Page 30 of From Now On

Eve raises an eyebrow. “You would have bought an extra sandwich and fries and lemonade if you were driving alone?”

I roll my eyes. “You can pay me back for your dinner, if you want. But that’s it. And it can wait until we’re inside. Someone’s going to think we’re doing a drug deal. Or that I’m paying you to have sex with me.”

I’m not sure why that last sentence slips out. But, if I had to guess, I’d say that it has something to do with how having sexwith Eve crossed my mind several times while we were in my car together. It just did again, when she bit her bottom lip.

Eve pockets the cash. Scoffs. “Like anyone would thinkyouhad to pay for sex.”

Her voice has the sameduhtone to it as when she complained I was “smart too.” I think it was a compliment, and that implying I’m attractive enough to get laid without money exchanging hands is another one.

I smile as I open the trunk of my car. “Uh, thanks?”

She clears her throat. “I texted Harlow, letting her know about the traffic and that we decided to stop for the night.”

I nod as I grab my duffel. The zipper clinks against the jack I didn’t bother putting back into the compartment. I completely forgot about the flat tire.

This trip has been a complete clusterfuck, and I’m oddly at ease about it despite usually thriving on structure.

Eve reaches for the handle of her suitcase once I pull it out.

“I’ve got it,” I tell her.

She keeps reaching anyway. “You’ve done too much already.”

Too much? Buying her dinner and offering to carry her suitcase? Sounds like the bare minimum to me.

Eve’s fingers brush my knuckles as she grabs the handle insistently. Reluctantly, I let go, allowing her to lift the luggage. By the time I’ve closed the trunk and locked the car, she’s made it to the stairs that lead to the second level of the motel. Rooms one through ten are downstairs. Rooms eleven through twenty are upstairs, according to the crooked sign.

The lot’s quiet now, the motorcycles gone and the remaining spots filled with empty cars. Aside from the buzz of the lights, all I can hear is someone loudly bemoaning the 49ers’ latest loss at the gas station directly across the street.

The room is exactly what I’m expecting. Generic striped carpet, beige comforter, white walls decorated with a fewforgettable prints. Everything looks clean, at least. And there is a couch.

I set my duffel down on the round wooden table tucked in one corner.

Eve’s looking at the bed. Theonebed.

“I’ll take the couch,” I offer.

She glances at the sofa—which is a rusty-orange color with two flat pillows—then at me. Smiles. “No way you’d fit.”

My sex-deprived brain delves straight into the gutter.I’d make it fit.

Eve’s cheeks redden like other situations in which those words could be used occurred to her too. She clears her throat. “I’m fine sharing the bed.” She nods to the ajar door that leads into the attached bathroom. “You can use it first.”

“Okay.” I grab my bag of toiletries and head into the bathroom.

This is weird. I’ve never spent the night with a girl without it involving sex. I’ve never spent the entire night withanygirl, actually. Now that I’m no longer focused on driving or frustrated by traffic, I’m very aware of that fact.

Also, that this is Eve Driscoll, the girl I’ve wanted a second shot with for years.

I’m not going to make a move. She didn’t sign up to share a bed with me, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. But I’m going to be very aware that I could make a move—that we’re alone in a hotel room and both single—all night, and the possibilities bode poorly for getting much sleep.

Eve’s perched on the edge of the mattress when I exit the bathroom.

“It’s comfy,” she tells me, bouncing twice and making me smile. “Do you snore?”

“I don’t think so,” I answer. “Do you?”

“No. But I do roll around a lot, so I’ll build a pillow wall.”

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