“I do trust you,” she said. “It’shim.”
“He’s harmless,” Phoebe said, waving this off. “Before Vi picked me up yesterday, he offered to drive me home because I had a blister. Dude’s a total softie.”
Arden shot me a dubious look. I wouldn’t categorize Dex as a softie, by any means, but he’d revealed small, softer factions of himself in the short time we’d known him. A tissue, a ride home in the rain, a Sorry for Your Loss that didn’t feel like obligation so much as understanding. He remained a mystery, but something deep in my bones whispered we were the same.
“Sure. Harmless,” Arden said. “But we definitely need a code word. Use ‘papaya’ in a sentence if he’s holding a gun to your head.”
“How would we use ‘papaya’ in a normal sentence?” I asked. She rolled her eyes.
“?‘I’ve been craving some juicy papaya.’?”
“Ew. I’m not going to say that.”
“I hope to God you won’t have to.”
I opened my mouth to argue and Phoebe held the camera out, angled toward us, a flash immediately blinding us.
“My eyes!” Arden wailed as I rubbed the stars from my eyes.
“Whoops,” Phoebe said. “Is there a way to turn the flash off?”
I dropped my hands, squinting at her blurry form on the couch wielding the Polaroid camera. “Why would you choose that moment?”
“This is the beginning of the trip. I want to remember it.” She held the camera up to her eye, angling it around the room before setting it down on the couch cushion beside her. Shepinched the photograph of Arden and me between her fingers and shook it. “Plus, your face was really funny when Arden said ‘juicy papaya.’?”
“She’s not wrong,” Arden said. “But you’re not supposed to shake Polaroids.”
Phoebe froze. “What? Really?”
“Yeah. It could alter the chemicals and make the picture all wonky,” I mentioned. Phoebe studied the photo, tilting her head slightly.
“Huh. Doesn’t look wonky to me. Except your face.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nobody is photogenic when they’re blinded.”
“You look like you’re about to sneeze. Arden looks like a goddess.”
Arden beamed. “I was discovered at a mall in high school by a modeling agent. My absolute nightmare, of course, but it was so flattering.”
“From what you’ve told me about that interaction,” I said, “that guy was not a modeling agent.”
Phoebe gasped. “Oh my god, Arden. You were almost true crimed in high school?”
“He was an agent! He said I could be the next Kate Moss!”
“He asked if you’d ever do tasteful nudes.”
Arden threw up an exasperated hand. “I looked older than I was at sixteen!”
“Gross.” Phoebe hopped to her feet, weighing the camera in her hands. “So, do we think we’re staying in, like, hotels? Or Airbnbs?”
Arden leveled her gaze on me, awaiting the answer to this question. I drummed my fingers on my thigh, scrunching up my nose. I’d texted Dex last night telling him I had a tiny bit of savingsI could contribute to the budget, to which he replied:There’s no budget. Don’t worry about it.
The nonprofit had to be a front for some Heisenberg-level shit.
“No idea,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “But Dex seems to have pretty high standards, so I would guess hotels.”
“Swanky,” Arden said, lifting a brow. I shrugged. “Tomorrow, huh?”
