"Pretty girls like you get lost in these woods all the time, Alexa."
On the night of Sebastián's annual Beginning of Summer Bash, amiable and adventurous Melody Tryniski went missing. What might have appeared as a juvenile escapade - a casual incide...
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THE SIGN BLINKS DOWN on me, barely red on my skin. Despite it being daytime, it's left on, a constant flickering that only surrounds a few letters.
Ruby Motel stands in front of us as Christopher parks the car. It's a decent-looking motel that's divided in two buildings: the main "office" with a clerk visible behind a wooden desk, and a building with a cluster of rooms, one beside the other. The wooden doors stand beside large, crystal windows with curtains drawn to hide what's happening inside. My eyes trail through the golden numbers, until they stumble upon a golden eight.
It became our golden eight, a place where we could be ourselves and reflect those dark selves with sex.
An hour ago, we passed a sign that read 'YOU'RE NOW LEAVING LEVITTOWN' in bold, white letters. It felt strange to leave the town behind, if only for a few hours, but it also felt liberating. We already visited the first of the two motels that are mentioned in Melody's letter, a crappy place that called itself 'The Golden Motel'. Room number eight was just a damp square of a place containing a single bed, some nightstands to match, and an old television with crappy cable.
There was no golden eight on its door --- which is ironic, to say the least --- no hideous painting of our town in front of the bed, and no trace of Melody's next letter. Needless to say, we came out empty-handed and a little more hopeless.
"Are we okay?" Christopher says, side-eyeing me with a nervous smile on his face. "It's just... you're not saying much, and I love to hear you speak."
He loves something about me.
"Of course," I whisper, but we both know that it's not entirely true.
"Ready?" he says, unbuckling my seat belt. His warm fingers brush against the exposed flesh of my hip, making me tremble.
"No," I mumble, trying to smile. "I hope something comes out of this."
"What are you trying to find, anyways?"
If you're smart, you won't say anything about these letters to him. To ANYONE. He's the worst possible ally and trust me when I say you'll be in real danger for the first time. He knows more than he lets on.
I shrug, averting my gaze. "Anything, really. She mentioned it in her letters, so it must be important. I mean, she said to go to Becky Rivers, and I found out⸺" I stop myself and clear my throat. "That room is a clue. I just know it."
Christopher nods, his smile faltering. We step out of the car and walk to the main office in silence, keeping our distance. The only sound between us is of our steps on the asphalt, a constant scratch that reminds us that our bodies rarely keep away from each other. It seems that we're always finding ways to touch the other's body, to find the other across any place. Why is it so weird now?
