Page 53 of No Interest in Love

“Then hypothetically, next time, if I start falling off the mattress, am I allowed to cop a feel?”

“That was a total accident.”

“Mistook it for my leg? It happens all the time.”

“Didn’t realize you had chicken legs.”

“Ouch.” I grab at my chest like she’s torn my heart out, but my neck finally feels normal again, so I’m cool if she’s okay enough to insult me.

She presses up against the wall, hiding her butt and looking pointedly at my carry-on. I crouch down and unzip the main pocket, letting out an exaggerated breath as I take the Marvel pajama bottoms from their spot. Holding them like they are something sacred—because they are—I turn around and bestow them upon Shay…who whips them out of my hands.

“Thank you.” She sighs.

“You’re welcome, but don’t bundle them like that.” I put my hand on her wrist and step in close. “Be gentle. They are very delicate.”

She pushes her lips together as they twitch upward. “Would you like me to give you two a minute to say good-bye?”

I stare down at the pants. These are the pants no one sees me in. They’re the ones I drink booze and play video games in and the ones I wear when I feel like shit. They’re healing pants. So…hell, yeah, I’m attached to them. In fact, one of the one-nighters thought she could get away with wearing them the morning after. I took one look at her and said she had crossed the line. Never did see her after that.

Yet here I am, letting Shay wear the magical pajama pants, knowing full well she’ll end up ruining them in the next twenty-four hours. Keeping one hand on her wrist, I let the other pet the fabric good-bye while she stifles her laughter next to me.

“Hey, we all have our things,” I say, defending myself…and my pants.

“I didn’t say anything,” she says, carefully tucking the pants against her chest. My fingers tumble down from her wrist to her elbow, and her eyes follow them.

I probably shouldn’t be touching her. We’ve never had the touchy-feely type of friendship. It’s rare that we hug, let alone have long, meaningful physical exchanges. Is this meaningful? I’m still touching her. I can’t let go. Don’t know what’s come over me, but I like the feel of her skin, I like the way my favorite piece of clothing is pushed against her chest, and I’m trying to tell my hand to drop from her damn elbow, but my hand is not listening.

“I have to pee,” Shay suddenly blurts, slowly pulling from my grasp. Oh shit, I freaked her the hell out.

“Oh yeah, morning piss,” I say like a moron, then I turn around and run smack into the door. She doesn’t laugh at me, which I’m pretty sure is worse than if she did, and I sneak into the hallway before we have any more awkward exchanges.

3:04P.M.

Shay is wearing my Marvel pants. But she’s strapped on her torn jeans over them. The baggy fabric of my pants peeks out by her waist and through the rip by her butt, and she’s tucked the bottom of the legs into a pair of oversized socks I recognize as mine. She looks insane. Like the People of Walmart.

Adorable.

“What’s the plan?” I ask when we get to the main platform at the station, trying not to laugh at her attempting to walk without tripping over fabric. Shayhmmsand brings her pinkie nail to her lips. Her head keeps turning over her shoulder at the security personnel—the ones who are guarding each train like it’s made of gold. It doesn’t look like we’ll be able to sneak another ride unless Shay has some brilliant plan, because I got nothing.

“I’m open to ideas,” she says, then laughs when I give her the blankest of stares. “I can still call my agency.” She points to the ticket counter, where a Melissa McCarthy look-alike is sitting on the phone.

“We’re not doing that.”

“That’s all I’ve got. So unless you decide to offer up more than a cross-eyed shrug, then that’s what we’re going to—”

“Let’s buy a ticket.”

“With what?”

“My card.” I dig into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. I have exactly three things in here. My maxed-out credit card, my license, and a cherry-flavored condom.

“You said you had no money.”

“I don’t.” I lightly grab her by the wrist, making sure she’s right by my side while we move the ten steps to the ticket kiosk. The place is so crowded I wouldn’t be surprised if she was swallowed up somehow and taken away from me. “But if Landon got my message, he might’ve wired some money into my account.” I tap on the screen and select the next train out. “Worth a shot, right?”

She sucks in a breath, making her back straighten so she’s maybe half an inch taller. She comes up to my shoulder now. “If this works, I’m not sure if I’ll be happy or feel like an idiot for not thinking to try it sooner.”

I nod, and she swipes the card, my gut dropping as the little loading wheel spins and spins on the screen. I’m not even sure if the train will get us closer to Alabama or not, but if it works, I’ll call it even on the ride I just took for free and then take a cab out to the nearest airpo—

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