Page 39 of Ice Ice Maybe
“That was a missed write-off,” Mr. Dalton grumbled, extinguishing that hope as quickly as it had appeared. “What about lunch today? Didn’t you eat?”
“Yes, and I paid for that with my money as well,” I admitted, feeling like I was confessing to a crime.
Mr. Dalton’s face darkened.
I could almost see the storm clouds gathering again.
“You’re disobeying direct orders,” he said.
I stood my ground. “Everything is going according to plan. Isn’t that what’s most important here?”
“It certainly is,” Mrs. Dalton said with a smile, giving us a much-needed lifeline and escape. “You two should get going. That hotel employee will be in front of your door any minute.”
“And I need to get out of this sheet!” Zena said. “Have fun at the game. We’ll be watching it on TV.”
She hugged her mother, but then her shoulders tensed as she passed Mr. Dalton. It wasn’t anger I sensed, but seemed more like a resigned acceptance of their dynamic. He stood stiffly, his hands firmly at his sides, as if the concept of a hug was as foreign to him as losing a business deal. I’d noticed the same behavior at Island Prime, when we’d said our goodbyes after dinner. Zena’s natural warmth and affectionate nature were obviously more positive traits she’d gotten from her mother.
As we made our way to the door, Mrs. Dalton gently grabbed my arm and squeezed it, catching me by surprise. Her eyes met mine, filled with warmth, and she mouthed a silentthank you. I gave her a small nod, acknowledging her gesture without fully understanding it, then followed Zena out the door.
Finally, back inside the comfort and privacy of our hotel room, I stopped in my tracks and gaped at Zena’s bed. The bottom sheet was half-untucked, clinging to the mattress for dear life. The pillows looked like they’d attempted a jailbreak, scattered across the floor in various states of escape, while the comforter had sought asylum over on my bed, bundled up like a refugee from the mattress wars.
“Um, what exactly happened in here?” I asked, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.
Zena glanced at the chaos, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. “I had some technical difficulties with the sheet extraction process.”
“You most certainly did,” I said.
She spun around in her makeshift outfit. “But I showed some pretty impressive improvisation skills with my attire, don’t you think?”
“I agree, and it was mighty bold of you to venture into the hallway like that.” My eyes trailed over her sheet-clad form. “How daring are you underneath?”
“That’s for me to know and for you to imagine,” Zena said with a flirty smile.
I groaned. “That’s all I’ve been doing for the last twenty minutes. You’re killing me.”
“Well, I almost had a heart attack when you stripped down to your underwear, so we’re even.” She laughed and playfully pushed me on the arm. “How fast can you be ready to leave the room?”
“Five minutes. Fully clothed. Why?” I replied, surprised by the question. “I thought we were going to watch the game here and order room service.”
Zena shook her head, her eyes dancing with excitement. “No way. We need to go out to a sports bar.”
“I’m game,” I said. “Actually, let me take a quick shower. The proximity of Mitch in his underwear makes me want to clean myself with a scouring pad.”
Zena smirked. “Go for it. I’ll shower after you. Make it snappy.”
I showered at warp speed, emerging with a towel around my waist. As I applied deodorant and cologne, a knock at the bathroom door startled me.
“Nolan? We’re cutting it close,” Zena called out from the other side of the door. “Are you almost done?”
“Almost!” I said.
“Put a rush on it!” she said. “I don’t want to miss the beginning of the game, and I still want to shower.”
“I can finish up out there, if you want,” I said as I snapped the top back on my cologne bottle and grabbed my clothes.
“Perfect!” she said. “Let’s switch places.”
Opening the bathroom door, we awkwardly shuffled past each other. Zena snuck a glance at my body, stopping at the towel around my waist. Her mouth curved up into a smile, but she didn’t say a word.
