Page 51 of Run Away With Me

He didn’t notice.

Neither did anyone else.

Nothing changed – the noise of dozens of buzzing conversations continued, the bartender kept working the bar, people kept drinking their drinks.

Nothing happened.

In my chest something was happening, though: my heart had worked its way up through my chest to lodge in my throat, and all my blood had redirected to rush in my ears. I forced myself to breathe slowly, calming my nerves and releasing the tension that had gathered in tight knots along my spine.

I flipped a page in my book, having read absolutely nothing.

I sipped my Coke, slurping the last drops from among the ice.

‘Another?’

I startled so hard I almost fell off the barstool.

‘Sorry,’ the bartender said, laughing awkwardly. ‘I didn’t realize you were so absorbed.’

‘No, it’s my fault.’ I forced myself to smile at him. ‘I should pay more attention.’

‘Do you want another?’ he repeated, gesturing to my empty glass.

‘Please.’

I picked at the fries to give me something to do with my hands. They were cold now, as I’d been too nervous to eat before. The man whose wallet I’d stolen moved away with his beer, not even glancing back at me. A few seconds later, his space filled with someone else.

I took three more wallets in the next hour and a half. Allof them from slimy older guys who leered at me, their eyes drinking in my body like they had permission to look. The second one was easier now I knew how it worked. He had slicked-back black hair, smelled like strong cologne and talked too loudly. The third was a man trying to hit on a woman, probably his colleague, who nodded politely while he mansplained at her. I noticed her eyes glazing over, her beautifully manicured nails tapping against the side of her wine glass. She wasn’t paying any attention to him.

I was.

He leaned toward her, trying to get her to flirt back, or show any kind of recognition of his self-assured greatness, and I had to wonder if she noticed when I lifted not just his card wallet but a money clip from his pocket, too.

If she did, she didn’t say anything. I never even made eye contact with her.

The fourth guy was a real asshole, shouting at the female bartender for getting his order wrong. She was politely apologetic as she remade his fancy bourbon cocktail, and I didn’t feel bad at all about sliding his wallet out of his jacket pocket while he was berating her.

Leaving with four wallets didn’t feel like chickening out. I signaled to the bartender and paid up, in cash from my own wallet. He might remember me in the morning – the girl who had readPride and Prejudiceand tipped decently on a few glasses of soda and French fries – but he would forget me by the weekend.

I stuffed my book and pens back into my backpack, on top of the wallets I didn’t dare look at, then zipped it uptightly and wandered slowly back to our room, wanting to keep up my easy-going disguise until I was safely away from wandering eyes.

Brooke wasn’t there when I walked in, and I wanted to throw up and scream and dance around the room all at the same time. I wanted to dig into the wallets and count the cash.

I didn’t do any of that.

I forced myself to have a shower, letting the hot water soothe my tense muscles. I’d always done a lot of thinking in the shower, since it was a safe space in a way almost nowhere else in my life was. It didn’t take long for little tendrils of guilt and shame to start creeping around me. Growing up, we’d never had much, and I was used to not asking for things – money included. Taking it from someone else, even if they could afford to lose it, didn’t sit completely right with me.

‘Jessie?’

‘I’ll be out in a second,’ I called back, relieved that Brooke had made it to the room safely.

I turned the water off, wrapped myself in a towel and changed into my pajamas before leaving the bathroom.

Brooke was at the mirror, unpicking her complicated hairstyle. ‘Well?’ she asked.

‘You go first,’ I said, wanting to surprise her with my haul.

I rubbed the towel over my hair, trying to wring out as much of the water as I could, and sat on the bed to braid it before we went to sleep. Not that I could go to sleep any time soon. I was too hyped up.

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