I stare out the window at the golden trees, lit from below by the hotel lights. It’s so peaceful here. My head sinks into the pillow, my eyes growing heavier with each blink. I’m exhausted from the trip and have a dull ache in my arm. I reach to rub the underside of my forearm, but the scene is slowly fading away. I think about the party, about Elias. The way he tried to hide his smile behind his glass, the golden hue of his eyes as he slid them over me. I can imagine the sort of tour he would have taken me on. It probably would’ve ended in his hotel room. I’m not sure I would have minded that.
I curl up and snuggle into the pillow like it’s a person holding me. I picture his arms around me, the beat of his heart under my hand. I pretend it’s Elias, warm and comfortable. “How did you get here?” he asks again.
The room sways with the beginning of sleep, a deep sleep that’s too inviting to resist. I close my eyes completely and answer, “I don’t know.”
Chapter 2
My room is dark when I open my eyes, drawn awake by the low hum of music. I blink until my vision adjusts; the soft glow outside my window tells me it’s not quite dawn. I’ve been asleep for only a few hours. Light seeps from under my door, and I wait a beat for the music to stop. It doesn’t.
Slowly I get out of bed and feel my way toward the door. From the other side I can hear music, faint, but too close to be from the party. I listen, knowing immediately that I’ve heard the song before. I just can’t place it.
I glance back into my dark room and debate returning to bed. Ultimately, the idea that there’s a party so close to me is too intriguing. The hinge creaks as I pull open the door, and I poke my head out to see if there’s anyone in the hallway. At first my eyelids flutter at the sudden brightness, but I quickly see that I’m all alone. The music seems to be coming from the end of the hall.
What is that song?
I open the security latch so I won’t get locked out, and then step barefoot into the hallway. I ease my door shut, taking another curious look around. The chords strum, like a guitar, slowly, too slow to make out the melody. When I leave the safety of the vicinity around my door, my heart starts to pound. My throat grows dry.
I study each door I pass, trying to find the source of the music. I’m not sure what time it is, but I know it’s insanely late for people to be awake. Late for them to be listening to a song on a loop. What song?
The temperature in the hallway starts to drop, colder the closer I get to the last door. I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing my shoulders when I start to shiver. I wish my brother and father were on this floor. I hate being alone. I’m almost to the last room—room 1336—when the music starts to fade, like someone is slowly turning down a knob.
I stop, the sense of being watched freezing me in place. I swallow hard, past the dryness in my throat, and peek behind me. Terrified that I’ll find someone (something) standing there.
But the music is gone. Now I’m barefoot in the hallway of the Hotel Ruby with uneven breaths and chilled skin. I look once more at the door and then turn to walk quickly back to my room. I slip inside and shut the door, my palm flat against it as I process my fear. For good measure I throw the locks and then move a chair in front of the door.
I stare at the handle and step backward toward my bed, sure I’ll see it turn at any moment. But as the time ticks by, as the sun starts to rise, my panic diminishes. I’m high strung, I tell myself. And maybe just a little drunk.
Eventually, I slide under the covers, exhausted and achy. Soon I’ll be asleep, and my real fears will find me, just as they normally do, to remind me of how I ruined my life.
I never got a chance to officially break up with Ryan. For weeks, months really, I imagined all the scenarios where I would say, “Ryan, I don’t love you anymore. I want to be friends.” He was my best friend, and not even one with benefits. I would shrink away when he tried to kiss me, find an excuse when he wanted to hold my hand. Ryan loved me the same way he always did. I couldn’t break his heart.
We were just shy of our two-year anniversary when I decided to finally do it. End our relationship. I’d cried the entire night before, mentally and emotionally preparing myself for what I was about to do. He would come to my house to pick me up for school, but before we left, I would tell him.
Instead, when I got downstairs that morning, my mother was there making breakfast. She never stayed late on school days. My stomach dropped because it meant another day—another day of pretending to be Ryan Martin’s girlfriend.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, bare feet on the cold linoleum tiles, ASU T-shirt clinging to my chest. “You’re supposed to be at work.”
My mother laughed from where she stood at the stove. That What drama has befallen you now? laugh a mom gets when she thinks her daughter is overreacting. “I don’t know, Audrey,” she said, turning away to pour a circle of pancake batter into the skillet. “Some people call it breakfast. It doesn’t always have to come out of a cereal box.”
“You can’t be here,” I told her. “You’re going to ruin everything.” Tears began to fill my eyes, and my mother pulled the pan off the heat and crossed the kitchen. She put her hands—hands that were always cooler than my skin—on my arms and steadied her gaze on mine.