Page 125 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

He pulls me closer while scooting toward me and we lay like that for several minutes. Maybe it’s an hour. I have no idea how much time has passed when my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since the layover in Denver.

“I’d offer to order room service, but it would end up on your bill,” Miles chuckles.

“Think they have good pizza in Florida?” My voice is so small, but being able to speak at all is a step.

“Probably not, butit’s worth a try.”

While we wait for the pizza–a local place Miles found online–he offers to help me get dressed, but I protest.

“Will you just let me take care of you?” He presses his lips together, but his eyes are soft. “I just want to be able to give you whatever it is you need. Even if all you want is for me to walk right back out that door.”

“I don’t want that,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to leave.”

I direct him to where I put my pajamas–t-shirts and a couple of pairs of shorts.

Crouching by the bed, Miles helps me swing my legs over the side and prepares one of the leg holes of the shorts. He slips it over my foot and then repeats the process with the other. He pulls them up and when the shorts are past my knees, he grabs one of my hands to help me stand. I take over from there, but then he has my t-shirt. He pulls it over my head, sliding it slowly down my body. When it’s in place, he gathers my hair and pulls it through. The whole process is bizarrely intimate, dressing me after an embarrassing panic attack. I can’t say I hate it, though. He lets me sit back down on the bed when we’re finished.

“Drink some water.” Miles nods at the bottle on the bedside table that Steven left for me.

The trembling in my hand hasn’t ceased, unlike my other symptoms, but it’s steady enough not to spill the water as I lift it to my lips. It’s refreshing. I probably haven’t hydrated enough today, especially given the air travel.

“Good girl.” He winks and the corner of his mouth lifts.

“That’s Brody’s line.” A breath of laughter escapes my nose. I’m starting to feel like myself again.

“There’s my girl.” Miles finds the remote on the coffee table in front of the sofa and rejoins me on the bed. “Let’s find something trashy to watch on TV, huh?”

“As long as it’s funny.”

“Comedy. Got it.” He half-salutes at me and turns on the TV. Immediately, the hotel menu pops up. “Well,that’snot funny,” he mutters, flipping the channel. “News. Never funny.” Flip. “More news. More news. Weather. Funny?” He pauses, studying the screen. “Nope.” He keeps going until I catch a glimpse of Brendan Fraser on the screen in his classic Rick O’Connell ensemble.

“Stop! Go back!”

Miles returns, knowing exactly what made me shout.

“The Mummy,” he muses. “Comedy, action, romance.” He moves his eyebrows suggestively and I giggle. “Good choice. Responsible for the bi awakening of a generation.”

We haven’t missed much. The main characters are on the riverboat, about to be attacked. That means my favorite exchange is coming up.

Miles glances at his phone.

“Hey, the pizza is almost here. You ok if I go down and get it?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Hey, O’Connell!”

31

Brody

I wonder if Caleb will leave another note while Sophie’s out of town. If he does, it would either indicate he wants to scare Natalie too or that he’s unaware Sophie isn’t here. The latter isn’t likely since he’s probably stalking her socials and I know she posts updates about her travels. I’m left wondering if he plans to terrorize Miss Weston or if he’ll hold off.

Sophie is unaware that he visits often–most days, in fact. Some days all he does is walk up the driveway between the two front buildings, stop and watch for a minute or two, and then walk away.

What goes through his mind when he just stands there and watches?

Having given up the new mystery client, my day-to-day at work has returned to the mundane. The latest fiasco is a fifty-year-old woman desperate to see her father’s medical records and to know if she’s still in the will–if she was ever in the will in the first place. All she cares about is the current version, of course.

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