Page 118 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

I feel no remorse forhim, but Laine’s terrified squeak inside the room burns a hole in my gut. My phone vibrates in my pocket within seconds. I dig it out, but I don’t answer until Skeeter ducks into his office, closes the door, and flips theopensign toclosed.

I draw in a long breath, hold it for several long beats, then let it out and bring my cell to my ear. “Hello?”

“Ang?” I close my eyes at the tremor in her voice. “Are you coming back soon?”

“Yup, I’m here now. I dropped my food. Be in in a sec.”

“Oh… That was you making noise outside our room?”

“Just me. I was taking my shoes off and dropped my food.” I kick my shoes off, so my story remains somewhat legitimate. “Get the door for me? It’s only me out here, I promise.”

“No one else?”

“Nope, not a soul. Just mosquitoes biting my ears, and your sister doing the nasty in her room.”

I’m hoping for a snicker, even if it’s scared and watery, but all I get is the door opening an inch.

“Hey.” I smile and pretend I can’t see the tears in her eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” Shuffling her feet, she clears her throat and barely manages to hold my eyes. “I have a tendency to jump to conclusions. You only left a little bit ago, so I figured you’d be awhile. Then I heard something and figured it might be the creep. Ya know… Skeeter.”

Fucking Skeeter.

“Nope, just me. I was fast, because I’m starving.” I kick my shoes ahead and balance my things. “Take my bag?” I pass it over and force her to focus on something other than the darkness and things that go boo in the night. “I got you ice-cream. You want some?”

She peeks into the bag, because she’s curious and has never been able to stop herself. “What kind did you get?”

Stepping into the room, I turn and lock the door with a smile. “Ever heard the saying that beggars shouldn’t be choosers? Or, you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”

“Ever heard the sayingshut the hell up before I shove a shoe in your mouth?”

I love that she’s joking. I love that she still has that sass I fell in love with.

Fuck me.

Should I change my name to Skeeter now, or…

I set my wallet and cell on the rickety table beside the plastic knife I forgot I was still holding, and taking my styrofoam container of salmonella, I sit back where we left off earlier.

Laine’s fries remain half eaten, and the fried chicken is untouched. “Sit down. Eat your chicken.” When she doesn’t move, I lift my chin in the direction of the fridge. “Toss dessert in while we eat, then by the time we’re done, freaks next door might shut the hell up, then we can maybe pull up a movie and eat ice-cream until we pass out.”

“The TV doesn’t work.” She stands near the fridge with her pinky nail between her teeth. “I checked.”

“We can use my cell. It’s not cinema quality, but it’s better than a slap in the face, no?”

Finally, she gives me the watery snicker. “I can slap you if you want. If that’s what you’re aiming for, you don’t have to be so subtle.”

“Sit down, woman. Eat. You’re too skinny these days.”

Finally, she wanders toward the bed. I was so preoccupied with her sad eyes and fidgety hands when I got back, that I didn’t notice she’d gotten changed in the few minutes I was gone.

She was in a tank and cut-off denims before, so what she wears now is no more revealing; little sleep shorts covered with swimming mermaids, and a peach tank. She’s not showing any more skin than ten minutes ago, but this is still different. She’s dressed down and ready for bed.

And I have no fucking clue where I’m going to sleep.

Pretending I don’t notice the tension in the air around her, I open my dinner and work through it with just a plastic fork, not commenting when she eventually sits down beside me. I do nothing but continue to eat and watch her pick at her chicken.

I wish we could fast forward the awkward moments the way we can fast forward a movie. Get us through her shaking hands and straight to the bit where she picks the chicken leg up and eats it the way chicken legs were made to be eaten.

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