“New England.” Her tone is cautious. I get it. I’m a stranger. At least she’s street smart. “What about you?”
“I’m a unicorn.”
“A what?”
“Born in Nashville, still live there. We’re a dying breed.”
She snorts again. It’s far from ladylike, and I silently decide I like that about her. “Ah, so you’re not an aspiring countrymusic star following his dreams? With your blinding charisma, it’s the ideal career for you.”
I recline, ignoring the blunt object sticking into my spine. “Sadly, I’m hideous. There isn’t a single record label that’ll sign me.”
“Oh my god. A joke. Who knew you had it in you?” She bumps her shoulder into mine.
“No.” My voice is rigid, though my lips quiver in amusement. “I’m covered in boils. Crooked teeth. Four nipples—one on my forehead.”
She’s silent for a beat before laughter pierces the air. Her body shakes uncontrollably as a delightful melody bounces off the walls. Maybe being one sense down heightens my hearing; either way, it’s one of the loveliest sounds I’ve heard in a long while.
I swallow when the shelf stops vibrating. “What do you look like?”
“Me? Disgusting. I don’t even have teeth; it’s all gum. Don’t get me started on the full-body rash. The doctor said it isn’t contagious. I’m not too sure.”
“Sounds like we’d make the perfect couple.”
Her laugh rings out again. Apart from my nephew, I’m not typically known as the funny guy. I’d like to make Harriet laugh again.
“What are your plans to celebrate once we’re out of here?” I stretch my legs out, and the movement causes our hands to brush. She doesn’t flinch, and I don’t move away.
People do the craziest things when forced in confined spaces.
“Hmm, I’ll probably head home soon.” She pauses. “My friends and I have been here all afternoon, and my bed is calling my name.”
“Bed? What are you, sixty?” I tease, our pinkies graze.
“Did I not mention that? My bad. Blame the old age.”
My smile feels foreign as my mouth twitches on one side.
I can just make out her shallow breathing. Something tickles my arms every now and again, and I realize it’s her hair. It must be long, maybe reaching her waist? I also have a hunch she’s not short, maybe half a foot smaller than my six three by the way our shoulders align.
“What about you?” Her voice pitches a little at the end.
Same old shit.Avoid going home. Clock less than four hours sleep.
But I don’t say that, and a tiny part of me doesn’t want to either. The desire to be someone else takes over. I don’t have to be the Warren my friends and family know. Harriet is a stranger, and we’ll likely never see one another again after tonight.
They must be pumping this room full of nitrous oxide, because suddenly, the idea of being locked in here with her isn’t so bad. She’s fun, witty, and doesn’t retreat at my irritable attitude.
I clear my throat, pulse hammering in my neck. This is not where I saw the evening heading. “If you’re not too busy, maybe you’ll let me buy you an apology slash birthday drink when we get out of here.”
“Oh.” She straightens in surprise. “I guess?—”
I don’t find out if she’s surprised in a good or a bad way. Banging on the other side of the door cuts off her response.
Then, it flies open, and bright white light floods the room.
FOUR
WARREN
