Page 18 of The Best Wrong Move

“New York.” I shift my eyes to Rex.

“No kidding!” she squeals. “That’s where Rex is from too!”

“No shit,” I mutter, unamused. “Small world.”

“I guess a lot of people are from New York.” She beams, nudging me. “But still, what are the odds?”

Rex looks like he wants this conversation to end right here, like I just let the cat out of the bag. He’s clearly not ready to tell Juju about us.

Rex’s profile was the only thing visible about him in the shortened clip of us that went viral, making him far less recognizable than me. So either she hasn’t seen the clip, and has no idea that he’s the guy from the meme, or she still can’t recognize me with this idiotic disguise on.

I’m curious how long he waited before moving on from me, since it’s barely been a month. “How long have you and Rex—”

“We better get going,” Rex suddenly interjects, pushing Juju back toward their side of the rental. “You still need to get ready to go, right?”

“We’re heading out to watch our friends at Pipeline,” Juju calls over her shoulder. I have no idea what Pipeline is. “Maybe we’ll see you later tonight!”

“Unless . . . you mentioned something about possibly checking out later today?” A glimmer of hope pools in Rex’s eyes as he turns around. I hate him for it.

How did we get here?I want to ask.How did we go from laughing atTed Lassolate at night and love notes stuck on our bathroom mirror tothis?

Instead, I murder him with my eyes from under my seven-dollar sunglasses. I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. So I close it again, feeling fresh tears rushing behind my lids.

Dom answers for me.

“She’s going to figure it out,” he says stiffly to Rex, giving him the evil eye. Or at least I think it’s the evil eye, from way down here with my blurry tunnel vision. I’m probably a foot and a half shorter than him.

Dom turns back to me, flashing me a pained look. “Come on, I’m going to install these right now, if that works for you? Then we’ll talk about what you want to do with your time here.” He starts nudging me inside with the corner of one of those long boxes.

I swat at the box and start to say something about his stupid reservation rules again, but stop mid-sentence when I see Rex and Juju shut themselves inside their half of the townhouse. One hand pressed against the lowest part of her back before closing the door.

My back tingles at the memory of what that used to feel like. Rex’s hand against my spine, leading me wherever we were going together.

I snap out of it when Dom uses a box corner to push me all the way inside my half of the rental before sliding the door shut.

I immediately slump down onto the couch, feeling exhausted from the weight of it all.

“Let’s get you some privacy.” Dom sets his pile of boxes down on the floor.

Without a word, he grabs a tissue from the Kleenex box on the coffee table and hands it over to me. Then he settles on the floor to start ripping into the boxes.

Chapter 13

Dom tosses sheets of plastic aside. Then he roots through a giant soft-sided tool bag he must have dropped on the living room floor before joining us outside.

“That was kind of brutal,” he says through a faint smile. Then he pulls out a long window shade from one of the boxes, and starts to examine the instruction manual. “I can come back later if you want, but I’m guessing you’ll want these installed ASAP. The last thing you need is that asshat walking around where you can see him. And he can see you.”

He shoots me a side-eye. I respond by blowing my nose into a tissue and grabbing another from the box. Then I toss my bucket hat and ugly glasses onto the coffee table. No point in keeping them on now. I blow my nose more forcefully for good measure.

Dom does a double-take in my direction, then sets the blinds down, like he can’t focus on anything but my face.

“What, you’ve never seen a girl passionately blow her nose before?” I ask, giving him a weak smile. I can feel myself turning red, but it’s like the dam has burst. All the pent-up feelings I’ve kept buried over the last month are now spilling out — at the most unfortunate time.

I toss the second tissue onto the coffee table and lean back, crossing my arms at him.

He continues studying my face like he’s not sure what to say.

“What?” I ask. I wish he’d speak up, not just stare.

---