Page 43 of Trip Me Up

17

SAM

New York.By the time we checked into the hotel after midnight, my nerves buzzed like the server room back at the university. But the rest of my body moved like I was in a tub of homemade slime, the kind Jackson and Andrew and I used to make from Elmer’s glue and Borax when Joelle was our nanny.

We’d spent the day at a fantasy convention down in Florida. Between keeping an eye out for camera phones, being hugged by strangers in spandex or faux fur, and having Niall spray my hands every few seconds with sanitizer gel while reminding me of the dangers of “con crud,” my firewall was down. I felt too open, too exposed.

As I pocketed the key card, I asked the hotel clerk, “Would you ask the bellman to send my suitcase up? I need to walk my dog.”

The trip from Florida had wrecked poor Bilbo Baggins. He blinked slowly up at me. But if he didn’t go out now, he’d wake up at some unreasonable hour of the morning even though we didn’t have to get up early for an event the next day.

“It’s almost 1 a.m. You can’t go out alone in New York City.” Niall must’ve overtaxed his voice at the convention. It was rough as gravel, and it made heat pool in my belly.

Yeah, the way he’d tried to take care of me at the convention had reminded me too much of Mother. But it had also been kind of adorable to listen to his dire warnings about bringing home too much swag. Then when he’d gotten up on stage and said brilliant things about books, I’d gotten a little warm, if you know what I mean, and it wasn’t because of the Florida heat. Too bad I was too tired to do anything about it. I’d walk Bilbo Baggins and then fall face-first into clean, white sheets.

“Of course I can. I’ve got a guard dog right here. You’ll protect me, right, Bilbo Baggins?”

He curled up on the hotel carpet.

Raising his eyebrows, Niall crossed his arms. “That dog is more cat than Cujo.”

“He’s just saving up his energy for all the protecting he’ll be doing. Come on, Bilbo Baggins.” I scooped him up and grabbed a plastic bag from his carrier.

Once we were out on the rain-slicked sidewalk, I set him down. I stretched, inhaling the scent of ozone and taxicab exhaust. The passing storm had left heavy clouds racing west to east overhead, the undersides glowing with the reflected lights of Manhattan.

Bilbo Baggins sniffed a fire hydrant. I’d be sure to take him to Central Park tomorrow—oops, later today—so he could play with other dogs. He was an extrovert, unlike me.

He stilled, cocking his head to listen to the heavy footsteps that echoed off the stone buildings behind us. His skinny legs trembled.

I knew better than to show fear on the city streets. “Focus, Bilbo Baggins. Do your business so we can go to bed.” I tugged on his leash and paused at a sad-looking tree growing out of a small patch of dirt in the sidewalk. Bilbo Baggins sniffed it, trying to evaluate its worthiness for his squat. Then he raised his head, let out a single yip, and pressed his tiny body against my leg.

I glanced over my shoulder. A dark, hulking figure loitered a few yards away. I wished I’d let Marlee talk me into bringing a canister of pepper spray. “Let’s go, Bilbo Baggins.”

I dragged him to the next tree. The figure followed. Copper gleamed under a streetlight.

I sighed, the tension rolling off my shoulders. “Stop lurking over there,” I called. “You almost scared us.”

Niall approached, slowly. “You should be scared out here in the middle of the night.”

As soon as he spoke, Bilbo Baggins did a full-body wag, dancing until Niall bent to scratch him between the ears.

“There are people all around.” I waved at a threesome of women across the street, tottering in their high heels. “And he may look friendly now, but Bilbo Baggins is fierce when threatened.”

Niall snorted. “Is that why you brought him? For protection?” How did he still smell like cypress and eucalyptus after being hugged by all those sweaty cosplayers?

“Ha-ha. I don’t need protection. I couldn’t leave him behind in a kennel. He belongs with me. He’s my best friend.”

“You mean like ‘man’s best friend?’”

“No.” I was too tired to chuckle and tell the lie. “I mean, he’s the one who’s been there for me through…everything.” I waved my hand in a feeble communication of the stresses of three years of graduate school, my frustrations with CASE, and dealing with Mother’s expectations. Bilbo Baggins never expected anything of me other than kibble and a place at my side. And his bulging brown eyes were full of love whether I’d made a brilliant A.I. discovery or utterly failed at everything I’d tried that day. I wished I’d had him in undergraduate when things blew up with Stephen.

Bilbo Baggins had done his business, and I bent to pick it up. Niall crouched and held out his fist. Bilbo Baggins trotted up to him, sniffed his hand, and licked his knuckle. As Niall scratched him behind the ears, Bilbo Baggins wagged his tail and closed his eyes.

Damn, I wanted some of that. But aside from the hand at my back at that first signing in Chicago, Niall hadn’t touched me on purpose. Not even a handshake. Weren’t Midwesterners supposed to be demonstrative? He’d hugged Qiana that first night, in Columbus.

But he didn’t want to touch me.

Exhaustion hit me like a crushing wave. I could’ve crawled onto the nearest set of steps and taken a nap right there. I tied off the bag and turned toward the hotel. “Let’s go.”

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