***
Evan hated airports.
More specifically, he hated New York.
Where so many people saw a city rich in history and culture, Evan saw too many people and too much concrete. He would take Miami over New York City any day of the week. They both had diverse cultures and an electric atmosphere, but Miami had better weather and fewer people.
It was the people, he decided. The sheer number of people.
He hadn’t checked any luggage, so he didn’t have to wait before heading out into the smoggy morning. He hailed a cab, then held on for dear life while the man navigated toward the city. Evan stared out the window, his gut churning the closer they got to their destination.
He hadn’t slept for shit last night. He blamed that on the phone call with Becs. All day, he’d looked forward to hearing her voice, only to talk to her and find out her thoughts had taken a dark turn somewhere since their kiss on Saturday night. He probably shouldn’t have reacted so badly, but Evan couldn’t help it. What was the point in attempting to see where this went if she already doubted him?
The cabbie dumped him at the hotel and gave him almost enough time to get out before he was on his way to pick up someone else.
Shouldering his bag, Evan headed inside.
“Good morning,” the woman behind the check-in counter said with a pleasant, Monday-morning smile.
“Morning.”
“What’s the name on your reservation?”
“I don’t have one. I just need a single room for a day or two.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Evan saw the woman’s expression falter.
“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have any available rooms. If you don’t have a reservation…”
She let the sentence dangle, allowing him to fill it in however he wanted.
“I’ll take anything,” he said, hoping she would pull a room out of a hat.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“What about later? Do you have anyone checking out? I won’t need it until tonight anyway.”
She glanced at the screen, but Evan could tell she was merely placating him. When she looked back, he saw the truth in her eyes. Even if she had a cache of rooms set aside, he wouldn’t be getting one.
“Okay, then,” he said before walking away.
“Have a great day, sir,” she called after him.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Great day. Got it.”
He fucking hated New York.
Luckily, he still had options. Not ideal, but he could share a room with Slade. He’d take the couch; he didn’t care.
Dropping into one of the chairs in the lobby, he pulled out his phone. He shot Brantley a text to let him know he was there, then sent a quick one to Slade, letting him know he needed a place to crash.
The response from Brantley came almost immediately.
We’re finishing up at Saoirse’s apartment. She’s not here. Put your stuff in your room and meet us at the Monolith in thirty.
Can’t get a room. Hotel’s booked. I’ll take the couch in Slade’s room.
Shit. Slade’s sharing a room with Atticus. We’ll head back there. Give us twenty.
