Page 35 of Under Locke & Key
Bryce waits outside the car—because of course—he couldn’t just sit inside and honk like a normal guy and make it easier for me to forget how devastatingly attractive he is as a person. Opening my door for me, he gives a smile that instantly has me flushing and I seriously need to get my shit together because I haven’t blushed over a guy since I was in middle school.
The closer we get to D.C. the tighter the knot in my stomach twists. It’s barely been two full months. I shouldn’t be this filled with trepidation over returning to a city that’s been my home since I was eighteen. Although it’s probably for that very reason—the over-familiarity, the feeling of failure so bad I had to leave—that has me crossing my arms across my abdomen as if I can physically restrain my feelings of unease.
“You okay?” Bryce asks, turning down the music that’s been thrumming in the background, too low for me to fully hear the lyrics but enough to keep the silence from being all-consuming.
He steals a glance my way and I grit my teeth through the stress of him doing that when the beltway is a fucking nightmare and even a second of distraction could result in him rear-ending one of the fools ahead of us that can’t drive to save their lives.
“Nervous, I guess.” It’s an understatement and I’m not sure how to put into words why I am.
It’s a mix of not being back since I left Lakin-Cole and all the strain that I was under—stress I hadn’t even noticed was slowly driving me to the brink until it was removed and I could breathe again. It’s the knowledge that my parents have no idea that I’ve moved and besides my brief text messages with my mom I haven’t bothered to reach out and tell them. It’s blowing Ángel off and telling him I’m busy when in reality I just don’t want to have to talk about my attraction to Bryce and have it be a real thing.
It’s the fact that my friends will be joining me tonight and I have no idea how they’ll react, whether they’ll judge me for this choice or find me lacking somehow. Mostly though I’m worried that Bryce will see more of me, learn more about my background, and realize that I’m white-knuckling my way through life—not nearly as confident or capable as I make myself out to be.
“There’s no need to be. Logan and Gabrielle are really nice. He’s known me since we were in school, so if anyone has reason to be nervous it’s me. He’s likely to embarrass me and I’m not sure whether his pointing out that I have no idea what I’m doing will make you want to quit while you’re ahead.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel even though his voice is even—betraying the nerves under the surface.
Again, I’m surprised at his willingness to be honest and vulnerable. When compared to Riley’s half-truths and careful sentences that hid her deception, it’s unnerving. When put up against the veneer at Lakin-Cole, dressed up in HR language to cover the misogyny and bias, it’s almost unbelievable.
I sputter out a laugh before I respond. “It’s not your friends I’m worried about. It’s mine. My best friend especially can be a bit . . . nosy? I’m bracing myself for them to either embarrass me with stories no boss should hear, or for one of them to get all up in your business asking too many questions—likely of a personal nature.”
We make eye contact again and the flip inside my stomach isn’t just from the fear of a fender bender.
Pulling into a parking garage close to the escape room in Glover Park, not too far from Georgetown and my old university, I can’t help but compare it with Dulaney.
Crossing the street causes a panic because D.C. drivers don’t give a damn about pedestrians or cyclists, and the cyclists don’t care about people crossing either. It doesn’t escape my notice that Bryce walks on the street side of the sidewalks, and his hand twitches, arm slightly outstretched behind me but careful not to touch—as if he wants to guide me or be able to push me out of the way of one of said crazy drivers should the need arise.
I’ve always prided myself on being independent—strong and capable, and ready to take on whatever and fuck anyone that gets in my way—but something about that gesture . . . I feel cherished instead of condescended.
By the time we make it to the escape room my cheeks are flushed from more than just the walk. Our friends are already waiting in the lobby and the game master plasters on a huge smile when we finally join the group. I want to greet Ángel, and Sebastian and Farren, but the pink-haired, pierced employee launches into her spiel and the group’s attention is focused forward again.
“Welcome, welcome! I was just explaining to the others that we don’t actually lock you all in the room and you’re welcome to use the bathroom whenever needed. Your room is all the way to the back of the hallway and to the right, the restroom is the door directly across from it. Now, are we ready to start?”
We give a series of nods and I take the time to peek at Logan and Gabrielle. He’s not quite as tall as Bryce, though that’s not an easy bar to reach. Curly brown hair that’s short on the sides and a bit swoopy on top. He’s round cheeked, as if he never quite lost his baby face, and his blue eyes sparkle when he looks over at his wife. Gabrielle is taller than me and Farren, with wild curls and a cheeky smile that contrasts stunningly with her dark skin. They steal a glance at us in the back and as soon as our eyes catch we’re all quick to look away.
I’ve missed most of the presentation but this is my fourth of these things in the last two weeks alone and I could probably scent the metallic tang of a padlock a mile away. We file into the room one by one and once we’re “locked in” we all look at each other with sheepish smiles. I wait a beat for Bryce but he’s swallowing hard and so I take the initiative.
“Hi, I’m Rachel.” I reach out my hand for Logan and Gabrielle who point at themselves and provide their names even though I already know.
“This is my boss, Bryce,” I say to my friends and then I turn to look up at the man that’s had my brain fuzzy all month, my gaze catching on him for just a moment too long to be casual before I turn back to my friends.
“And this is Ángel, Sebastian, and Farren.” Ángel starts them off with a little wave, a smirk thrown my way that I’m going to elbow him for later, and Farren and Sebastian follow suit as I list out their names. “I know Sebastian through our former jobs, Farren is his partner—the game designer I told you about—and Ángel is my best friend.”
Ángel is my worst-one-night-stand-turned-best-friend-and-wing-man and he smirks at my sappy title. We’ve never actually said it out loud, but it’s true. Nobody in this room knows me better. Hell, nobody knows me better, in general. Sometimes I wish it had been us, but it never would have worked.
He’s too snarky and flighty. I’m too outwardly buttoned up with fucked up interpersonal relationships from my parents through to my exes. Neither of us knows how to care for ourselves let alone someone else. He’s seen my ugly and time took care of the rest. Whatever budding attraction may have existed all those years ago faded into something easy and far healthier for the both of us.
“Nice to meet you all,” Bryce says beside me, his voice low and soft as if he’s shy about being in a room where the people he doesn’t know outnumber the ones he does.
I don’t dare count myself among the people he knows, not when everything is so tentative. Maybe in time we’ll be real friends. Maybe soon I’ll be able to set aside these conflicting feelings and I’ll see him and he’ll see the real me—not just the practiced one.
“Right, you two are the experts, so put us to work!” Logan says, breaking the awkward silence and we split off into our respective little groups without thinking about it.
I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that Bryce has opted toward one corner with his friends and left the other to me and mine.
“Right, so when you said he was hot that was a massive fucking understatement,” Ángel hisses loud enough for me, Sebastian and Farren to hear and she giggles when I poke Ángel in the ribs. Sebastian just watches us with an amused half-smile on his face and his arms crossed, the scene unfolding.
“Shut it. I am not discussing that right now. We have an objective to reach and the last thing I need is you sticking your nose into nothing.”
“I don’t see the ring, Rachel,” Ángel says it innocently, but the mischief behind his eyes has me rolling mine.
