Page 41 of Secrets in Love
Even in the dim, orangey street-light-lit car, I could see her furious blush. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yes. You made that point already. I’m gonna start a counter. I think we could get you in theGuinnessBookofRecordsfor idiot hurling.”
“Idiot.”
“See, three times in seconds. That record is as sure a thing as you falling wildly in love with me is.”
Further inaudible mumbling—where I’m pretty sure I heard “idiot” several times—was followed by another chunk of muteness. For my part, it was due to the image of Evie calling me an idiot while being bound to her bed by her red lace underwear, killing off any other thoughts that dared enter my brain. As for Evie, who knew?
“We must be getting close to home by now?” I asked, attempting to kickstart the chin-wagging.
“You’re right. We are close, but we’re not going home.”
“We’re not?”
“Nope. We are going here.” The car pulled to the left and stopped in front of a multi-story red brick building with a substantial black awning hanging over the door and a top-hat-and-red-vest-wearing doorman standing guard over the double French doors.
“The Bowery?” It was a question as much as a statement. “Evie, I am shocked!” I laughed, elbowing her in the side. “I knew you had it in you.”
“It’s not for us, idiot.”
“Idiot again? That’s five already, Gidge. Keep it up, champ.” She rolled her eyes and pretended to smile while rushing from the car. My appalling man-packing meant that only the suitcase and my new carry-on needed to be taken from the trunk, and Evie had them out before I’d even shut my door. After dropping them onto the sidewalk with a thud, she began nervously shuffling her feet and pulling her cardigan sleeves down over her hands.
I had her on edge, and I stalked my prey. “Gidge, I know things are different over here, but this is a hotel, not a house.”
“Well done, Naty. This is a hotel. Would you like a smiley sticker?”
“Don’t be a smart ass.”
“Well, don’t be a dipshit.”
I stepped closer, enjoying the rush of adrenaline surging through me as she released a moany little gasp. “Why are we at a hotel, Evie?”
“Umm. Well, what do people usually do at a hotel, Nathaniel?”
“They fu—”
“Fucking sleep!” she interrupted. “They sleep, Nathaniel. I booked you a room. You, singular, will stay here until Friday night. That’s when I’ll bring you over to surprise Finn.”
Taking another step closer drew another audible moan. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re locking me up for three days? Are you gonna tie me to the bed, or will I have to wear your pink, fluffy cuffs?”
Blushing profusely, she crossed her arms over her chest and remained defiant as ever. Fuck me if I didn’t love it.
“No. There will be no tying up, and there are no pink fluffy things. But yes, you are being locked up.”
“Why?”
“Time.”
“Time?”
“Yes. Time.”
“What do you need time for?”
“Stuff.”
“Evie.”
