Page 20 of Live for Me

“Oh, no,” Indy said from the phone. “Did I just cock block you for real, hoss? That’s my bad.”

Utah laughed while my whole face turned into lava.

“Good night, angel.”

I thought I’d escape just by making it into the hallway, but the man stepped right outside his door to lean against the doorframe and watch me take the two whole steps to my own door. He was at least nice enough not to laugh while I tried to put the key card in the door the wrong way—fucking twice—before I figured it out and got the door open.

I wasn’t sure to what extent I was supposed to feel embarrassed over that entire encounter. On a scale ofI hate myself a little right nowtowhy in the absolute fuck am I the way that I fucking am, it was probably somewhere in the middle.

So, it could’ve been worse.

I forced my brain to stop thinking about it.

To stop thinking about him.

I checked all my banking information and the security cameras for the house in Tupelo, like I did every night before I went to bed. The next day would be a very different kind of new experience for me, and I needed at least a little sleep before then.

How Utah went through the next morning like the previous night hadn’t involved forehead kisses, top of the head kisses, and skin contact was fucking mind-blowing.

Until realizing that they probably weren’t mind-blowing experiences for him put me right into a depression pit, because men like him were used to actual sex. Not tiny moments of stolen intimacy with a girl who was so unsure of herself that she awkwardly ran away like a baby deer at the slightest hint of physical connection.

I waited uncomfortably in the corner of what used to be a classroom for elementary-aged kids. As far as Indy and I could tell, this school had been abandoned since the 1960s. And it showed. It smelled bad, parts of the structure were collapsing, it was no longer connected to a power source or running water, and it was most definitely haunted. Demons lived in places like this. Which probably should’ve been frightening, but when you were already familiar with the horrifying things that humans did to one another, something crawling out of the fires of hell was really the least of my worries.

I watched Utah meticulously set up a corner of this room to his liking. It was nauseatingly similar to the things I’d seen serial killers do in movies to prevent leaving evidence, to prevent too large of a mess to clean afterward. I really hadn’t put much thought into such a thing previously, but prepping a torture room didn’t seem like it was something that should’ve been so peaceful, so methodical, and calming.

But here was this man, dancing his way in between dragging old school desks and chairs around to make space for a giant sheet of plastic on the floor while music from someone named Bailey Zimmerman blared from the speaker he’d placed on the desk beside me. He sang along with every single word, like it didn’t matter at all that I was watching and listening to everything he did. I had my phone out to catch one of his absurd little spin moves while he carried a weird combination of golf clubs, baseball bats, and what looked like lawn care tools across the room.

I stared at the picture of him before I considered whether I was sending it to Indy and Triss, or just keeping it for myself.

He was—cute?

Which was a weird fucking way to imagine the guy, given the circumstances around what he was currently doing.

I ended up smiling while I typed out the message to go with the picture to my misfit corn crew friends.

Me

Torture with a side of Footloose for breakfast today.

Triss

Is he dancing?! Why did he wait until I was gone to get cool?

Indy

I think it probably has more to do with Jersey’s absence than it did your presence.

Indy

But he’s still really not that cool. He’s just high on love fumes this morning. Isn’t he, Memphis?

Triss

Somebody better explain that text right the fuck now.

I shoved my phone into my backpack so very quickly after that.

“Everything okay?” Utah asked, much to my horror when I realized he’d watched what was happening.

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