Page 93 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

Oh, no. These are the lyrics to this song we made up years ago, a dance we’d do, swaying. Like a call-and-response in a musical. I’ll lock the door / And throw away the key. / I’ll keep you safe / Stay close to me. / I’ll love you the most / No, that’s me. Just lock the door / And stay here with me.109

I stare into his eyes. They’re supposed to be the windows to the soul, but I’ve never understood what that means either. All I see is myself, and then Oliver’s lips are on mine and I can’t think anymore.

I don’t want to.

Bang!

I freeze, unsure of what’s happening because my brain is so muddled from the day and the proximity to Oliver, and were we just kissing?

“What was that?” I ask.

Oliver looks at the ceiling. “Sounds like someone dropped something up there.”

“Connor.”

His mouth turns down. “You know where his room is?”

“Only as a precaution.”

“Against ending up there?”

“What? No!” I take a step back. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

He wipes his hand over his face. “I don’t know what to think, El.”

“I don’t want anyone but you,” I say. “But you have to forgive me, Oliver. Can you?”

“I’m not sure.”

Ah, hell. Why did I have to go and ask that?

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“You’ll be all right in here?”

“I will.”

“I’ll be two doors down if you need anything.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He stares at me for a second more, then leaves, gone before I have time to call him back.

I lock the door after him and put a chair under the door handle for good measure. I take off my dress and put on a soft T-shirt and climb into the big, lonely bed.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep, but it turns out that almost dying on a daily basis is a good sedative.

Or maybe it’s the alcohol.110

CHAPTER 17Spreading like Rabbits

Capri

The morning breaks with Harper’s familiar knock at the door, but this time, I don’t need her to wake me up. I started awake an hour ago, my head throbbing and my mouth dry. I should’ve done something about both—Tylenol, a large glass of water—but instead, I stared at the ceiling, waiting for the events of yesterday to make sense.

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