I have to hold onto hope, no matter how blind it is, that she will be our girl one day.
The three of us spread out, like we’ve done hundreds of times before, and tuck into our sandwiches. We’re joking around, chattering away about bullshit, when a soft voice interrupts us.
“Uh. Hi.”
She’s behind me.
Holy shit, she’s behind me.
I stop breathing, and my body goes rigid. I don’t know what to do or say, and my packmates seem to be similarly frozen.
“Guys? I’m not a dinosaur. I know you’re there even if you’re not moving.”
Ivan is the first to recover. He jumps to his feet, holding out his hand like he’s welcoming her to a business luncheon.
“I’m Ivan Miller. We talked through the door.”
I peek over my shoulder and see a pretty flush stain on her cheeks.
“Ariana Cooley.”
Oh, and it is a beautiful name. I roll it around on my tongue, speaking it silently, getting used to the way it feels. Hearing it from her is way different than hearing it from Grant.
“Are you hungry, sweetie? I’m not a chef or anything, but I make a mean turkey sandwich.” Ivan gestures at the plate next to me, the one I have been studiously avoiding looking at. “The secret is two different kinds of mustard—plain yellowanddijon. Don’t tell anyone, though.”
Her eyes land on a camera in the corner of the room. “I think the secret’s out, Ivan.”
He blows a raspberry over his shoulder in the direction of the camera. “Well, maybe they’ll edit it out to protect my trade secrets. Who knows how much of this they’ll air?”
The chair beside me squeaks a little as she pulls it out. “Can I sit here?” I nod, speechless, as she lowers herself stiffly onto it and folds her hands on her lap.
I may have heard her voice just a little bit ago through the television, but here, beside me? It’s the sweetest music in the world.
“I’m Derrick.” I force myself to make eye contact with her, to watch the way her face transforms and flickers with her thoughts as she stares at me.
“Derrick.” She says my name slowly, carefully. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She picks up her sandwich and takes a bite, and the silence around us is thick and uncomfortable. After a few moments, she clears her throat.
“Do you have the card?”
“What card?” Grant asks as he leans onto his elbows.
“Today’s challenge. Did they send it in with you?”
Oh.
That card.
Amid the chaos, I forgot that we have actual challenges to complete while we’re in here. One for each day, if their pattern holds up.
“Yeah, I have it.” It’s a bit crumpled from being shoved in my pocket, so I have to smooth it out on the table as I pull it from the envelope.
“Wait, that’s it?” She’s leaning around me, her shoulder nearly brushing mine, and my heart beats a desperate rhythm in my chest. She smells like summertime, like sweet treats and ice cream trucks. I want to touch her. I want to pull her close and bury my face in her neck.
But I don’t.
I can’t. Not yet. I can’t scare her off by revealing how obsessed I am with her so soon.
