Page 32 of Head Under Water

When I reach the hall outside our rooms, Will is standing at his door. He looks over his shoulder. His gaze lingers on my face for half a second before dropping to the grease-stained paper bag. “What’s for dinner?”

“Burger. Did you eat at the restaurant? I heard someone saying they’re pretty good.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I had the world’s best pizza.”

“What makes it the world’s best?” I stop in front of him.

“The sign out front, apparently,” he says, stepping closer to peer into my bag. His arm brushes mine, sending static across my skin.

“Get back.” I swat at him.

“Don’t worry.” He rubs my hair, and I jerk away. “I’d never eat your food. I learned my lesson during the Great Finger Biting of ’06.” He lifts his pointer finger so I can see the pale scar just below his knuckle. A delicate imprint of the curve of my tooth.

I didn’t even bite that hard, he just jerked away too fast. It was the perfect storm.

Still, I lift my chin with a flash of pride. Something in me likes knowing I’m permanently part of him.

I’d never admit that out loud.

“Good. Serves you right.”

He shakes his head, fighting a grin. “Are you going to bed now, Grandma? Or do you want to hang out?”

I swallow. How does one hang out with Will Kendricks? Why would one want to? I was looking forward to disappearing into my room, pigging out on this food, and watching Shark Tank.

“You want to hang out with me?” I ask him skeptically. “What, so you can dip my pigtails in ink?”

“We’re in neutral territory, Sullivan.” Both hands go up in surrender. “And fake friends, don’t you forget. Maybe we should practice.”

“Practice being friends?”

“You could use the practice.”

I eye him, already annoyed. But it’s just after six, and Will is the only person I know here. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, even if it’s the second worst thing.

“Fine. What did you have in mind?”

Will’s face flashes with shock, and it’s obvious he didn’t expect me to agree to this. “Um, right. Well, there’s an escape room down the street. Have you heard about those? I was thinking of trying it out.”

“Do we need a full group?”

“I think they’ll just put us with other people,” he says, because of course he’s done no research into this. Will just shows up. I need to know everything before I arrive.

“Okay, but I need to eat first.”

He gestures for me to go ahead, and I move toward my door, flashing the keycard at the sensor. When it blinks green, I turn the handle and step into my room.

Will follows so closely that when I stop short, his chest bumps my back. The door clicks shut behind us, reminding me we’re alone. On purpose.

I turn, and he’s right there. Close enough that I have to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

“Personal space,” I mutter.

“We’re practicing,” he says lightly. “Friends, remember?”

“Do friends rub chests and share air?”

His eyes fall to my collarbone, skating downward and lingering without embarrassment. “Best friends do.”