Page 71 of Fire and Icing

We thank Cathy. She leaves and the door closes behind her with a definitive click.

My hand, which is still resting on Dustin’s bicep, flies backward reflexively.

He chuckles.

Standing side-by-side in silence, we survey the room. To our left, down a short hallway, are two doors. Probably a closet and a bathroom. Our luggage is lined up neatly under the window. A desk and chair fill one corner of the room. A dresser lines that wall. Next to the bed, there’s a sitting area with a love seat, a chair and a little table.

In the middle of everything is the bed.

The one bed.

“Okay,” I say. “We have some talking to do. And some figuring. And some … lines. We need lines.”

The corner of Dustin’s mouth lifts.

“Do you find this amusing?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“I find you … Never mind,” he says. “What needs figuring and talking and lines?”

I extend my arm and point at the bed. “That.”

“The bed?”

“The only bed!” I exclaim and then realize I yelled. I lower my voice to just above a whisper and repeat, “The only bed.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Dustin offers as if it’s a forgone no-brainer.

“No. No. You’re massive. You can’t sleep on the floor. You’d be uncomfortable. I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll make a bed out of some of the spare bedding. They have to have spare bedding,right? I’ll be fine. I sleep on floors. I mean, I’ve slept on them. I’ve got practice.”

“You’ve got practice sleeping on floors? Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“No story. I just … I’ll take the floor.”

“Exactly when was the last time you practiced sleeping on floors?” Dustin asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s not important.”

“What if we put a bunch of pillows between us?” he suggests. “With all those fancy decorative pillows and the two extra sleeping pillows, we could make a decent wall.”

“Down the middle of the bed?”

“Yes,” he says. “Right down the middle. We can both sleep on the bed, just with a barrier.”

“I guess that could work.” I sigh and plop down into the chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think they’d put us in the same room. At the least, I thought we’d have two beds.”

“It’s no big deal,” Dustin says. “We’ll manage.”

He walks down the short hallway to the bathroom and I stand still, having a stare-down with our bed. If Syd were here, we’d share a bed. She’s a friend. We can travel and sleep in a queen together. This is for sure a king. I can share a bed with a friend. With a pillow barrier. It will be fine. Dustin’s my friend. And there will be pillows—plenty of pillows.

I unpack my suitcase into the dresser drawers, then I stow it in the hall closet. Dustin comes out of the restroom while I’m settling in and places his suitcase on the luggage rack, not bothering to unpack anything. I pull out the itinerary for the week and look it over while Dustin runs his fingers through his hair in the mirror over the dresser.

“What’cha reading?” he asks.

“I’m just combing over the details of the week. They didn’t give us much. We won’t know the contest categories until themoment they tell us at the start of each round. But there are time slots blocked off for filming and times for other things.”

I expect him to ask for a rundown, but instead, he stares into the mirror and catches my eyes. “Predictable? Firecracker, you know I’m anything but predictable. Why would you choose that word? My brother Stevens is predictable. Greyson? Predictable. I’ve never been called predictable in my life.”

“I changed my answer,” I remind him. “And … Did you just call me Firecracker?”

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