Page 68 of Tilly in Technicolor
Ollie nods back then unlocks the door to the foyer.
A bored-looking guy is slouched in a plastic chair behind the table serving as the check-in desk, scrolling on his phone and not bothering to look up when the little bell above the door signals our presence. His crooked name tag readsLIAM.
After a moment, Oliver clears his throat. Liam glances up then back to his phone.
“Yeah?” Liam says, barely stifling a yawn.
“Hi. Yes. So sorry to bother you,” Oliver says, “but my er… uh… my… friend…”
Oliver trips over what to call me so thoroughly that even Liam notices and looks up, assessing us a bit closer. “Yes?” he drawls.
“She’s lost her room key and needs a replacement,” Oliver finishes, the words shooting out in rapid fire.
Liam looks at Oliver, then me, then my hands clutching my bright red clogs and my disheveled backpack, before finally landing on my feet.
“Do you have identification?” Liam asks.
Oliver and I exchange panicked glances.
“I… the room is under my sister’s name. Room twenty-seven.”
“Are you listed as a guest in the room?” Liam asks, yawning again.
“I don’t know. Can you like… check? Or something?” I say, waving at the ledger on his desk. “My name is Tilly. Tilly Twomley.”
Liam stares at me like I’ve made his day excruciatingly hard, then glances at the ledger. “That name isn’t listed,” he says.
“Um. Okay. I do have my ID if that helps,” I say, digging into my backpack. “We have the same last name.”
“No,” Liam says, attention back to his phone. “Unless the person whose name is on the room can show ID, I can’t help you. Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.
Oliver and I look at each other again, totally clueless about what to do.
“I’m a guest of Mona Twomley,” I say with fake assertiveness, pointing at the spot in the ledger where I see her name. “And I demand access to the room.”
“Right,” he says with a sneer. “Again, I still can’t give you a key without her here and your name not being listed. And I also, quite frankly, don’t believe you whatsoever.” Liam gives me an obvious sweep from tip to toe, lingering on my shoeless, horrifying feet.
Well.
I do feel a tiny bit less guilty about the whole shattering-the-window incident from earlier after this guy’s attitude. But what am I going to do? Sleep on the stoop? I’ve seen one too many abduction shows to envision that ending well for me.
“You can stay with me,” Ollie says, like he can hear my thoughts.
I look at him. “What? No. Okay. Are you sure?”
He gives me a puzzled look before offering a subtle smile. “Of course. Come along.”
He turns and heads up the stairs. I give Liam one last look, wishing him massive inconveniences on all future morning commutes, before following Ollie.
“I… er… shall I sleep on the floor?” Oliver says, as we both stare in shocked horror at the realization that his room has only one bed.
One. Bed.
“No!” I pretty much shout at him. Very subtle. “I mean,you shouldn’t do that. I’m the one that lost their room key. If anyone is banished to a dirty hotel carpet, it should be me.”
“You know I can’t let you do that,” he says after a moment, eyes still fixed on the mattress.
I shrug, swallowing past a dry throat. “I guess we could share?” I wave at the bed that has the presence of a third person in this room.
