Page 14 of The Unfinished Line

I sent it to voicemail. I hadn’t talked to him in a couple of months. Of course, he would call right now. He always had impeccable timing. That’s why he was On-Again-Off-Again-Carter.

Dillon smiled, amused at my sheepishness.

“Need to take that?”

“No.” I answered too quickly. “I—he’s just—no.”

She stretched and rolled her shoulders as I shoved the phone back in my pocket, and then with the agility of a cat, she jumped off the table.

“Come on.” She offered me her hand, and this time when I took it, she didn’t let go. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

We strolled to the resort. It was the shortest and longest half-mile of my life. The streets were empty, the town quiet, but I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone saw us—two girls—hand-in-hand—wandering back from the beach. I didn’t know if the thought scared me, or thrilled me.

“What time on Wednesday do you fly home?” she asked. We were standing in front of my door. I wanted to invite her in. A drink. Coffee. Whatever. But it was thatwhateverthat paused me. I didn’t have the guts. I got the feeling she might decline, even if I had.

“Early morning.” My heart sank, realizing how quickly that was approaching. I should have scheduled the late-night flight.Or better yet, changed it to Thursday. I didn’thaveto be home until Friday.

If she was going to be here…

“You?”

“Not until Thursday.”

Between her black eye and close-lipped smile and the damp curtain of her hair hanging across her face, she was seriously attractive.

I leaned back against my door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Her smile grew broader. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

By the Gods of Decency, I managed a nonchalant shrug. “Well, maybe you can pencil me in.”

“Same time, same place?”

I nodded.

This time when she kissed me I didn’t think of anything else. Well, except changing my flight from Wednesday to Thursday.

“Goodnight, Kam-Kameryn.”

Scene 6

Economy was the only class available when Dillon changed her Maui flight from Key West to London. She hadn’t planned on flying home before the race in Florida, but her foul mood had made her long for the comfort of her flat and listening ear of her best friend. It was worth it, even if she would only be home for a week and it added eight thousand miles of travel.

At least she didn’t have a bike to worry about, if she decided to seek a silver lining.

But she wasn’t really amendable to a silver lining.

As her flight to Heathrow bounced along over the Atlantic Ocean, she folded herself deeper into the middle row seat and tried to tune out the teenagers on either side of her engaging in a ten-hour war, trying to snap each other with hairbands.

Not much longer and she’d be out of the land of luaus and mac salad—misty afternoon hikes and girls who were better actors than they let on.

She stared at the greasy blonde hair of the passenger in front of her. She wanted to sleep, but her thoughts kept returning to Hana.

Kam had canceled on her. Tuesday morning, Dillon returned from her swim to find a message waiting for her at the front desk. It was handwritten, a brief apology that an emergency had come up and she had to fly home, but thanked her for awonderful time, and left her with a mobile number at the bottom of the note.If you’re ever in LAwas jotted in the margin.

And just like that, she was gone.

Dillon didn’t know if the emergency had been real or if Kameryn had developed cold feet and decided to run home, but it didn’t really matter. She wasn’t upset with Kam—she was annoyed with herself for having taken it so hard. What had she expected to happen in the last twenty-four hours they were sharing the same sedate island—both of them thousands of miles from either of their lives? It wasn’t as if they’d see each other again. It had been a fun couple of nights, and the actress had simply flown home a day earlier than planned. That was that. It was sheer irrationality to find herself so disappointed.

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