I’ve been trapped inside this cursed game for five days, and it’s getting to me. It’s warping my perception, and I’ve already grown far too comfortable in this nostalgic wonderland. Here I am, unironically enjoying a plumeria-scented bubble bath, and I’ve consumed so many Capri-Suns, my blood might actually be part fruit punch at this point.
Worst of all, I want to kiss Penn. Not only because he’s a means to an end, and quite possibly my ticket out of here, but also because I’ve never felt all the synapses in my body firing the way they did when he held my hand. When he stood too close, holding me tightly.
I wonder what else I might be able to feel, and I want to find out.
Maybe it’ll be a win-win. Maybe I’ll like kissing Pennanditwill help me escape this game, once and for all, and I’ll have no memory of what happened. I’ll just return to my real life and feel like myself again. Comfortable, in control. Andnotnoticing Penn’s jawline.
My phone dings on the windowsill, and I roll sideways to eye the screen. When I read the notification, I jolt too quickly, water sloshing over the tub’s edge.
It’s a shared calendar invitation. For a calendar called PENBY.
Did he just give us acouple name?
And do I…not hate it?
I sink back into the water with a groan, submerging myself even lower. Only to be interrupted yet again. By Penn’s voice.
“Ruby?”
He’s knocking on the door. Of my bathroom.
I bounce upright, adding more water to the puddle beneath the tub. “Yes?”
“Sorry,” Penn calls. I can hear the lilt of regret so clearly in his voice that he must be speaking right into the crack of the door. “I came to talk about dinner, and your door was open, and…I should’ve waited.”
“No, it’s fine. You can, uh, come in.”
A pause. “Are you sure? Are you decent?”
A hot, full-body panic starts in my toes. I’m ass-naked, so no, I’m not what one might call “decent.” But there are plenty of bubbles, and I can sink a bit lower, and if I wait any longer to respond, it’ll only get more awkward. Besides, this helps my cause. Right?
“Yep,” I squeak out. “All good.”
What am I doing? What is he doing?
What thehellare we doing?
The turn of the doorknob seems to happen in slow motion, while my heart cartwheels in my chest. As Penn registers me in the bath, our gazes snag together.
“Hey.” His voice cracks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say.
Penn leans between the two sinks, gripping the counter behind him with both hands. He’s already showered and changed into black joggers and a white T-shirt. He’s shaved his face, too, the scruff a bit shorter than it was this afternoon. I try not to think about why.
His eyes drift to the water, then rise to meet mine. The moment feels too intimate: holding his stare in this silent room, wearing nothing at all. His lips part, but he says nothing, his attention suddenly focused on the tile floor beneath him.
This is fine. Normal.
We’re just two former neighbors turned frenemies turned roommates who hold hands and sometimes sit in the bathroom while the other one’s naked because why not?
“Penby,” I deadpan, trying to get us back on familiar ground. “How cute.”
He tips me a mischievous look. “Thought you’d like that.”
A second ticks by, then another, and neither of us says anything. It’s unnerving. Going by the fear splashed across his features, he’s overwhelmed, too, which makes me feel a little better, actually.
I feel a zing of adrenaline. A bit of that control I’ve been craving.
