“But this isn’t what was promised,” she says sharply. “They’re watching a movie about a prostitute.”
My jaw tightens. I should have taken time to think about this one, I guess.
“I understand that,” I say. “And I’ll make sure?—”
Behind me, the door opens again.
“Ty…”
I turn to find Liam, his expression is tight but apologetic.
“Owen’s locked himself out of the building,” he says under his breath. “I’ll be right back.”
I wave a hand in the air. “Go take care of it.”
He takes a look at the two of us, hesitates for half a second, then jogs off, leaving me standing there with a beet-red Danielle and a room full of excited girls behind that door.
Alone.
My phone buzzes again.
Louder now. Or maybe it just feels that way.
Danielle crosses her arms again. “So what’s the plan here?”
The sounds from inside the room bleed through the door—voices rising, again, the movie playing, something scraping across the floor.
My brain tries to catch all of it at once.
Her voice.
The noise.
The phone.
It doesn’t sort.
It stacks.
I press my thumb hard against the side of my phone, trying to find a port in the storm. I need one thing. Only one, but I don’t know which thing to pick.
My brain stalls. It’s not empty, this is so much worse. It’s too full.
Danielle is still talking. The room behind the door is still moving, voices rising and falling in uneven waves. My phone buzzes again in my hand, the vibration sharp against my palm.
I can’t sort it.
I can’t?—
Pick one. Pickone.
“Ty?” Danielle says, sharper now. “What’s the plan?”
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
I force a breath in, reaching for something—anything—that usually helps.
My fingers find the ring. I twist it once. Twice. Again. Faster. It should ground me. It doesn’t.
