Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Oh . . .”
“Grab your shoes,” Camila tells me.
But I don’t move. In fact, I actively resist Lara’s tugging. “I’m pretty full. I just ate a cheeseburger.”
“Sooo?” Lara drawls, waving her pointer finger in a circle like she’s waiting for me to get to the point. “You always say you have a dessert column and a dinner column. So . . . this should be no problem.”
Okay. I didn’t think I’d need to come up with another excuse here.
I sigh, sounding exhausted. “I’ve had a long day.”
Camila drops her chin and glares at me from beneath her eyebrows. “Paige.”
“You don’t have to stay,” Cole says behind me, giving me the out.
And yeah, okay, but what if I want to stay? What if, for once, I did the thing that I truly want to do deep down, which is to hang out with Cole and actually admit that we enjoy each other’s company?
“I think I’ll just stay here . . . ,” I say noncommittally. It’s like, well, I’m already in the hotel room so it’s not like I can just walk out, you know? I have to find my shoes, and it’ll be a whole big thing.
But they don’t buy it.
“Holy shit,” Camila says, covering her mouth with her hands while she laughs with glee. “It’s happening! It’s finally happening!”
“What’s happening?” I ask, feeling like I’ve been left out of the loop.
Lara doesn’t answer me. She’s looking at Camila like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’s fluttering her hands in front of her face.
I turn back to Cole to see if he can make sense of any of this, but he just shakes his head and turns back to the TV.
“Right, well, see you later, weirdos. Enjoy your cookies.”
Then I shut the door so I can willingly spend the rest of my night with Cole.
There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.
Chapter Twenty
PAIGE
The dust has barely settled on the closed door before buyer’s remorse sets in about my decision. Not about hanging back with Cole—not at all. It’s about turning down the cookies. I should have gotten more information. Like are they the thick, gooey ones or the thin, crunchy ones? What chocolate-chip-to-dough ratio are we talking about here?
I chew on my bottom lip.
Cole’s still by the TV with the remote. He’s given up finding anything worthwhile. Now, he watches me.
“Why do you look sad? You didn’t have to stay with me.”
“No,” I rush out. “It’s not that. I just kind of regret not going to get something sweet.”
“You want something sweet?” He sets down the remote on the dresser and turns toward me. Already the cogs are spinning.
“Yeah. You?”
He tilts his head back and forth like he’s letting the idea roll around his brain. “Yeah, I could do something sweet.”
So it’s decided then.
“Get your shoes,” he tells me.
We head for the second-floor vending machines. I know that somewhere in the world there are newfangled vending machines that accept Venmo and retinal scans, but Siesta Playa has the old-timers that take coins and cash and complain about walking five miles to school, uphill. I have no cash on me because I never carry cash. I’m a card girl. Cole’s only got a twenty, and the machines only accept one-dollar bills, so we make a pit stop down at reception, and Cole has them break it and give him change. All quarters. We need a bag to carry them all.
I’m already excited about what candy I’m going to buy, but when we arrive at the second-floor vending machine, we find it’s been totally cleared out. Everything is out of stock save for a desiccated Honey Bun wedged between two rings.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Everything? They got everything?!”
We both know who did it. One of the preppers got it in their head that we weren’t going to provide them three meals a day, I bet. He’s probably running some underground snack cartel out of his hotel room and charging people exorbitant prices. “Listen, I don’t make the rules. You want the M&M’s or not?”
“What do we do now?” I ask, turning to Cole.
We can’t give up. My sweet tooth is aching.
“Downstairs, near the gym,” Cole says with no further explanation. There’s no need. I know he’s thinking of where another vending machine is.
Lo and behold, that one’s cleared out too.
“What the hell!” Cole erupts.
He’s as mad as I am now. I don’t even suggest giving up and going back to the room. Either we get candy or we die trying.
We both look at each other and say, at the same time, “Twelfth floor.”
The twelfth floor has been undergoing renovations for the last few weeks because of water damage caused by a leak. No guests are allowed on the floor, but we are. We take the stairs up from the eleventh floor and push open the heavy door. Cole looks both ways, determining whether the coast is clear. Then we traipse right through the construction site. Considering it’s after dinner, the crew’s probably gone anyway.