Page 38

One Bed

Abi

So it had finally happened to me in real life.

I stood there in the doorway as Declan carried our bags into the hotel room—the hotel room with only one bed.

Elaine had booked all the rooms for the birthday party, and being a progressive sort of mother, she must’ve assumed that Declan and I would be staying in the same room.

Which made sense, of course.

But I didn’t know what he was thinking at that moment, and I also didn’t know how to bring it up. As much as I’d been sometimes honest with him about things and we’d handled everything so far together, I didn’t know how to navigate this .

Because when I’d stayed at both of his apartments, there was a spare room. I was able to stay with him without muddying the waters.

But as I looked at the king-size bed in the middle of the room, I didn’t know what he expected. Had he known his mom was reserving one room? Was he just as surprised as I was?

I walked farther into the room and sat down on the bench at the bottom of the bed.

Of course it was a big, gorgeous room; this was the Powell family. The room was huge, with a massive desk and beautiful windows and a stunning balcony.

Everything looked pristine and the art on the wall didn’t look like it’d come from some airport sale, which added to my stress and unease.

“So what time does the party start?” I asked, needing to break the silence. “Is it in a party room downstairs or something?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” he said, but he looked distracted, like I’d interrupted his thoughts. He scratched his eyebrow like he was trying to catch up to the conversation and said, “It’s at the bowling alley.”

“What? Did you say bowling alley ?” That was enough of a shock to break me out of my what the hell am I going to do about this sleeping situation? reverie.

“My mother rented out an entire bowling alley because my dad has always loved to bowl.”

“Okay for starters, how would your dad have even ever bowled? I can’t imagine Nana Marian taking him. Has he lived a life where bowling alleys existed?”

Dex gave me a half grin. “My mom grew up living a life a little less flashy than my father’s.

Her parents definitely weren’t poor, but she went to a public high school.

A very nice public high school, don’t get me wrong, but she did cross paths with a bowling ball, so when my father asked her out and she was intimidated by him, she said she wanted to go on a bowling date.

Y’know, to kind of level the playing field and have the home-court advantage. ”

“Sports analogies,” I muttered.

“Yeah, but just keep with me.”

“Fine.”

“After that, my father fell in love with bowling. Not just because it was what his dream girl took him to do on their first date, but because he was naturally good at it. And he also loved the vibe. He loves the noise at the bowling alley, the fried food, the community shoes—everything about it. He forces my mother to take him bowling a few times a year, swear to God.”

“This is hilarious,” I said, unable to imagine Charles and Elaine tossing gutter balls.

“So when she found out they have this brand-new, really nice bowling alley in Kansas City, she decided to rent the whole place for a day so we could all celebrate his birthday.”

“Well, this is absolutely unexpected,” I said. “I filled my suitcase with fancy outfits Edward has zipped me into, but now I feel like they’re all too nice for bowling.”

“Sorry, I should have told you,” Declan said sheepishly.

“No, I just assumed it would be something fancy, so I didn’t think to ask.”

I was genuinely excited to go bowling. For the first time since I’d met Declan, I felt like I would be somewhere that didn’t feel foreign and out of my element.

“I brought jeans,” I said, “but I wish I’d grabbed a sweatshirt or something. All I have are silk blouses and blazers.”

“I have a sweatshirt,” he said, gesturing toward his bag. “It’s just an old Harvard sweatshirt that I’ve had for a million years and will be huge on you, but it’s yours if you want it.”

“You’ve acted so normal the past few times I’ve been around you that I forgot you went to Harvard.”

“I could’ve bought the Harvard sweatshirt at Walmart, for all you know,” he said, sounding defensive.

“But you didn’t,” I said. “I’d love to borrow it, though, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

“So we seriously get to eat bar food for dinner? I feel like you’re going to tell me they’re having canapes or lobster and I’m going to be so disappointed because no food is as good as bowling alley food.”

“Abi—”

“And the french fries are usually made in a fryer that hasn’t been cleaned in fifteen years, which makes them the best french fries that’ve ever been made.”

“The snack bar will be fully staffed with inept chefs who know nothing about actual culinary science but are experts when it comes to a deep fryer,” he said, dropping his keys onto the mini bar.

“Well, thank God,” I said, thrilled that we were going to be bowling and eating normal food. “Do you care if I take a shower before we go?”

Working at Benny’s always made me feel grungy.

“Yeah, no, for sure you should,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I actually need to go call my mom and make sure everything is set, so I’ll do that while I grab my charger out of the car and you can hop in the shower. Let me get that sweatshirt for you.”

He unzipped his fancy leather travel bag and of course his clothes were perfectly folded inside. He’d probably die if he saw the mess that was inside my bag, but hopefully I could spare his genteel sensibilities by keeping it out of sight.

He pulled out a Harvard sweatshirt that was beyond perfect because it was faded and worn, like he’d been wearing and washing it on repeat since the day he showed up to freshman orientation, and I wanted to keep it forever.

Sleep in it every night.

Maybe that’s what I’d ask for as payment for this weekend—the Harvard sweatshirt.

“Did you know the only reason Rory never went to Harvard after years of that being her main goal was because Harvard wouldn’t let the TV show film there?”

“What? Who’s Rory?” he asked.

“Rory Gilmore from Gilmore Girls .”

“Oh.” He looked at me like I was the crazy one for bringing up Gilmore Girls when he really needed to know that it was always right to bring up Gilmore Girls . “I never actually saw a single episode of that show.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’m not your girlfriend in real life, because I would totally make you binge-watch it with me. We’d spend an entire weekend in Stars Hollow, and you would thank me for it by Sunday evening.”

His expression changed, and he looked serious and thoughtful as he peered at me.

“ Gilmore Girls , huh?” he said.

I nodded and tucked my hair behind my ears, hyperaware of some sort of undercurrent blazing between us. Another unexplained moment of zipping electricity.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, go shower,” he said. “I’m going downstairs, and then I’m also going to run over to the gas station across the street and get a candy bar. Do you want anything?”

I remembered his mom’s story at the cocktail party about Dex and sweets; how did that already seem like so long ago?

“I would love a Milky Way,” I said, wondering how long I had before everything changed.

“You got it,” he said, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. “I’ll be right back.”