Page 88 of How to Hide in Plain Sight
There were hundreds. As soon as I saw them, my heart jolted, and I felt a tingle on the back of my neck, as if sweat would soon start to gather there.So much to do.So much that I needed to catch up on. I knew that there would be no urgent tasks; my boss promised to handle everything while I was away. Still, now that I could see all the emails piling up atop themselves, unread, I knew that I couldn’t just leave them.
I clicked the most recent one, which came from one of ourvendors. I read it through twice, then started to type. As soon as I was done, I hitsend.
Then I did it again.
And again.
I knew how my boss, Cheryl, would respond when she saw me answering.Why are you on your email? I told you to enjoy your time with your family!Still, I didn’t care. This moment, the simple act of sitting behind my computer and typing up responses, firing them off in quick succession…it felt unbelievably good. As if I were lifting a weight from my shoulders that I had tried to ignore all week long.
This was what I loved about work so much. It absorbed all of my attention. Took my mind off Manuel and the Worries and everything else I didn’t want to think about. I let the minutes fly past, not keeping track of how much time had passed since I left Sunny Sunday.
Not until the screen door swung open.
I jumped, looking up from my computer. The lights in the cabin were still off, which meant my shocked expression would have been lit up by my screen, like a spotlight.
In the doorway was an outline I instantly recognized. His broad shoulders and runner’s legs. His curly brown hair.
“Making a phone call, huh?” Manuel asked, voice flat.
“Um.” I drummed my fingers on the computer. “I just thought…well, since I was already down here, and my parents have Wi-Fi…”
Manuel didn’t respond. He stared at me through the darkness. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could imagine it: the disappointment, the resignation, perhaps even anger. Slowly, he started toward me. His footsteps creaked on the wooden floor. I shrunk back, waiting for him to lash out with his words.
But when he reached me, all he did was reach down and shut thelid of my laptop. Gently, he picked it up and placed it on the coffee table. Then he held out a hand.
“What are you—”
“Come on,” he said, “I’ll walk you back to your cabin.”
On the walk, Manuel didn’t say much, which meant I reverted to Nervous Eliot. The one who can’t handle silence. The one who chatters incessantly to fill the empty space. I did an entirely unnecessary summary of the day, of the things that happened, the fights my siblings got into—all of which he witnessed and didn’t need to hear again. But I couldn’t help it.
When we reached Little Lies, we came to a stop.
“And themoontonight,” I said, gesturing dramatically to the brilliant white orb hanging over the lake, casting a glow on the quiet lake. “Wow. Just wow. This reminds me of when we were kids and would sneak out to Sunny Sunday and—”
“Eliot.”
I hesitated. “Yes?”
Manuel stepped around to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the lake. “Ask me why I came to New York.”
“What?”
“Ask. Me. Why I came to New York.”
This was it. The conversation we’d been dancing around since we got here.
The moment I had both dreaded and desired above all others.
It had finally arrived.
I fisted my hand in the hem of my shorts. My heart picked up speed, pulse thudding erratically in my throat.I shouldn’t do this, I thought.I shouldn’t give in to the temptation, the desire to know what’s happening inside his head. I should stay strong—for his sake, if not mine.
But I couldn’t. I needed to know.
The question came out a whisper: “Why did you come to New York?”
He stepped forward, closing the gap until there were bare inches between us. He raised one hand. Grazed my temple with the backs of his fingers. He whispered, “Why do you think?”
