Page 46 of Run Away With Me

I liked that.

We’d already decided we were going to Denver next, so we got an early start, not wanting to hit rush-hour traffic. Brooke seemed happier now than she had at any point since we’d left Seattle. It could have been because we were about to head into a city, and she was much chirpier when she was surrounded by people, but she sometimes lookedat me and smiled in a way I hadn’t seen her smile at anyone else. I almost didn’t want toconsiderwhat that could mean. The disappointment of finding out she was 100 percent straight would crush me.

‘We should stay in the city tonight,’ Brooke said, turning down the music so I could hear her.

‘Won’t that be expensive?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, but we need supplies,’ she said, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. We’d stocked up at the grocery store in Wyoming.

‘Supplies?’

‘Yeah,’ she said cryptically. ‘Trust me. I have a plan.’

We found a huge hotel, which I definitely didn’t think was in our budget, but Brooke pulled into the parking lot like she knew exactly where she wanted to go. The other cars were expensive. Like, Mustang-level expensive. It was also pretty full.

We rode up in the elevator to the main lobby with two men in suits. Another thirty or so of them milled around the lobby bar. I suddenly felt self-conscious of my ripped jeans and baggy T-shirt. At least my hair looked good.

‘There must be a convention happening,’ Brooke murmured, looking around casually.

‘That’s good?’ I asked.

‘That’s excellent,’ she corrected.

We waited in a short line for check-in, and I quietly scanned the room, quickly building an impression of the suited, obnoxious men who were talking in loud voices near us.

‘Hi,’ Brooke said when we were called up to the desk. She slouched and stuck her thumbnail in her mouth to chew on it, making her look and sound like a stupid, bored teenager – something she definitely was not. ‘We need a room for tonight. My phone and credit card got stolen, so I need to pay in cash.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

This woman wasn’t like the other receptionists we’d encountered in the shabby motels on our way here. She was dressed in a blue silk shirt with a scarf tied around her neck, and an extremely tight pinstriped skirt. She tapped at her keyboard for a really long time – like, areallylong time, to the point where I started to think she’d forgotten about us – and then nodded.

‘I can offer you our saver rate of one-eighty a night, plus tax. That doesn’t include breakfast.’

I wanted to wince – a hundred and eighty dollars was a lot more than what we usually paid for a room. I was starting to get annoyed. Brooke had better have a good reason for this.

‘Great,’ Brooke said. ‘Thank you.’

I let her take care of paying, counting out the twenties from our stash and slapping the dirty bills down on the counter. The receptionist took the money and counted it again before handing Brooke the change and two key cards.

I still didn’t say anything as we went up to the room, dodging the suits. We got into the elevator with three more of them, and I opened my mouth to ask Brooke a question, but she shook her head subtly.

Our room, when we got to it, wasplush. Like, seriously plush, especially compared to the motels we’d been staying in. It had thick gray carpet and one king bed made up with crisp white linens. The walls were painted the same shade of blue as the receptionist’s shirt, and the TV was a flat-screen and mounted to the wall. I’d almost forgotten TVs could be like that.

And we had asitting area.

‘They didn’t have a twin room?’ I asked, forcing myself to be casual as I dumped my bag next to the closet. I didn’t want to let my mind skip ahead to thinking about sharing a bed with Brooke.

‘I guess not,’ she said with a shrug. ‘We got the saver rate, though. I don’t want to argue with that.’

I wanted to argue, or offer to sleep in the little scoop chair or even on the floor, but I knew Brooke wouldn’t let me do any of those things now that we were friends. It was a king bed. There was plenty of space in it.

We’d be fine.

I’d be fine.

‘Are you planning on telling me what’s going on?’ I said, trying to be assertive without being an asshole.

Brooke sat down in the gray armchair and stretched out her legs. She pursed her lips and looked up at me.