Page 101 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
“Uh...”
“Tonight?” I asked, frowning. “We’ll be in Oklahoma City.”
“Yeah, so I’m hijacking the itinerary, after dinner, of course,” Dove said quickly, as if she’d seen my face pale. “We’re going to go out tonight.”
“Go out?” I repeated, alarm creeping into my voice. “What do you mean?”
“Well, my own TikTok FYP has gotten a little too local, but this bar keeps popping up, called Frankie’s. It’s a lesbian dive bar. I’m talking darts, drag, and some live music.” Dove’s eyes shone with delight. “And you can’t say no.”
“B-but,” I stammered, scrambling for an excuse, “I mean, I didn’t really pack going-out clothes.”
“It’s a dive bar,” Dove said simply, shrugging. “You can wear jeans and a T-shirt and pass.”
“I’m so excited,” Liv squeaked beside us, clapping her hands.
“I don’t drink,” I pointed out, as if that might save me.
“You don’t have to,” Dove said. “Neither do I, really. Come on, let’s go play some darts and listen to some music. Let’s have some fun outside of sightseeing and museums.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek and tried to ignore the sweat gathering on my palms as I mentally took stock of the clothes I’d brought with me and whether I had anything I deemed suitable.
This hadn’t been the plan.
The plan had been gas stations, historic stops, and safe motel beds—with zero emotional or romantic hazards—and so far, it was shaping up to be the complete opposite.
“‘Dancing Queen...’” Liv began singing, humming along to the ABBA tune with glee in her eyes. Then she looked down at her clothes with a pout. “Of course, I’m wearing the perfect outfit and no one will see it. God, being dead can be such a drag.”
It waswith a pit of dread in my stomach that I eyed the now-frowning clerk at the front desk of the budget motel I’d prebooked and paid for online. I knew something was clearly wrong with the booking, and that I was not about to like what she had to say.
“Confirm that number on the booking for me again, love?” the woman drawled, chewing a large wad of gum as she brushed her jet-black hair away from her face with nails that seemed far too long for someone who worked a keyboard.
“QRW987887,” I said, trying to keep my tone light and friendly, rather than let my growing panic seep in and come off as terse.
“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Here it is, then. Just the one queen bed.”
I frowned. “No? One queen? No, I booked two twins.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes, causing mine to widen slightly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dove glance at me, as if she were checking on my reaction.
“Right here, this is what it says. Keyed in by yours truly. One queen bed, one night, paid.”
“No, I didn’t do that,” I defended, ignoring the heat climbing up the back of my neck. “I booked two twins. I double-checked, even. I literally pressed the one that specifically said two twins.”
“Well, I can only go by what’s on the computer, love,” the woman said, turning her screen back toward herself. “Your choice is cancel—but no refunds—or stay in the room.”
“Hey, it’s cool,” Dove said beside me, her voice light. “We’ve shared a bed before. It’s not the end of the world. I promise I’ll stay on my side of the bed.”
I was both shocked at the flip in my stomach and annoyed as I looked back at the clerk.
“No other rooms available, love,” she added, the wad of gum bobbing in her half-gaping mouth. She slapped the room key on the counter. “Have apleasantstay.”
The way she said it made it sound like that was the last thing she wanted for me.
As we walked out of the main office and headed toward our room, Dove began humming a tune under her breath while Liv joined in—though humming her own, entirely different tune. Dove seemed relaxed and unbothered, while my brain was once again melting down.
I only had one outfit that could possibly pass as bar-appropriate (to my standards, at least), and I had to get ready for the evening within the same six-foot radius as the girl who was becoming a very real problem for me.
And I had to share a bed with her.
