Page 22 of Synced to Us

I glance up from the top of her head, taking stock of the rows of seats and all the passengers in them. “Uh-oh. Looks like we’re too late.”

Dee whirls. “Too late for what?”

“To get a seat.” I scrunch up one side of my face in pained understanding. “Looks like we’re riding upright, gorgeous.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Dee wrestles around me until she’s back in the entranceway.

She kicks off her heels, one hitting the closing door, and then the other. Finished with her mini-tantrum, she rests back against the middle pole, raises her eyes to the train’s roof, then closes them and sighs.

I walk up to her, ready to apologize.

Eyes remaining closed, she lifts up a finger to stop me. “Don’t.”

“Got it.”

I shut my mouth, then create a forcefield around us with her bags, giving Dee the space she needs to collect herself.

The train starts moving. Dee doesn’t open her eyes, her body swaying with the rocking motion.

After a few minutes of confirming Dee’s meditative state, I dare to grip the pole above her head, then quietly open my foil-wrapped bagel with my teeth and take a massive bite.

When crumbs fall onto the top of her head, I pretend like nothing happened and silently inch away.

8

Dee

“We’re here.”

At the sound of Wyn’s raspy voice, my eyes flutter open, and I drop my arms to my side.

While impossible to sleep standing up, I’ve mastered the ability to fall into enough of a resting state that I can block out surrounding sounds. Time sometimes gets away from me when I do it, and I blink, seeing the dark sky outside the windows. “How long was I out?”

“‘Bout an hour,” Wyn says as the train slows. “Here are your shoes.”

My stomach sinks at the sight of Wyn holding my beige Jimmy Choo’s like an offering to a demon.

“I apologize for my behavior,” I say as I take the shoes from him and slip them on one-handed, the other still hanging onto the pole.

“Nah, don’t do that. I gave you a doozie of an exit out of the city.”

He laughs, the sound traveling from his belly and out into the world. I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody as joyful and good-natured as this guy, and I’m not sure how to react to it.

“Well. I’m sorry, anyway. I’m usually more tactful.”

Wyn shrugs like it’s no business to him, then holds out my coat. “It’s chilly out. You may want to get back in this.”

I shrug into the coat, noting his hands lingering on my shoulders before he abruptly lifts them off. “Stains look good on you, gorgeous.” When I don’t respond immediately, he follows up with, “Too soon?”

I fight off a smile and try to forget how it felt to have the weight of his hands leveling out my shoulders. “I’m not above dirty clothing, at least when it’s dry.”

We share a look, like he’s waiting for me to expand on the topic. I don’t.

He’s the first to break eye contact. “Fair enough. Let’s go.”

I follow him out once the doors slide open. We’re a pair of only a few passengers to get out at this stop, and I glance at the station’s sign as we pass it.

“Thicketville, huh?” I muse.

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