Page 51 of Wreckage of My Life
“Don’t we need keys?” I finally force myself to ask.
“Yeah, I forgot about that,” Emily chimes in like it just dawned in her. I need to teach this girl some common sense.
“I got your keys right here,” Puck pulls two key cards out of the pocket of his trousers, and I rush to grab one.
“I thought we were going to share a room, Em,” I squeeze the key in my hand, anxious to be done with these people.
We step into the elevator, the doors closing behind us in a gentle whoosh. I feel like everything is happening in slow motion, and I can’t tell what’s setting my nerves off. Something clicks in my brain just as Puck reaches for my hand.
“Let me see the number on that.”
“Why?” My hand feels sweaty and shaky now. I don’t want to give him my key card back.
“To make sure you’re in the right room,” he explains in his happy-go-lucky tone.
Emily finally snaps out of this instant crush for Puck she’s developed. “What difference does that make? Aren’t all rooms the same?”
Puck pauses for a second but recovers quickly. “Boss’ orders, babe,” he winks at her, and I watch in fascination the blush taking over her face. She hands her key card over like he put a spell on her. Jesus.
“You’re in the right one,” Puck nods in approval, then hands it back to her. “Thanks, babe,” he winks again.
As I’m trying to process what’s happening right under my nose, a small piece of the puzzle slides easily in its slot. I turn to look at Blake.
“How did you know my name?”
He seems surprised by my question. “Isn’t that your name?”
“It is, but how didyouknow it?” I don’t let up.
“Ms. Stewart called you that,” he jerks his chin toward Emily.
“Not in front of you,” I throw it back at him. Something is off with these guys. What is it?
“Then it must’ve been in the paperwork Mr. Stewart sent,” he shrugs like its nothing.
It doesn’t make any sense. Even if Emily’s father sent them my name along with hers, he would’ve never put Becca on it. He’s always called me Rebecca, thought the shortening of my name was a little too low for his standards.
The doors to the elevators open on the third floor, and we step out in formation. I am chewing on my bottom lip so hard, I can almost taste blood.
“This is you,” Puck stops me in front of a door, slapping his hand against the hard wood couple of times.
I jump in surprise when he grabs the key card out of my clammy hand and sticks it in the lock slot. I stay frozen in front of it, scared to make a move. It all feels so ominous, it’s like I’m in a bad horror film.
“Go in,” Puck pushes me hard enough, propelling me into the room. I stumble in and squeak in distress when I hear my bag hitting the floor with a thud, and the door closes, leaving me alone in the quiet room.
“Took you long enough,” a deep voice calls from the side where the bed is.
My heart is about to jump out of my chest, it is beating that hard. I bring my eyes up and squeal when they clash with the ones of the man I haven’t been able to get out of my head for weeks.
“Dylan.”
22
Wrecker
GettingBecca inside this room has been quite the trip. I had to laugh out loud at the texts I kept on getting from Sully while they were driving here from the airport.
Sully: dude, this chick is suspicious AF
