Of course it is. There’s only one bed.
‘Oh,’ I say, and promptly cringe on the inside at my inherent Englishness. ‘It’s just for a short while, right?’
‘I can take the floor,’ AJ mumbles.
I slide past him. The walls are light blue and there is a sludge-colored carpet that has seen better days. The bedding is a bad take on retro style, and the lopsided print on the wall has faded in patchy sunlight.
I crease my nose at the floor. ‘Not to sound rude, but if you sleep down there, you might catch something.’
AJ follows me inside. ‘It’s not the Four Seasons, Palmer. How you gonna cope?’
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
He lets out a heavy sigh. ‘This place is a dive.’
He closes the door behind us, then tosses his keys and jacket on the bed. ‘I might take a shower.’
He passes me and enters the bathroom. The door closes behind him and I hear it lock. Moments later, there is the sound of running water. Reaching into my bag, I pull out the sandwiches that Rita made us for the journey, perch myself on the edge of the double bed and peel open the plastic ziplock bag, then nibble on the contents with two hands. When I catch my reflection in the wall mirror, I look like a wide-eyed, scared bunny rabbit.
Minutes later, AJ emerges, barefoot and shirtless but with his jeans on, a thin white towel slung loosely around his neck. Steam billows out from the tiny room. That’s when I get to see the full array of tattoos on his chest, not that I can take any of them in, because I look away.
‘There’s a sandwich if you want one,’ I croak, because suddenly it’s difficult to get any words out.
‘Pass me one?’ is his response.
I turn, still averting my eyes as I pass him the bag. The mattress shifts below me as he launches his entire weight at it, the springs creaking as he stretches out, throwing his towel on the floor.
‘Mind if we put the TV on?’ he asks.
‘Fine,’ I manage as he reaches for the remote.
‘Great,’ he growls after a moment because the remote doesn’t seem to be working. He first bangs it in his fist, then leaves his half-finished sandwich on the bed as he gets to his feet, walking over to the TV. He checks the power cable, tries in vain to get it working.
Me, I’m just happy with the view of the muscles rippling across his back.
‘Guess that’s not working,’ he says with a grunt and returns to the bed.
For a moment, we eat the rest of our sandwiches in silence. My back is still facing him.
And all I can think is,tell him it was you.
Just tell him it was you who he kissed. He’s right here. It can’t be that hard.
‘So,’ I say, and I can’t stop my voice from hitching up a notch. ‘You and Amber Bradshaw… you were an item.’
He’s silent for a moment. ‘Not for long.’
I tell myself to turn my head and look at him, but my head is not complying. ‘Summer fling?’
‘It was like… three weeks. Barely. I mean, not even. It was… you know. Purely physical. Nothing serious.’
‘But Noah said she was your girlfriend.’
He makes a sound at the back of his throat, akin to a snort. ‘Sure, Noah saw it that way. I mean, she kept on telling everybody she was. Pestered me to introduce her to my mom.’
‘So, you… what? Broke it off?’
‘Told her I didn’t want anything serious. I don’t really do girlfriends.’