Page 7 of Room to Breathe

“Had you not had your foot in the toilet, I would’ve seen you and never come inside in the first place.”

“Why don’t you go put yourheadin the toilet. Give us both some peace.”

“It might be the more pleasant option in this situation.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“Nice,” he said sarcastically.

“Nice,” I said, my breathing hard. I tried to control it for several moments. He didn’t need to know he was having any effect on me. Who was I kidding, he already knew. He could always read me. I channeled all my energy into controlling my expression. He was silent. I could usually read him too, but he was just wearing a stoic scowl.

“Well,” I said, hating to ask him for anything but feeling like the situation warranted it. “Can you call one of your friends? Get us out of here?” Maybe he’d let me borrow his phone while we were waiting so I could text my mom.

“Why haven’tyoucalled anyone? Don’t have many friends these days?”

The words stung, stabbed me right through the heart, which was exactly where he’d been aiming, I was sure. I gritted my teeth and nodded at my jailed phone on the counter.

Realization came over his face in the form of a smug lip quirk. “Of course, your phone is locked up.” And because he was smart, always had been, he made the next logical leap as well. “You were looking for a key, weren’t you? Thought you’d find one in the bathroom?”

“I get it, I’m an idiot. Will you just call someone already?”

He took a deep breath. “My phone is in my backpack.”

My eyes shot to his shoulders, where I didn’t see any straps, then to the ground, where I didn’t see a bag. He jerked his head toward the locked door. “I set it down out there when I was getting the mints out of it.”

I groaned. “Okay…well, how long until someone realizes you’re missing?”

“I was going to the bonfire tonight.”

“And Ava and Caroline won’t wonder where you are when you don’t show up?”

“Maybe. You know Caroline spends most of her time with Luca. And Ava’s grandparents are in town.”

I did not, in fact, know either of those things. That’s what happened when you no longer talked to your best friends. You were no longer privy to information about their lives. “Great,” I said.

“Nobody will noticeyou’remissing? Your parents? Cody?”

“No,” I said without any other explanation. I would not be explaining anything to Beau.

I shifted my weight again and more water squished out of my shoe. I sighed and marched toward the paper towel dispenser. He backed up quickly, as though he thought I was going to punch him or bodycheck him or something.

I shot him a look. “Seriously?”

“Warranted,” he said.

“Whatever.”

I finished my walk and slammed down the handle on the side of the metal box several times, dispensing a long strip of brown paper. I ripped it off and then went back to the puddle, dropping the towel on top. It immediately turned a dark brown, soaking up the water. I toed out of my wet shoe, peeled off my sock, and dropped them both in the stall by my backpack. Then I got more paper towels and added them to the floor until they no longer changed color. I washed my foot with soap in the sink, dried it, then sat down, leaning up against the wall.

“Looks about right,” he said. “Just cover up your messes. Don’t clean them up.”

“Shut up, Beau.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Don’t talk to me. We can just sit in silence until one of your people comes and rescues you.” I hoped that was sooner rather than later.

“Gladly,” he said. “I’d forgotten how grating the sound of your voice is.”