalate whatever this situation is that has left all our nerve endings exposed and frayed.
揑 can抰 get it off?I can抰！?She continues jerking with trembling hands.
揊ee. Take a deep breath.?
揑。 Can抰。？She digs her nails into a finger and starts to yank again until I grab her hands and pull them apart.
And then I do something that I can only attribute to alcohol, instinct, and sheer insanity. I take the finger she抯 been abusing and slip it into my mouth. I tuck my teeth around the ring and work it off her finger.
I抳e hinted at my feelings with a reckless statement that she kindly didn抰 push me on （that clearly wasn抰 reciprocated）， almost kissed her, and now I抳e sucked her finger off like a lover. I pull the ring out of my mouth and slap it in her palm, her finger shining, the tang of metal and salt on my tongue. I close her fist around it before I mutter a throttled-sounding 揼oodnight,?and turn to bolt.
揗eyer,?she croaks when I open the door to leave. I pause, but can抰 bring myself to turn around.
揗eyer. I think you抮e the only person I抳e ever been梕ver been smart with. You抮e the only relationship I抳e made the smart choices with. And?I don抰 want to ever lose that. I want to be smart with you.?
I nod, hearing all that she means without saying, even as my heart deflates faster than the balloon hat.
I抦 feeling way too fucking sober again by the time I get back to the casino floor, and head back to the bar.
Not long after, when I抳e remedied this thoroughly, I stumble onto the strip, and the first thing my eyes see is a neon sign.
I抦 feeling pretty fucking stupid.
18
NOW
FARLEY
I get back to my room and flop onto my bed like a starfish, bring one hand to touch my lips before I scream-squeal into my palm. I lose track of time, lying there like that, until dizzy thoughts become languid, and I remember that I need to get ready to meet up with Kara and Shauna.
I decide to head down to the hotel bar to fetch some shower-wine and a water, humming the whole way like an idiot. I think I twirl on my exit.
But when I complete my pirouette off the elevator, the stupid grin plummets, because in steps Meyer, back through those revolving doors, looking furious. He stomps my way and I freeze to the spot.
揥-What? What are you doing here??I look down at my invisible watch again?really, I need to start wearing one?揂ren抰 you on a plane??
揑抦 not.?He抯 flushed and breathing hard. 揙n a plane, I mean.?
揟hen what棓
揥ell, for one. I forgot my bag.?
揙h. Oh, okay. Well, don抰 forget it again,?I try to laugh. It comes out as a high-pitched heh.
揂nd two.?Another step. "I want to kiss you again. And I want to do it well. I want.?He mutters a curse under his breath, runs a palm over his beard. 揑 want to stay. I wanted to tell you that. I just梬anted to say the words to you and tell you. I抳e stopped myself from saying shit before and梖uck桰 just didn抰 want to do that again. You can tell me to go, and I抣l go, and nothing will change, Fee.?
My heart drums a leaping staccato. 揧es. I抦？I want that,?is what I say back, even though there抯 so many more words in my mind, important things that I know I need to say but can't manage to push out.
揧ou want me to go??he says, his voice clipping at the end, stating it more than asking.
揘o桸o. I want you to stay.?
And the next moments don抰 go by in a flash, they go by painfully awkwardly because when you make big declarations without forethought, you don抰 think about having to wait for an elevator. Or seeing both of your reflections in the shiny doors with their wide-eyed expressions. You don抰 consider that you might hop onto that elevator before he remembers that he needs to grab his bag from the concierge, hopping out at the last second and leaving you to ride up to your room alone.
You don抰 think about the state of your hotel room or how you left the Do Not Disturb sign on it, which means that it still reflects what an utter pig you are the moment you walk in. And as you cover the bloody tampon trash in the garbage can with half a roll of toilet paper, as you shovel clothes into the closet like a dog digging for a bone, and as you hide the disturbing amount of skincare and makeup on the counter （which you fear will be the thing that ultimately reveals how you turn into troll at night, thus destroying the only shred of feminine allure you barely maintain） you definitely don抰 think about keeping your phone on you because he might not actually know your room number.
I have no idea how long he抯 been calling by the time I hear it vibrating, but when I do I answer in a breathy panic, 揜oom 1148.?
揙kay,?he says before he hangs up.
I look at the bed, the last frontier, and scramble to make it.
I specifically avoid a mirror, knowing I抣l obsess and spiral further, choosing instead to sit on the edge of the bed and study my hands; the rings I always wear that once belonged to my mom. A band of opals and one with two tiny diamonds on a skinny gold band. 揂 square and a pear. They don抰 match, but they sure look good together,?she抎 say.
It reminds me of the last time Meyer and I were in a hotel room together. The feel of his teeth sliding up the flesh of my finger?the pinch-pull of it and the heat of his mouth. How angry and terrified I was with myself over how desperately I wanted to kiss him, how I wanted to tell him everything. Like how he抯 made me a better person, how he抯 given me the strength to do that for myself. How I don抰 even think lemon things are my favorite but that I order them because they make me think of him, in some small, silly way. How, after losing my Mom, I抎 been so miserably lonely until him and Hazel.
But when I could hardly stay upright, I didn抰 trust that it wasn抰 also the alcohol making me see what I wanted to see in his eyes that night. How just the thought of saying or doing something that could scare him away was enough to make me shove it all down again.
My head snaps up when the door opens, happy I snuck the latch in there so he only had to push it, saving myself from further greeting awkwardness. I watch him as he flips it back and lets the door click shut before he returns it to lock, the sound ricocheting throughout the space. He braces his palms on the frame a moment before he turns around.
揗y厰 I say when his eyes find mine and I register that glimpse of panic that matches my own.
But then he breathes into a smile, and I fall into it, my steady hammock, and my fear evaporates.
At least, all my other feelings overrule it for now.
He sets his bag down on the floor next to the desk before he crouches, pulling something out of it.