Page 63 of No Interest in Love

It’s shabby. It’s probably only about forty bucks a night. There’s an ominous-looking souvenir shop off to the right and an equally ominous-looking night clerk at the desk listening to her iPod. Dust hangs from the postcard stand, and the light flickers above our heads.

It’s a murder motel.

Shay shifts her eyes up to mine. “I think we may get killed.”

I’d say something, but I’m taken aback by how attracted I am to her right now. And I thought that meatball sub was looking damn fine.

“You here to get a room or what?” the lady says, pulling a bud from her ear. Shay straightens her shoulders and marches into the souvenir shop. She pulls a T-shirt and a pair of shorts from the rack, then puts them on the check-in desk and waves me over.

“Do you have any?” she asks, and I lean against the counter, keeping myself positioned between the two of them. Just in case.

“We got plenty. You want a king-size or two queens?”

Shay looks at me, and I raise an eyebrow because is she considering a shared bed? I can’t seem to think straight, so I end up just mumbling, “Uh…” at her.

“I kind of need some…privacy,” she says.

“Okay. Two queens.”

“No.” She puts her hand on my arm and lets out a small laugh. I like her hand there. There’s a hard-core kick to my gut that I’m not expecting, and I end up staring at her like a complete buffoon.

“Um, like…privacy,” she reiterates. “Like two rooms.”

Oh.

I mean,of course. I could use privacy myself.

In fact, I’m relieved.

(I’m not.)

“Two rooms,” I tell the clerk. “Right next to each other if you can.”

Shay looks at me, but I don’t explain. There are too many chances for separation. At least…that’s what I’m telling myself.

I pay for the rooms while Shay babbles about paying me back when we get home. It’s my friend’s money, though, and my loan, so I don’t really mind if she keeps her cash.

Our rooms are on the second floor, with adjoining walls as requested. We get to the top of the steps and Shay walks past my room’s window to get to her door. For some reason I’m anxious, like it’s pulling at my clothes and the ends of my hair, and I catch her eye before she walks in.

“I think we should have a code or something,” I blurt.

“What do you mean?” Her hand has stilled on the door handle, and she bites at her pinkie nail briefly before catching herself and stuffing it into the clothes she bought.

“Like, tap on the wall three times to check in.” My hand finds the back of my neck and I rub and rub at this anxiety. “I just…I don’t wanna lose track of you.”

An adorable smile pushes at her lips, and she fights it, fights those lips, straining to keep them straight and not like I said something that made her look happy. And my head won’t stop running with these thoughts. Like I don’t want to be separated, even if it is just by a wall, and I don’t get it because I’m a grown-ass man. I can be alone.

“Okay,” she says, finally getting that smile under control. “Tap three times and I’ll tap back.”

“Same goes for you.”

She lets the smile slip as she pushes her door open. “Got it. Night, Jace.”

“Good night.”

I wait till her door is shut before stepping into my room. As soon as I’m locked in, I strip off these clothes I’ll never wear again, hoping to wash off the anxiety that’s still scratching under the surface of my skin. I’m already tempted to knock three times on the damn wall.

Shaking my head at my crazy self, I start the water, getting it to pretty damn hot, and jump in.

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