Page 55 of Sort of Seeing Someone

The final card is Justice. But the interesting thing here is I pulled the card upside down, which means when I refer to the guidebook, I’m not looking for the meaning of the card as-is, I’m looking for the reverse definition. In this case, my stomach drops a bit as I rework each word that I read and come up with terms and phrases such as:unfairness, getting ripped off, feeling oppressed.I try not to freak out too much as I remind myself that a card pulled in reverse simply means there’s more work to be done in that area. It’s not necessarily a bad omen, although this one sounds like a far cry away from a fairy-tale ending.

I pull up the notes app in my phone and record my tarot pulls, along with my overall takeaways, which is thatOlliemight be who Esther was eyeing for me all along. I add that he’s likely a little mysterious and a lot uptight, according to the card. Either way, I’m convinced now that he came into my life for a reason—and hopefully it ends up being a pleasant one. But I’d be lying if I said the inverted Justice card didn’t scare me.

Just then, a group of four walk in. That’s my cue to close out my notes and stuff my cards back into my purse as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.

I don’t need to get a breathalyzer out to know this gang is tipsy—they’re loud, they’re annoying, they smell like tequila, and according to one girl’s pink satin sash, they’re celebrating her thirtieth birthday.

Right behind them, Ollie arrives wearing a wool peacoat and an orange Carhartt beanie. He looks like one of the guys who was in charge of watching for icebergs in the movieTitanic.

“Howdy, partner,” he says to me in his best Texas accent. He needs to drop this whole Americana shtick. Besides, the Swedish accent…well? It’s sexy as hell—I must admit.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask in the most neutral, no-I-didn’t-just-do-a-tarot-reading-on-you-moments-before-you-arrived tone of voice.

“Good. Excited to get started. Are you ready for this?”

“Bring it on,” I say, faking confidence as I toss my hair up into a high ponytail with a blackscrunchie I had around my wrist.

“Nice nails,” he notices. I smile.

“Reservation for two,” Ollie says as he checks us in with the person behind the desk.

The dude working looks like the type of guy who has no less than seven cats at home and has invested more than anyone should into an ergonomic gaming chair. In sum, he’s exactly who I picture working at an escape room.

“Ah, yes. You’re the guy from TheBrockmeier party, right? My boss said you were coming in tonight.” The clerk tosses his moppy hair away from his forehead, revealing Mountain-Dew fueled bug eyes.“He won’t stop talking about some girl running a smudge stick station that night. Guess she was a super babe.”

Ollie looks over at me. I smile and shrug. At least someone here has a crush on me.

Ollie hangs up his jacket on a nearby coat hook, but keeps his beanie on—tiny pieces of blonde hair peek out from under his hat. He’s wearing black jeans, black leather boots, and an untucked long-sleeved simple gray shirt that looks deceptively expensive. He seems to have mastered an effortlessly casual wardrobe, which is ironically not at all how I’d describe his personality.

He takes a seat next to me in the waiting area and I gently inhale his woodsy cologne as he rolls up the sleeves on his shirt. That’s when I see it.

“What the hell?You’rethe one who bought my bracelet from the gift shop?” I point to the string of green peridot beads around his wrist.

“It’s a little tight, but I got thirty percent off with my employee discount.”

“Why?”

“Because I work at the hotel.”

“No.Why did you buy the bracelet?You said it yourself, you don’t like stuff like that.”

“Green’s my favorite color,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

I tilt my head like a dog waiting for a treat. He knows that answer won’t cut it. A breath later, and he goes on to explain.

“There’s a golden rule in hotels when it comes to fixing things with a guest who may not have had the best experience:actions speak louder than words. I was being a jerk to you at the party. Buying your bracelet seemed like a good way to neutralize that.Besides, I might be a bracelet guy. What do you think? Am I bracelet guy?”

He holds up his wrist and shakes it back and forth.

I’m not surewhatkind of guy he is, other than a bit of a romantic, which is the last thing I pegged Olrik Zetterlind to be.

Another shock to me? There’s some ink on his arm. His sleeve still covers most of it, but something is definitely there. I’m not going to be that girl who asks to see his tattoo. And thanks to my Exexveei vision, I don’t have to be. If we truly do go on to date, then I know that I’ll see his body someday—all of it. I do my best not to mentally undress Ollie as I reckon with having the gift of insanely accurate, detailed foresight.

Before I need to fan myself off, Ollie asks a question that roots the both of us back to the here and now.

“What do you think our odds of escaping are?”

“Well, I’m a little nervous about our teammates.”

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