Page 65 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Apology accepted.” Riles smiles as if all is right in the world, but then scrubs her hands up and down her bare arms as she shivers.
I go to offer her my shirt, when she yawns.
“I think I might have an early night.”
Guilt twists my gut, and I pray to God I don’t snore again tonight like a hog freight train, or whatever it was she called me. “Yeah, no sweat. I won’t be too far behind you. I’ll give you some privacy to get settled first.”
“Thanks, Riley. I appreciate it.” Stepping backward, she lifts her hand in a subtle wave. “Goodnight.”
I wave back, but unlike when I did it to Brittany outside the elevator, this time feels perfectly normal. “Night.”
chapter eleven
RILES
My cell vibrates on the bedside table next to me, pulling me from a sleep I’m desperate to cling to, my eyelids sore and heavy, my limbs barely ambulatory.
I smack my fingers at the screen to shut it up, then roll onto my stomach and bury my face in my pillow, muffling my murderous scream as I pummel the mattress beside my ears.
Groaning, “Kill me now!” I lift my head and take a deep breath, then pluck the useless foam earplug out of my ear and toss it into the center of the room. Where the other one is, I have no idea—probably stuck to my armpit for all I know.
At some time in the early hours of the morning, between opening the balcony door, strangling the air in front of me as if it was Riley’s vibrating throat, and then climbing back into bed and eventually falling asleep again, it must’ve dislodged itself from my ear.
Earplugs will fix the problem, my ass!
The inconsiderate jerk snorts in an inconsiderate breath he doesn’t deserve to take, which tips me over the edge. So I shove up to my hands and knees, glare at him, and snatch up my pillow, ready to deplete him of oxygen.
Storming across the room to his bed, I wrench the pillow overmy head, but unlike the morning before, I don’t hesitate before slamming it onto his face… multiple times. “Wake the fuck up!”
He jolts and wrestles, defending himself in the same way he did the last time I pillow-attacked him. “What the— Jesus! Rile?—”
Growling, I toss the pillow at his blinking, stunned face.
He catches it and then drops it onto the bed beside him before scrubbing his palms over his eyes. “Shit! Did I snore again?”
“Yes!”
“Sorry. I’ll?—”
“Shut up. Just—” I massage my temples, trying to keep calm. “Shut. Up.”
He does as he’s told, his mouth opening, then closing, not one word being said.
I sigh, march to the closet, collect a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, and throw them over my pajamas.
“Where are you going?”
“Coffee,” I grouch. “Because if I don’t drink some in the next sixty seconds, Iwillkill you.”
Again, he doesn’t argue, which is a smart choice, because I’m a woman of my word. Okay, perhaps I’m not a murderer, but I’m definitely capable of inflicting permanent damage to his genitals.
By the time I return from the café, fully caffeinated and a little less homicidal, Riley is nowhere to be found, so I change into my bathing suit and prepare to take my laptop poolside to get some work done, when he comes through the door, a gift-shop bag in hand.
“Before you say anything,” he says. “These are for you. I don’t know if you have any, but these ones are noise-cancelling.”
I narrow my eyes at him and take the bag from his outstretched hand. “What are they?”
“AirPods.”
