Page 67 of Run Away With Me

A few minutes later, the door clicked open again and Brooke walked in, turning a roll of quarters over between her fingers.

‘You hungry?’ she asked.

‘Not yet. I will be soon. But before you say anything, I really,reallydon’t want to eat pizza for dinner.’

Brooke snorted and flopped onto the second bed. ‘We don’t have to get pizza.’

‘Or Chinese food, or sandwiches, or …’

‘What doyouwant to eat, Jessie?’ she asked emphatically.

‘Something green.’

‘God, you sound like Meredith.’

That made me laugh. ‘There are worse things to be.’

‘Than a hippie, pottery-making vegan?’

‘Definitely.’

Brooke closed her eyes, and I watched her for a few moments. Her hands were resting on her stomach and she breathed slowly, like she was purposefully trying to relax.

I looked at her differently now. I knew she’d noticed me looking, and she was either tolerating it because she wanted to stay friends, or she genuinely didn’t mind. A few times I’d caught her looking at me, but I’d convinced myself it didn’t mean anything.

I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable by telling her I liked her. I’d never told anyone I liked them, and I really wasn’t sure how another girl would react to that – especially a girl who had been happy to let people assume she was straight.

At school dances she’d never gone with a date, but that wasn’t unusual at St. Catherine’s. The administration were super strict about things like dating and PDAs, and even kissing in the hallways got people hauled in for detention. Most people went to dances in friend groups, except for senior prom, when everyone was eighteen. And we hadn’t gotten to senior prom yet.

There was no point in trying to test the waters while I was still hiding so much from her. I was terrible at lying,but I was doing pretty great at not thinking about the blood and death and pain I was running from, and I didn’t need an extensive romantic history to tell me that would be a turn-off for any potential romantic partner.

Not that I gave much of a fuck about future romantic partners. I cared about Brooke.

I wanted us to share a bed again. I wanted her to smile at me, and touch my arm, and, maybe, eventually, kiss me – even though that last one seemed like a far-fetched dream.

‘This place reminds me of the first motel we stayed in,’ she said suddenly, without opening her eyes. I startled, then reminded myself that she couldn’t hear my thoughts. ‘It’s nicer here, though. The people are nicer,’ she said.

‘We’re also, like, more than halfway across the country from home.’

‘Shit. You’re right.’

Brooke almost jumped out of her skin when her phone rang.

‘Are you gonna answer it?’ I asked Brooke, now fully alert.

‘It’s probably someone wanting Meredith.’

I shrugged. ‘I’ll get it if you want. I can tell them they have the wrong number.’

‘I’m closer,’ she said, sounding resigned, and picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Brooke?’ I could only just hear the voice.

‘Meredith?’

‘No, it’s Julianne.’

Shit.

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