ANYTHING BUT ENEMIES

17. pick-me-up (literally)

I'M SITTING A SEAT behind Dane on the bus, slunk low in the plastic as I desperately assess my life choices.

It's a depressing process, my mind weighing the consequences of being a horrible friend only exacerbated when I decide to check my messages.

Ruby: 5 missed calls

Ruby: where are u??
r u ok, cleo?

Anaya: Girl, answer ur phone!

Reece: Naya says she'll buy you another drink if you come back here

Julia: is this because we bullied u about dane? :( we're sorryyyy

Marty: Ruby's trying to call the police plz respond soon

I'm gonna get an earful once I get back upstairs.

I quickly type out a response, saying I'm fine and back at the hotel just as the bus lets out a squeal, door peeling back to let us out.

Grabbing my tote bag after rubbing away an oncoming headache, I follow Dane off the steps and into the lobby, pausing when I see a group of about twenty people waiting outside the elevators.

He doesn't join the group like I expect him to, swerving sideways to take the stairs.

Ew.

Yet, I'm desperate to get up to my room quickly, and although I probably rank in some tier of most unathletic people in the country, for some reason I find myself trailing him anyway.

There are few places that feel like you're on the edge of existence, but hotel staircases are one of those places, right up there with airports in the early hours of the morning and parking lots at dusk.

In other words, the stairs are scary.

And while I'm usually a fan of that adjective, I can't say I like it when my life may be at stake. When my brain is conjuring up images of killers with knives and creepy men with woman-hating ideologies.

If Dane notices I'm following him, he doesn't show it, hand trailing the railing up the stairs, sound of footsteps measured and steady.

I stand at the foot of the case, heart thumping faster as it curves, and he veers out of my sight on his way to the second floor. My eyes flash behind me, mind racing to decide if I should just suck it up and keep moving or surrender to my urge to go back to the elevator.

His footfalls are growing quieter and quieter, and I make a split-second decision, dashing up the steps after him.

That's when disaster strikes.

My foot doesn't clear the last step of the first landing, force propelling me over top and into the concrete wall before I stumble back onto my ass, seeing stars.

"Fuck," It's muffled behind my hand, eyes watering as I massage my nose, feeling a little woozy when my fingers come back red with blood.

I'm too preoccupied with shock to look up at the rapid squeak of shoes on steps, eyes shutting tightly as the pain gets worse.

"Jesus, Cleodora. What did you—?"

My vision's blurry, unable to focus, but I recognize the voice with ease.

The shoes squeak again, and a face comes into my line of sight a couple inches from mine. "Head down, head down. Yeah, like that."

Dane's hands reach up to my face, pads of his thumbs quickly swiping at the tears under my eyes without a second thought, jaw tensed at the state of my nose.