Page 49 of Against the Clock

“Good job, lady,” another says, holding her hand up for a high-five.

Bewildered, I meet her halfway, because who the hell leaves someone hanging for a high-five?

“Good job?” I repeat.

“Hell yeah, good job! You must have a magic beaver. He hasn’t played that well in years.”

All the women around her start laughing, one doubling over as she races into an open stall.

“What?” I ask, my eyes wide.

“Your cho-cha. Your pussy. The poonanny. The pink taco. You must have cast some kind of spell on him.” She wriggles her fingers at me. “Good work.”

Oh. My. God.

Cameron pulls me by the elbow, towing me from the restroom and the Hot Dams, who are snapping photos of me and the coconut-bra-wearing beaver like their lives depend on it.

“Keep it up with the magical beav,” one yells after me. “We need to win!”

“What the fuck,” Cameron says under her breath. “This is wild.”

“Magical beav,” I repeat, and then I bite my cheeks. It doesn’t stop the laughter from spilling out. “Magical beav? The pink taco?!”

“Listen, of all the things I thought I would be thankful for, a rando Hot Dam telling my bff she has a magical beav didn’t even rank on the list. But hey, laughing is better than crying, right?”

I nod, the sting of tears threatening again.

“Come on,” Cameron says softly, barely audible over all the celebrating fans. “I’ll drive your car home.”

I wake up to a soft knock, my eyes swollen. Blearily, I glance at my phone on my bedside table—there are five missed messages from Daniel, and it’s just after one.

My heart leaps.

He came. He did what he said he would, and he’s here now.

Despite all my misgivings, there’s no fighting the smile blooming across my face. My slippers slide onto my feet, and I pad across the floor of my room, half-awake. I peek through the peephole, and sure enough, there’s Daniel.

A sigh leaves my lips.

He’s so handsome, even at 1:20 in the morning. I unlock the door and his whole face lights up as I open it.

“Hi,” I say quietly. “You’re okay.”

“I got your voicemail.” He raises one eyebrow. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, please.” I push my hair out of my eyes, realizing I probably look like death warmed over.

His hand follows mine, tucking my hair firmly behind one ear. I swallow hard, coming more fully awake.

“We need to talk. Well, I need to talk. I need to talk to you.” My nose scrunches up.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Do you want to talk in the doorway, or…” He trails off, leaving the question hanging in the air, his hand still on my cheek. I lean into it, half-closing my eyes.

“Come with me,” I tell him, and I put my palm over his hand, tugging him behind me. “I wasn’t sure if you were really going to show up.” I pick at the hem of the scraggly old shirt I wore to bed, awake enough to be self-conscious.

“I can go if you don’t want me here, Kelsey Cole.” Daniel’s fingers give mine a little squeeze.

He’s so sweet and concerned that it makes me feel… even worse about what I have to tell him.

---