Page 181 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“I know.”
Wanting to shake some sense into her for her own good, I begrudgingly let it go instead. It’s not my place to do so, and I’d rather enjoy our time here than make it about her pesky employer.
We complete a full circle of the stones, and at first, things are good, until Riles pauses less frequently to read the plaques, her excitement and interest appearing to have vanished. It pisses me off; she wanted to come here and see this, and now she’s preoccupied.
“Are you done here?” she asks, stopping to take a drink from her water bottle before offering it to me.
I am done, but I’m more concerned about whether she’s truly done or not.
Taking a swig, I glance at my watch. “Yeah. But the tour bus doesn’t leave for another hour.”
She rests her hands on her hips and huffs. “I know.”
“So we can stay here a bit long?—”
“No. Let’s catch the shuttle bus back to the visitor center. By the time we’ve had a quick look around, the bus will be ready to leave.” She shoves her bottle back into her bag and marches for the parking lot.
I clench my fist and follow behind her, and after waiting fifteen minutes in line to board the shuttle, Riles constantly scrolling her cell, we arrive back at the visitor center, the air-conditioned building tempering my heated blood.
“Do you want to check out the exhibit?” I ask.
She takes a seat on an egg chair, staring intently at her cell when it rings. “Peanut butter.”
Her stupid saying makes me smile until she fumbles with the cell and quickly shoves it to her ear.
“Georgia! Hi, how are y—” She winces, her cheeks blooming red, her brow furrowing. “Yes, I know, but—” Riles holds up one finger to me, indicating she won’t be long before she shoots to her feet, covers her free ear with her other hand, and turns her back on me, pacing by the window.
I stay within earshot, listening as she tries to get a word in but is cut off every time until she’s just answering with, “Yes. I understand. Yes.”
Anger crawls the surface of my skin. We only have thirty minutes before we leave, and at the rate Riles is going, she’ll miss out on the rest of the tour.
Fuming, I stride up to her, snatch her phone, reject the call, and hand it back.
“Riley! What—” Her eyes widen as she stares at the screen. “No! No, no, no! You just hung up on her.”
“I did.”
She grips her hair. “Why?”
“Because she’s taken up too much of your time already.”
“You can’t just do that,” she hisses, her fists clenched by her side, knuckles white. “You have no right.”
I reach for her hand. “Riles?—”
“Don’t.” She recoils. “I need to call her back. Now!”
“You don’t need to call her back. You’re on vacation!”
“This is none of your business!”
“I’m here, aren’t I? And you’re here with me. So yeah, it is my business.”
Her fingertips of one hand massage her temple as her other thumb manically taps and moves about the screen of her phone. “Just… Just go outside to the exhibit without me. I’ll catch up when I’m done.”
“Butyouwanted to see the exhibit, and you won’t have enough time if you’re stuck talking to her.”
“Jesus, Riley!” she snaps. “It’s just stupid huts and rocks and crap. You said so yourself. I don’t care about them.”
