Aria picked up the bag of Scrabble tiles and gave it a swift shake. “If I pick one more vowel, I’m going to lose my mind.”
She plunged her hand into the bag, selected a tile, and turned it over in her hand. An E. “Oh my God,” she said dramatically, falling back on the mattress. “I’m doomed. Can E-I-E-I-O count as an Old MacDonald word?”
Noel mustered a weak smile. As he rearranged the tiles on his Scrabble shelf, his gaze slid toward the window. The sun was high in the sky. “Can’t we go out for just a little bit?” It came out as a whine.
Aria’s mouth twitched. “I’d rather not.”
Noel stood up from their hotel bed and wandered to the chaise in the corner. The room in the little Belgian suburb was much plushier and more expensive than Aria would have preferred to stay in, but they’d gotten off the train in the middle of nowhere, and this was all they could find. At first, they’d tried to make the best of it: Aria marveled over the hotel’s library, claiming it would keep them busy for days. When she found the Scrabble game tucked onto one of the shelves in the lounge, she made a huge deal out of challenging Noel to a tournament. She’d talked up the hotel gym and said they could watch movies. Staying there was going to be so much fun!
But none of the machines in the gym worked. The movies for purchase were all in Dutch or German without subtitles. It seemed like everything on the hotel restaurant menu featured pickled herring, and Aria was pretty sure the Scrabble game was missing most of the consonant tiles.
She wanted to believe what Noel kept insisting: The guy on the train didn’t know who she was. Look at all the articles, after all—they said she was in Sweden, or Spain, and one even mentioned Morocco!
But all last night, paranoid thoughts had spiraled in her mind. The safest thing to do was to lie low in the room until everything blew over. She’d tried to make it fun and sexy, giving Noel a massage, dancing for him to Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” on VH1, fantasizing about the many places they’d visit in Japan. She’d even let him win at Scrabble. But you could only make a 300-square-foot hotel room fun for so long. It was Friday now. She was running out of things to do.
She picked up the remote and turned on the TV, clicking it to CNN International, searching for news about the trial. Aria was pretty sure closing statements were today. And what was going on with Hanna and Mike’s wedding? Noel had said he’d seen a newscast about that in the Amsterdam airport. If only she could just look online, but she feared someone tracking her search. Even tuning in on TV felt criminal.
Noel grabbed the remote from her and switched to another station that looked like the Dutch version of the Food Network. “You’re worrying too much,” he said. “You have to calm down. We have the fake passports. We’ve been careful. And besides, I came all the way to Europe to find you.” He fluttered his eyelashes. “At the very least you could show me some of the sights, you know?”
Aria swallowed hard and looked out the window. Maybe Noel was right. And it was true—he had come all this way. This couldn’t exactly be fun for him. Maybe if she put on the blond wig and some sunglasses, she’d be fine.
“Okay,” she conceded. “Let’s go out for a bit. Just nowhere too public, okay?”
“Thank God.” Noel’s face flooded with relief. “I was starting to lose it in here.”
It was chilly outside, so they put on hoodies and scarves. The blond wig made Aria’s scalp itch, but she didn’t dare go out without it. The walk down to the elevator was okay, mostly because there was no one in the hallway. So was the stroll through the lobby—the clerk was looking at something on her computer screen, paying no attention to them. But as soon as they hit the street, Aria’s throat began to close. It seemed like everyone on the sidewalk had frozen and was looking at her. Was the doorman peering at them strangely? What was that guy doing across the street, just staring into his cell phone?
“I saw a cool-looking café a few blocks away,” Noel said. “Want to go there?”
“Uh . . .” Aria touched the blond strands of her wig. She couldn’t imagine going somewhere so public. But maybe the café was dark inside. Maybe they could be escorted to a private room. Maybe no one in the place would have seen the APB with her face on it. Act normal, she told herself.
She started down the street, her hand tightly gripping Noel’s. Halfway down the block, she noticed a black sedan parked across the street. Its windows were tinted, but she could just make out that someone was inside. As they turned left, the sedan’s lights flipped on, and the car began to slowly creep after them.
She dug her nails into Noel’s arm. “I think that car is following us.”
“What?” Noel swiveled around.
Aria dug her nails harder. “Don’t look.”
Noel sighed loudly. “No one’s after us.”