Page 51 of The One I Need
“Sure,” I say, though I can’t hold in my laughter. Probably because he’s doing this ridiculous eyebrow wag. “I guess it will be fine.”
“It will be,” he says as he grabs the keys and we make our way to the elevator. “Now. Let’s go put our stuff down. I need to find a slot machine, and you, my dear, need a drink.”
Chapter17
Oliver
I knowIzzy is still in a huff about the bed situation, but I must say, this room is really nice.
The view is amazing. The bathroom, with its white and gold tile and walls, is probably the nicest one I’ve ever used. It even has a bathtub that might make me change my views on baths. And these pillows? I wonder how much we’d get charged if I took one home?
Today has been a chill day, which I didn’t mind. After our room check-in debacle, Izzy only had time to drop off her things and get quickly changed. She and Hazel had to meet with some potential clients and collaborators, so Knox and I took the opportunity to walk around and get the lay of the land. We checked out the pool and the pool bar, played a few hands of blackjack, and sat in the sports book for a bit. I even won fifty bucks on a horse race.
I look over at the clock to see that it’s nearly nine-thirty. Shit, I didn’t realize it was that late. Though now that I know that, it makes sense that my stomach has suddenly started growling.
Oliver: You still going strong?
Izzy: Almost done.
Oliver: Have you eaten?
Izzy: What do you think?
Oliver: Figured. I’ll order room service.
Izzy: Some sort of wrap. And maybe a salad. Or pizza. Or fries. Cheesecake?
Oliver: Haha. I’ll get a little bit of everything.
Izzy: I freaking love you.
I set down my phone and grab the menu from the bedside table. I order more food than either of us will probably eat before lying back in the bed and turning on a random baseball game. What I don’t do is overanalyze the phrase, “I freaking love you.”
That’s what old Oliver would do. He’d analyze it six ways from Sunday to see if there was any hidden meaning. New Oliver knows it’s a figure of speech and to not read into it.
“Look at me. Growing,” I say to myself as I get up off the bed and head to my suitcase. Just as I’m pulling out a T-shirt and pajama pants, I hear the sound of the door opening and Izzy slowly walking through.
“That was quick.” I put down the clothes and watch as Izzy slowly walks into the room.
“Nothing about this day was quick,” she says, falling back onto the bed in perfect snow angel form.
I walk over to the bed and sit down at her feet. “I thought you only had one meeting today?”
She looks up at me, and I don’t know how to describe her look right now, but the word annoyed is definitely somewhere in there. “We were. Then Hazel saw a friend from college, so we sat with them for a while. I didn’t mind that so much, because at least it was in one of the lounges and I could get a drink. But then as we were walking back, we passed a conference room and saw one of the keynote speakers that Hazel is friends with. What started as a quick chat turned into two hours of computer shit that I don’t understand. I’m tired. Hungry. My feet hurt. And I’ve been in Vegas for a day, and I haven’t bet one dollar on anything.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching over to grab one of her feet. I slowly take off her high heel and start working her arches with my thumbs.
“Oh, fuck me,” she moans.
Football stats and blue cheese. Football stats and blue cheese.
“I don’t know where you learned to do this, or who taught you, but I’m grateful.”
“Thanks,” I say, using a little more pressure, which apparently Izzy likes. Believe me, I remember her cues for the “I really like that” body movements. “I don’t know if anyone actually taught me, but never has an ex complained about it, so I just figured it was one of my hidden talents.”
“Can I ask you a serious question? And you can’t deflect.” Izzy leans up on her elbows, and I take the opportunity to switch feet.
“Must be serious if you’re putting in the deflection clause early.”
