“It is the worst.”
“You can do it,” I promised.
Everyone stared. Succumbing to peer pressure, Betty threw the shot back. The bar erupted in a song once more, butBetty was clearly over it. I nodded in the direction of a quiet hallway off the speakeasy we set up in. Slowly, we made our way over, the Danes and Norwegians distracted with drink and ridiculously inappropriate sea shanties.
Betty kept her voice low. “Why did you ghost me?”
I breathed deeply and rubbed my temples. “Betty, I googled the address you gave the driver. I went down an Internet rabbit hole, found out who your brother was, then realized whoyouwere, and decided this could not be a thing.”
“Why? I mean, right now, I’ll grant you the timing isn’t great, but I’m still the same person?—”
“This has got to be some sort of experiment, right? You torture me, take me home, and then we hook up with homeboy out there?”
Betty’s face pulled in a pained way, making me immediately regret my words. She turned to step away, but her heel got caught on a cracked tile, and she went down. I stepped in, catching Betty as she was about to fall. Slowly, I put her back on her feet.
“I’m sorry. I keep saying the wrong things in hopes you will go the fuck away.”
“Well, thanks. I’m glad you feel that way!” Her tears welled.
“No. I… I don’t want that. I’m just bad at being open and shit at dating, Betty. And I like you. That scares me. My last relationship ended badly.”
“That’s a you thing! Don’t take it out on me. I like you, too. But you didn’t really care about how I felt. You made that choice for the both of us. For the record, Hank is just here as moral support. He’s my coach.”
“Oh.” I looked at her ruby-red shoes, feeling stupid.
Betty put her hand on my arm reassuringly. “You aren’t someone I want to toy with. I don’t even know what to do about you. I like you a lot. I am drawn to you. Your voice sends shivers down my spine. I wish I could get away with kissingyou right now—despite how much I really want to torture you—but I know I shouldn’t.”
“The dress did the job, so no more torture, please,” I joked.
“I want to talk and explain a few things,” Betty said, “but not here.”
“You could come up to my room?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t mean it like that. I’m sharing with Clarice. It’s just to talk?—”
“No, I cannot be caught in your room. We gotta be totally above board.” She looked around. “If you weren’t famous, I wouldn’t worry, but every queer woman in Trondheim wants to fuck you and everyone else just thinks you’re ‘super cool’ so that’s not a great idea.”
“You really think more of me than I do?—”
She spoke with huskiness, “I think about you too much, yes.”
“What if we went back to yours? I could like hide in a trunk. But you’d have to bring me back here super early. I must fly out of here back to the UK at ten. So, I have to be there by eight.”
“My place is like 15 minutes from the airport,” Betty said. “I could drop you tomorrow. But like… you don’t have to hide in a trunk. My people can get us out of here no problem. Is that cool? What about your stuff?”
“I will have Clarice wrangle the roadies and my luggage,” I said. “Just give me a minute.”
I had no clue if things were fixed, but it was a shot. I would take it if she gave me the time of day.
Chapter 18
Over the Edge
MARY
“Your house isn’t what I expected,” I wandered across Betty’s pink, floral bedroom.
