Olly specifically told me not to snoop when he left.
Am I listening?
Nope.
The second I see him pass the window and head toward the food hall, I drop the iPad and slide off the bed. Olly isn’t a mattress or pillowcase kind of guy, so I go straight for the dresser drawers.
Biting my lip, I pull open the third drawer down. The top two are likely to be Jake’s since he took the top bunk.
Or that’s what Kayla and I have done anyway. Rebekah and Tia too.
The wood makes a scraping sound as I gently tug the drawer toward me. Wincing, I slow down. Why is it so loud? But I’m alone; no one will hear it. I dig one hand in and root around.
I’m a terrible person!
An iPad case, pack of gum, penknife, deodorant.
Come on, Olly, you must have something personal.
I root deeper and come in contact with a small leather square.
Bingo.
The black wallet is worn and curled at the edges like he’s had it a long time.
Okay, his license must be in here.
And that’s the exact moment the door creaks.
Olly’s rough voice asks, “What are you doing?”
I drop the wallet and close my eyes.
Shit.
Face up to it.
Standing, I turn to him. “O-Olly,” I say, my heart in my throat. “I was just…”
“Snooping,” he says. “Why?”
He leans against the doorframe, his expression blank. I don’t think he’s mad.
“I like you.” I sigh.
Not at all a lie. I do like him, and I want my doubts to just be in my head.
“I’m sorry, okay? I saw an opportunity to see your stuff. That was crappy of me. I don’t know why I did it.”
He steps into the room, his eyes sharp. “I don’t have anything to hide. No secret girlfriend’s pic in there.”
“That’s not why I was looking.” My cheeks flame. “Wouldn’t you be curious if we were in my room?”
“Is this what girls do to guys they like?”
“It’s what everyone does. When you like someone, you want to know everything. Sometimes you can tell more about a person by what they own than what they say.” I’m lying. I don’t enjoy snooping at all.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Esme. You don’t need to sneak around.”
I try to ignore the cold, sinking feeling in my stomach.
Well done, you’ve screwed this one up royally.
He takes another step and reaches out. I watch his hand curl around my wrist and unfold my arms.
“I just want to know you. The last guy I liked…it didn’t end well.”
“I’m not him.”
“No, you’re not. Can I have a do-over?”
He lets go of my wrist and pulls the drawer open all the way. “Go for it. Tell me what you learn.”
“I don’t want to,” I tell him, and I mean it.
“Sure you do. I have nothing to hide. Snoop all you want. I’ll even leave the room if you’d rather do it alone.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be that girl. I trust you.”
I’m an idiot for thinking he’s involved because of a slip of the tongue. He’s been open with me and he’s not even angry at me for going through his stuff. He wouldn’t tell me to look if he had something to hide.
“Were you looking for something in particular?” he asks.
When is the ground going to swallow me? “No. You must think I’m crazy.”
And I might be, you know. Since all of this started, the threats and stalking, I haven’t felt very sane. I’m paranoid and jumping from one dumb theory to the next. It doesn’t take much to make me suspicious, despite there being a serious lack of evidence with Rebekah and Olly.
“I don’t think you’re crazy. A little sneaky maybe,” he says.
“I didn’t mean to be.”
That sounds so lame. I didn’t mean to be sneaky? I freaking planned it!
“Ask me anything,” he says. “Whatever you want to know.”
“What song can you listen to over and over?”
His lips curl with a smile. “ ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ It’s timeless and brilliant.”
I touch my heart. “Hail Freddie. What’s your sick food?”
“My what?”
“The only thing you can stomach when you’re ill.”
“Oh. Dry toast, I guess.”
“Mine is plain pasta. What’s your favorite thing about your hometown?”
“That it’s called Springfield. I like The Simpsons.”
There’s a Springfield in Missouri. I know because my dad likes The Simpsons, too.
I nod. “My hometown has this little bistro called Dante’s, and they serve the best Philly cheesesteaks in the world.”
“How many calories are in those things?”
“About a whole week’s allowance, but it’s so worth it. Do you count calories?”
“Not religiously. Our old coach was big on living a healthy lifestyle. He liked to win.”
“Football, right?” I ask.
“I was the running back.”
“Did you want to be quarterback?”
“Never appealed. Besides, I was the fastest on the field. I could get that ball far.”
“Do you love it?”
“I do. Football is big at home.”
“Maybe I’ll watch you in the Super Bowl one day.”
“I’m not sure I’m that good.”
“I wish I was sporty. I used to run track for school, but now I just do it for fun.”
“I thought you had runner’s legs.” His eyes dip to my legs, then snap back up.
Smiling, I look away.
I don’t mention him checking me out as I pass him. “If you could have dinner with any actor, who would it be?”
“The questions keep coming, huh?” Olly teases. “Dead or alive?”
I shrug. “Either?”
“Robin Williams. He was brilliant.”
“Who is the person you can be one hundred percent yourself around? No hiding, no judgments? Mine is my nana.”
“My dad. We’re alike,” Olly replies.
“What was your favorite thing to do when you were younger?”
“Six Flags Fiesta. Yours?’ ”
“The zoo with my nana. We went a lot, even sponsored some of the animals. Do you think we’re in danger here?”
His attention drifts to his iPad. “I don’t know.”
I think we are, but I don’t say anything to him because he’s already clicking on Netflix.
So instead of pushing it, I watch The Circle with Olly until we have to go back to the food hall.
And I try to forget that I ever suspected him.