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CHAPTER EIGHT Classic one room one bed
I was mid-scroll on my phone, collapsed on the hotel bed like a person who had been traveling for twelve hours and emotionally repressing the entire way, when the knock came.
Not a scary knock — not the ghost kind. Just a hotel hallway knock. Still, it made me flinch like I'd been caught doing something illegal.
I cracked the door open, and Amanda was standing there, soft-spoken and holding her phone like it had personally offended her.
"Hey," she said with a slight wince. "So... I think they need us to move rooms."
I blinked. "What?"
She stepped inside, lowering her voice like the hallway could hear. "Apparently there was a plumbing issue in one of the rooms next to us. They're moving a bunch of guests off this floor. We're going up to the second."
"Oh," I said, taking in her expression. "Wait — all of us?"
Amanda nodded. "Colby's already packing."
Of course he was. I bet Colby packed like he knew TSA agents personally. Meanwhile, my stuff was already exploded across the floor like I'd been living here for a week instead of ninety minutes.
I sighed and started tossing things back into my bag in the way that said I had no organizational skills or emotional stability.
By the time I got up to the second floor, everything was just slightly worse. The hallway lights flickered. The carpet looked older. The wallpaper had a scratch in it that very much felt like it could be claw marks.
And then the lady at the front desk handed me my new room key and smiled like she hadn't just thrown me into chaos.
"One room for Ivy and Sam," she said brightly, tapping her keyboard.
I froze. "Wait—sorry. Just one?"
She blinked. "That's what we have available. Everything else is full. Wedding party."
Of course.
The wedding party.
Ruining lives one bouquet toss at a time.
I turned toward Amanda and Colby at the elevator. She raised a hand with a small, apologetic wave. "We're in 213. You guys are in 215."
I looked at Sam, who had just walked over from grabbing something out of his backpack. He raised an eyebrow like he was reading my entire internal crisis in real time.
"What's up?"
I held out the keycard. "They gave us one room. For... both of us."
He blinked, tilted his head. "Oh. Weird."
Weird was an understatement. Weird was me trying not to make direct eye contact with him as we rode the elevator up, alone.
"You okay with that?" he asked eventually, after about eight seconds of silence too long to be casual.
