Page 56 of The Fast Lane
As the door was closing behind me, I heard Tammy say, “So I guess that means you aren’t related then?”
TWENTY-FOUR
Note to self:
Get a better inner voice.
I’d been staring at the ceiling of my hotel room for what felt like hours, asking myself the burning life questions we all had. What was the point of popcorn ceilings? Who thought that’d be a good idea? Was it a decorating decision?
Maybe back in the seventies, which was when this motel’s décor had clearly last been updated, an interior designer decided a popcorn ceiling went great with this wood paneling. Or maybe it went well with the burnt orange wallpaper covered in stagecoaches and cowboys and saloon girls on one of the walls. Then again, the saloon doors in place of a bathroom door were pretty classy.
I was contemplating popcorn ceilings with way too much seriousness. But I wasn’t sure what else to do with myself.
When Theo got back to the car, he handed me my room key—an actual key with an oversized plastic keychain in the shape of a cowboy hat—and I scurried away with a mumbled thanks. I’d begged off dinner, raided the motel vending machine, and holed up with my laptop and the spotty Wi-Fi to check on a few clients, googled horror stories of accidentally kissing your brother’s best friend (which existed in spades, thank you, Reddit), talked to my mom (soothed her worries), texted Mae and Ellie something generic, took my meds, tried to write in my journal but couldn’t form a proper complete sentence, and climbed into bed.
It was only nine twenty-four. For the last forty-five minutes, I’d been lying here, desperately trying to think of anything but the feel of Theo’s lips on mine, the way his fingers had tangled in my hair, how right it had all felt.
What if he thought I’d kissed him on purpose? It had been an accident. A terrible, awful, wonderful, amazing accident.
You could have stopped it, a voice in my head said.
I think we both got caught up in the moment.
Uh-huh.
It didn’t mean anything.
Sure. It meant nothing.
Does everyone’s inner voice sound like a sarcastic customer service rep? It was a mistake.
Liar.
Oh, shut up.
I rolled over on my stomach and buried my face in a pillow. Get it together, Ramos. You are not sixteen. You are a grown woman. A grown woman who can handle one little accidental kiss. I’m sure it happened all the time, right?
Someone knocked on my door.
I sat up and stared, holding my breath.
More knocking, a bit more insistent.
“I’m sleeping,” I said.
“Nice try,” Theo said back.
“Go away.”
“No.”
Okay, fine, I’d play it cool, pretend like nothing happened. I grabbed a grungy old University of Texas hoodie I’d stolen from one of my brothers, slipped it over my sleep tank, and marched to the door.
“Hi,” Theo said when I opened it. He was still in his shorts and t-shirt, his hair messy as though he’d been running his fingers through it. A takeout bag dangled from his fingers. “I got you something, in case you got hungry.”
“Oh, um, thanks, I’m fine.” My stomach rumbled loudly and with feeling.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Are you sure?”