She changed into her pink-and-white-striped hemp pajamas, pulled her hair into a bun with a scrunchie, washed her face, lathered on her serum and moisturizer, and brushed her teeth. She put everything back into her toiletry bag to save room on the small counter.
“All yours,” she said. Then she sat on her bed, cross-legged, pulling her novel out of her bag.
He entered the bedroom, and she noticed he’d changed into men’s joggers and a gray fitted T-shirt.
“Good book?” he asked.
“It’s okay. Everyone is reading it, so I thought I’d find out what the hype was,” she said, closing it to look at the cover. Her face reddened when she realized he’d seen the title:All Fours. “I mean, it’s fine. Not my typical read.”
“Noted,” he said. Then he closed the bathroom door behind him, and she heard him brushing his teeth. He was humming a Morgan Wallen song they’d heard on the radio just before arriving at the hotel. They’d sung along as Fletcher drove through downtown Milwaukee.
After just a few minutes, Fletcher opened the door to go back to his couch.
He stopped and leaned against the doorjamb.
“I like you without any makeup,” he said. “Dot Clark. All-American girl.”
“I was worried you were going to start calling me Dorothy.” She blushed, despite herself.
They looked at each other, the air charged with the possibilities provided by a hotel room in a new city, neither of them having an attachment now.
“So, I... I guess I’ll be in there.” He pointed to the TV room. “If you want me... I mean, if you need me, for anything.”
“I’ll keep it firmly in mind.” She tapped her temple with her forefinger.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just...” He ran his right hand over his hair and pointed to the couch.
“Yep... you just...”
A silence hung suspended. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment longer than normal. But neither made the next move.
“Right. Good night, Dot.”
“Good night, Fletcher.”
He gently closed the door behind him.
After the latch clicked, Dot got up from the bed and went to the door. She leaned her head against it, wondering what would happen if she turned the knob. On the other side, Fletcher rested his head against the door, too, hoping she would turn the handle and make the first move. Several moments passed.
Ultimately, Dot decided it was more responsible to go to bed. She tried to read but after going over the same paragraph five times, she decided to call it a night. She turned out the light and could hear Fletcher already snoring in the other room.
Chapter 32
Fletcher had been true to his word and slept without complaint on a couch way too short for his long frame. He cranked his neck to the left and right to loosen it after being cramped on the sofa.
“I’m sorry about that,” Dot said, pointing to his neck as they got ready to leave for the convention the next morning.
“Hey, it’s nothing. Easy,” he said. “A cup of coffee and twelve Advil, and I’ll be good to go.”
Dot was aware that they’d likely be seen leaving the hotel room together by someone going to the meeting. She braced herself for the questions and the judgment.
But to her surprise, no one was in the hallway. Still, she felt guilty about... something.
LATER THAT DAYanother room opened in the hotel, and Fletcher moved into that one for the second night.
The convention went smoothly, and the Democrats were feeling good about where they stood at that point in the cycle. Fundraising was near record-breaking, and For the Win got several shout-outs on panels and breakouts for its creativity and organizational skills. In addition to their content and plans, the state director specifically asked Dot and Fletcher to explain their new system to track voter interest. And then, trusting her instincts, Dot raised her hand and was called up to the microphone on the makeshift stage in the large ballroom.
“Hi, it’s me again, I promise this is the last you’ll see of me.” She tried a little self-deprecation and mustered her strong voice to make another pitch to the group.