“That just made my entire life,” she continues to chuckle, unzipping her bag to retrieve a cardboard box. “I thought I was going to heave before I got you to try it. Alas, you’re more influenced by peer pressure than I thought. Here, dig in.”
Pushing the cardboard box my way, I flick it open cautiously. A stir fry awaits, packed with protein and fresh vegetables. Even after the burger monstrosity, my mouth waters.
“You shouldn’t be wasting the cash I brought on pranks,” I chastise, although I’m clearly distracted by the smell wafting around my face. I’m certain nothing has ever smelled this good.
“I will happily starve for the rest of the trip. That was beyond worth it.” Meg laughs. I’m hung up on her referring to ‘the trip’, as if we’re just two friends on a scenic adventure. I suppose it’s nice to forget what’s on the horizon and focus on the here and now, despite how tragic it has been so far.
Meg retrieves her own box of food before handing me a plastic fork, and I dive in, forgetting all sense of etiquette. My stomach churns at the sudden onslaught but I don’t let up, the spice burning my throat as I devour every last bite.
Across from me, Meg pulls her hair into a loose knot. An oversized hoodie swallows her frame, the hem resting against the thighs of her tight leggings. She watches me with a raised brow over her large, blue eyes, eating with far more decorum than I can manage right now. I let her take the win, becoming surprisingly comfortable with being the object of her humor. Huh, maybe there is more to enjoy about her than her stubbornness.
That thought shifts something fundamental in my mind, rocking the core of my convictions in a way I’m not entirely prepared for. I still, confusion dancing between my eyes as I lower the plastic fork into the empty container. The shift in my demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed, but Meg doesn’t challenge me either, only glancing at me from beneath her lashes before focusing back on her food. There’s a faint flush in her cheeks that I can only put down to our close proximity. This is different from being on the pitch or at each other’s throats. In fact, it’s more casual than we’ve ever been. New territory indeed.
I clean up, taking out the garbage so we don’t have to sit in the aroma of grease and spices. At least, that’s the excuse I make. Honestly, I just need a moment to clear my head, pacing outsideof the door to steady my breathing and get my mindset back on track. We’re here to rediscover Meg’s tenacity. That’s what I’m supposed to be focusing on.
By the time I decide I can’t lurk outside anymore without someone calling the cops for suspicious behavior, I find Meg tucked beneath the covers and flicking through static channels on a huge boxy television on the dresser. The room is dim now, the flickering light casting uneven shadows across her face, softening her expression. Curled up on her side, strands of her hair have fallen loose to frame her jaw.
I don’t disturb her, nor do I comment on her side glance when I emerge from the bathroom in just my boxers, damp from a hasty shower. Roughly drying my hair, I toss the provided hand towel aside and slip into bed, hyper-aware of her presence beside me. There’s a pause of discomfort before Meg reaches back for two of her limp pillows and stuffs them in-between us as a clear boundary line.
“Just in case you get handsy later,” she grunts, settling on some gameshow from the eighties, her voice roughened by exhaustion. I scoff, folding my arms across my chest and staring up at the cracked ceiling.
“Trust me, if I wanted to get handsy, a pillow wall wouldn’t stop me.”
“My lack of consent should,” Meg throws back and I bark a sharp laugh.
“Out of the two of us, I assure you I have the most restraint. But if you do feel like breaching the wall at any point, just know that there won’t be any complaints from this side.”
The glare Meg gives me is glacial, and weirdly, it warms my chest. I soak in her resentment as if it were the sun’s rays, using it to settle the unease within. As long as Meg is annoyed at me, as long as I have her attention, everything is right in the world.
Chapter Forty One
Just as I’m starting to drift to sleep, just when I’ve grown accustomed to the lumpy mattress, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. My eyes snap open, hand darting out instinctively. Once it’s secure in my grip, I hold the device close to my chest, feeling the hammering of my heart. Thankfully, there’s no movement behind me. No shift in breathing, no questions, no sign that Everest has become alert. I release a long breath and peer at the screen, effectively blinding myself in the process.
Thi:Tell me you haven’t murdered him yet.
Pulling the thin sheet higher over my head, creating a small hollow, I don’t fight my smile as I adjust the phone’s brightness.
Meg:He’s still breathing. That’s all I can confirm.
Thi:Disappointing. I had money on you snapping his neck within the first hour.
I press my lips together, a quiet huff escaping through my nose. I did consider various options whilst feigning sleep in the back of Everest’s sports car. One was to secretly sabotage this entire mission so I could hold my hands up and say, oh well, we tried. But then I pictured Laura and knew my nerves or trauma or whatever other reservations I’m having will have to be put on hold for the next few days.
Next, I toyed with the idea of giving Everest actual food poisoning to slow us down for a few days, then I remembered we’re sharing a room and there’s a side of Everest I don’t ever need to hear or see. And the third option of throwing myself out of the car whilst doing ninety on the freeway was cancelled out by the same argument as option one, so here I am. Going along with Everest’s scheme in the hopes that something good will come out of it.
Meg:I’ve shown incredible restraint. You should be proud.
At Thiago’s short pause, I shift slightly. The sheet brushes roughly against my legs, and I already regret wearing short shorts and a cami. Just more exposed skin for the bedmites to access. My phone vibrates in my hand once more, before I have the good sense to put the ‘do not disturb’ on.
Thi:I always am.
My stomach somersaults over itself. Heat creeps up my neck, blossoming across my face. Thiago knows better than to be charming me in the effortless way he does. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I fight with myself for the right response. In the end, I settle for…
Meg:Don’t start.
Thi:Start what, Amorzinha? I’m just lying here in bed, thinking of you. All tucked up and warm and alone.
My eyes flick up to the tiny camera above the screen. Surely he hasn’t hacked my phone’s feed, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t keeping tabs on me in other ways. Whether through a camera across the road or the alias the receptionist typed into her aged computer, Thiago will know I’m sharing a room with Everest. Now, he’s goading me.
