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“In the lobby of the hotel,” I finally answer. “I was texting…my dad.” The lie comes easily. No way I want to tell him that even though I bought a cartful of groceries and had plenty of non-perishable food within reach, my dad decided to text, cussing me out because he wanted a hot meal, like there’s something I can do about it hundreds of miles away. “He was worried about me.” Another fib. A giant one, but one that makes me sound normal, so I don’t feel bad. “I wasn’t paying attention to the bag, so maybe someone came by and stole it?”
“Your whole bag?”
“No, that’s in my room.”
“Let’s start there,” Cade offers. He places a solid hand on my shoulder, leading me toward the door. My skin pricks at the contact. The sensation filters through the embarrassment and nerves, filling me with warmth. Again, it’s all I can focus on. My thin shirt absorbs the cradle of his palm, the distinct five fingers pressing into me. When Cade’s hand drops, leaving me…alone, a chill runs up my spine, as if the air is suddenly cooler.
The elevator dings in front of us, and we take the sterile silver box to the first floor. Cade checks his watch, worrying over his lip.
“What’s wrong?”
“My curfew is at eight.”
“Mine too. What time is it?”
“Ten till.”
My shoulders droop, and I run my sweaty palms over my hips, waiting for the elevator to ding, announcing we’ve arrived on the main floor. As soon as the doors open, I step out, making a beeline to my room, swiping my key, and ushering Cade inside.
I gesture toward my bag on the bed, and Cade immediately moves in that direction. He unzips it all the way, searching through my things, and I cringe when he pulls out my white Walmart bra along with my cotton panties.
“I think you’d notice if there was a miniature Bulldog statue in there by now,” I snap, pushing him not-so-subtly out of the way with my hip while I return my undergarments to the bag.
“I was being thorough.”
I glance at him, attempting to read his face. One of the things that’s so unnerving about Cade Farmer is I can never tell when he’s kidding or not.
“I’m calling the front desk.”
“For what? If someone stole it out of my bag, they’re not going to turn it in.”
“Maybe it fell out.”
I roll my eyes, but he goes to the phone in the room while I plop down on the bed, my arms outstretched across the sheets, cursing my life.
“Hi, ma’am, how are you this evening?”
Charm oozes off him like the sweetest frosting covered in sugar. I wonder if he even knows he does it, or if it’s automatic for him. I’ve never met anyone this nice before.
“Well, I’m in a bit of a pickle. Did anyone happen to turn in a small statue of a bulldog to the front desk? Maybe about ten inches tall? Carved out of stone?”
Pause.
“Yes, I’ll hold. Thank you.” Then in a whisper, he says, “They’re checking.”
I give him a quick salute before letting my hand fall to the bed like it’s lost all fight. It could be anywhere. Maybe Coach took it when he saw my bag sitting there? Or one of the other players? Or worse, something more nefarious?
Every Warner student knows about our rivalry with Hamilton. Things have died down since the firework scandal, but maybe they were planning something like this and I made it too easy for them.
What a nightmare.
Cade sighs. “Okay, I appreciate you checking for me. If someone does, would you mind calling this room?” He waits a beat before saying, “Thank you. Have a good night.”
I cover my face with my hands. The bed depresses near my head, and I’m jostled that way. “No luck,” he says like I wasn’t listening in on his side of the conversation.
I draw in a huge breath through my nose, trying to stay calm. My phone pings in my pocket, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s Dad, and I really don’t want to add another stressor right now. I’ve been a bundle of nerves since I found out Coach expected me to travel with the team. I’ve never spent a night away from my dad since I was in elementary school and used to attend sleepovers like a normal kid. That was back when he could still move. When my life had some semblance of normalcy.
“Okay, let’s think about this rationally. You had the statue on the bus because I saw it when you tried to stuff the folder into your bag.”