I know they say most people do it because they care, but it’s really not that hard to worry about yourself and let other people’s lives unfold how they’re meant to. Everyone has to be in everyone’s business. It’s exhausting to witness and infuriating to experience.
But with Kate, I find her meddling endearing. I find everything she does endearing, which shows how far gone I am. There’s just something about Katherine Stanley that penetrated deep inside me the moment I laid eyes on her, and no amount of her incessant meddling can push me away.
An elderly couple in nothing but towels emerges from the elevator, leaving behind a trail of water as they shuffle past. Kate’s mumbles fill the space as I hold the door open for her before pressing our floor.
“I just don’t understand why you won’t talk to me about it—or anyone, for that matter.” She doesn’t take a breath. “Not just your therapist either. I think people who truly know you can help you more than someone with a fancy degree.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she blows a curl out of her face and stares at me.
“Isn’t your best friend someone with a fancy degree?” I air quote with one hand, mostly because I refuse to use both hands, and I’m still holding my empty coffee cup.
“Technicalities.” She waves me off then proceeds to huff dramatically at the millisecond of silence that follows.
I love silence. I thrive in it. But silence with Kate is maddening because I know what’s going on in her head. She’s either overthinking or spiraling. Either way, it’s not fun for the person witnessing her silence. “Kate.” I rest my head against the elevator wall. “I’m not going to talk about this right now.”
“Why? Why not?” Her tone is a cross between a scold and a plea.
“Because we have a busy day, and it’s more than just a five-minute conversation. You know that.”
We make our way down the hall toward our room, dodging the maid cart and a rather large family racing past us to catch the elevator we just exited. Our room has already been turned over, with fresh linens and towels placed neatly on top of the comforter.
The comforter.
I rustle my hair and rush off to the bathroom. My face feels hot thinking about it, what I did, how weak and vulnerable I must have looked to her.
“You’re going to have to talk to me about it eventually,” she calls after me as I shut the bathroom door.
I will, but definitely not today, and probably not this week. This week is about me turning on the charm and being irresistible. Last I checked, having bad dreams is not an irresistible quality.
I freshen up and splash water on my face, reminding myself of my goal.
Get out of the friend zone.
“Let it go. It happened. You can’t change it,” I whisper to myself. “Focus on the mission. Be charming, witty, irresistible.”Get your girl, Malcolm.
“I’ll just force it out of you, you know!” Kate bellows from across the hotel room.
I open the bathroom door slowly, and Kate eyes me suspiciously. Kate’s pestering is also maddening, but dammit, I’m still hooked on her. There is only one way to get her to drop this conversation, and I have to act fast. I inhale slowly, building up to do one of the most annoying things I could ever do, solely because anytime Kate has seen this in a movie or read about it in a book, she gets so flustered she forgets to breathe. It seems a little ridiculous, if you ask me, but this simple move seems to work wonders on her.
So, to test ifIcan make her flustered too, I do it.
I rest my arms above my head and lean against the doorframe, flashing her a mischievous smile. "A little force might be fun," I tease.
Sure enough, she sucks in a breath, cheeks splotching red as her eyes stay pinned on my arms overhead.
Flustered.
Chapter fourteen
Kate
We need to talk
Like right now
On the second ring, I say, “We have a problem.”
“What’s wrong?” Ellie’s voice is a frantic whisper on the other end.
The Florida heat bakes the tops of my shoulders as I pace in front of the hotel’s valet port. “Everything! Something happened, and I don’t know what to do!” My whispers are borderline hysterical, catching the attention of the valet attendant, who has conveniently craned his neck to listen in on my conversation.
