Page 112 of Never Ever Getting Back Together

And she holds me.

In a sea of grief, she forms a buoy. So I don’t have to swim for a second. Just for a second.

And it feels so good to rest.

To trust.

Just this once.

THIRTY-THREEMaya

There’s only one bed.

There’s only one bed, and I have to share it withfuckingJordy.

The fourth morning in the getaway sex suite I’m now trapped in for the next week, I don’t have the luxury of being woken up by a top-volume eighties bop. Instead, I wake to a growing sense of dread as my instincts realize something’s wrong.

I open my eyes a crack, find Jordy staring at me, and scramble backward with a shout.

“You look so innocent when you sleep.” He smiles.

“Fuck,Jordy,” I screech. “People don’t do that!”

“I wasn’t watching you for long,” he says. “Like, five minutes.”

“You were watching me sleep forfive minutes?”

He holds up his hands. “Maybe it wasn’t that long! Like… three or four?”

Ha. That settles it, I’m not going to survive the rest of the week. I do not have the willpower to put up with this level of bullshit. “What time is it?” I groan. The sunlight streaminginto the room, lighting up the already airy and bright white-and-cream palette, is giving off late-morning vibes.

“Eleven.”

Great. That means only an hour or so to kill before they bring up room service for our lunch. Lunch is fast becoming my favorite time of the day apart from dinner, because it occupies my mouth. And if my mouth is occupied, I don’t have to worry about Jordy leaning in to kiss me. Which he does an unbelievable amount of times per day for someone who’s batting at a 100 percent strikeout rate.

Speaking of which, he’s doing it again. Shuffling closer, bedroom eyes and coquettish smile equipped. He hasn’t even brushed his teeth yet, and he thinks this will win me over? Good grief.

I give him a tight smile in return, and lean back at the same rate he leans in, until he ducks his head and sniffle-laughs. “Good morning to you, too.” He smirks. I’m pretty sure he’s enjoying it, actually. The challenge. He thinks it’s great fun.

That, or he doesn’t want to let me know he’s confused as shit as to why I’m suddenly not keen on the physical side of things. But I kind of think it’s the former.

I rub my finger across his cheek—one of many token gestures I give to keep him from demanding we call this whole thing off—and roll out of bed. “I’m just gonna get dressed and see Isaac real quick,” I say, grabbing the outfit I laid out last night and dashing toward the bathroom. The one place in our tiny little suite I get any privacy.

“Again?” Jordy asks, letting his head fall back into the pillow. “Should I be worried?”

“About Isaac?” I call, tugging my shirt over my head in the bathroom. “He has a boyfriend.”

“Oh. Wait, he’s gay?”

“Jordy, we worked with these people forseven weeks.Do you not listen to a word they say?”

“Hey! I listened whenever they said important stuff.”

“You mean stuff about you?”

“Exactly.”

I yank on my jeans and do a jumping dance to get them on. “It’s just… girl stuff, okay?”

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