Page 82 of Hide From Me

Moe grins as I take a step back into the bathroom, and he takes a step forward. If this jerk thinks he’s coming into the bathroom with me while I do my business, he’s sadly mistaken. I place my hand against his chest and give him a shove, but he just laughs and shrugs, crossing his arms and trapping my hand.

“We can find plenty of places that are spider-free,” he purrs.

“Then find one,” I huff, yanking my hand back and slamming the door shut.

“Oh, and baby?” he calls through the door just as I’m scrambling toward the toilet. “Make sure to check the bowl before you sit! Spiders like to hide in there!”

The scream I let out nearly shatters my eardrums as I jump from the seat and lean back against the wall, expecting one of the giant pests I’ve seen in so many YouTube videos to jump out at me.

I swear this fucking vacation will be the last one I ever take at this rate.

“You're still mad,” Moe sighs, placing his hand on my thigh while his eyes stay locked on the road.

Without looking at him, I jerk my legs toward the door, ignoring the way the seat belt digs into my ribs. Of course I’m still mad. What does he expect? He nearly made me piss myself, and ever since, I’ve been inspecting every surface, crack, and corner like a paranoid lunatic, waiting for a spider to launch itself at my face. I barely managed to get changed for this outing without imagining one crawling out of my shorts.

His fingers press more firmly into my thigh like he’s daring me to push him off, but I don’t. I just glare out the window.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing. “I was just joking. When we get back to the B&B, I’ll do a full sweep of the place. You can supervise, point out all the possible spider strongholds, and I’ll tear the whole damn place apart if it makes you feel better.”

No, absolutely not. With my luck, he’ll dive under the bed and yell just to scare me, and even worse, he’ll probably think it’s hilarious.

“Piss off,” I mutter, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Instead of poking again, he smooths his thumb along the skin just beneath the hem of my shorts, his nail catching slightly like he’s trying to distract me, or calm me down, or maybe both.

The car jerks into a turn, and my head snaps toward the windshield as he pulls into the sketchiest-looking parking lot I’ve seen in my life. A brick building sits in the middle of it all, lit by flickering neon signs. There are two front windows, but they’re pitch black, not even a sliver of light leaking through. The only thing that gives any clue to what we’re walking into is a single word plastered across the top:Hogs.

If this man brought me to a fucking strip club, I swear to God I’m calling my parents for a plane ticket home—and that says a lot, considering the last thing I ever asked them for was that evil horse.

“Where are we?”

Moe doesn’t answer; he just slides his hand off my thigh and hops out of the car, as if this is some grand reveal. My eyes narrow as he rounds the vehicle and opens my door like a smug bastard who hasn’t just ruined my week.

I don’t move. Not even as the scent of pizza hits me like a punch to the face. It smells like molten cheese and grease and garlic and all the things I’ve been craving since the plane landed. My nose twitches and my stomach growls.

“You’re a hangry little thing,” Moe teases, smug as hell. “We’re getting food before you go full feral and try to eat me instead.”

I roll my eyes and tilt my chin up with all the fake defiance I can muster, launching to push past him with purpose but the damn seat belt catches me mid-stride and yanks me back into the car.

“Or the seat belt,” he adds, his grin widening as I bare my teeth in a very real snarl. God, I want to bite him. And the worst part?He’d probably like it.

I unbuckle calmly, make my exit without a word, and march across the lot like a nylon strap didn’t just manhandle me. The second I swing the door open, I stop dead in my tracks.

“Holy shit…” I whisper.

The space is bathed in neon, glowing so bright it nearly blinds me. Electronic beeps fill the air, paired with muffled laughter, the whirring of machines, and the occasional shout. Pinball, air hockey, racing games, shooter games, old-school consoles—it’s a goddamn arcade.

“You’re kind of difficult to plan dates for,” Moe says beside me, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “It was either this or a haunted house, and that one didn’t serve food, so…”

The laugh bursts from me before I can stop it, head tilting back as it echoes through the space and shakes something loose inside my chest. I spin away from him, darting into the rows of games like a kid let loose in a candy store. My fingers twitch with the urge to snatch every abandoned coin on a console, and I hold off for maybe five seconds before slipping a shiny token from a racing simulator and booking it to the skee-ball lanes like I’ve just committed a felony.

I don’t get far though.

I slam into a wall of muscle and freeze.

“Easy now, sunshine,” he laughs, catching me by the elbow. I brace a hand on my stomach and lift the stolen coin between my fingers like a weapon.

“I’m suing. You better be prepared to drain your bank account.”

He leans in, face close, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re threatening the wrong person, baby. I could arrest you for theft—petty theft, sure—but I might be able to upgrade it to larceny if I try hard enough.”

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