I glare at her swinging hair. “I realize you’re not my biggest fan, but you don’t have to be a bitch about everything.”
She stops walking and turns around, big eyes filling with regret. “Sorry.” She shakes her head with a sigh. “I wasn’t trying to be a bitch to that guy in the lobby. I was just trying to get us our own rooms.”
It’s this side of Jenna—the part that wants to be softer—that reminds me why I try so hard to stay in her life.
“You weren’t a bitch to the front desk guy,” I say. “But saying that being with me would be a dumb move is kind of bitchy.”
Her eyes flash with a spark of something… sadness? Desire? I’m not sure, but it’s gone in an instant.
“It would be dumb.” She shrugs. “For us, or for anyone else our age to be engaged.”
“Says the girl who willingly wears a diamond on her ring finger.”
She points at her hand. “This isn’t a real diamond. It’s just mirrored glass. See?” She slides the top of the “diamond” to the side and it swings out like the lid on a very small container. But the diamond shell isn’t empty.
“What’s that?” I point to a small piece of brown material wedged inside the fake diamond.
She snaps the mirrored lid back into place and smirks. “The world’s smallest gris-gris bag.”
Without further explanation, she starts walking again, her long black hair swishing from side to side as she moves.
I follow after her. “And… what’s a gris-gris bag?”
She sighs. “A Voodoo love potion thingy.”
I bite back the smile that so desperately wants to burst through my face. “You have a Voodoo love potion on your ring finger?”
She spins back around, eyes flashing as she points at my chest. “It was my grandma’s idea, okay? Not mine. She’s just… like… really superstitious and when I moved away she got all weird about me finding love so she asked me to wear this ring and I couldn’t say no, because she’s super intense and thinks I’ll be cursed if I don’t.”
The whole time she’s talking, I nod. “Uh-huh. So tell me”—I cross my arms—“has this magical Voodoo ring brought you love since you put it on?”
She looks me up and down—a brief glance—but I catch it anyway and a bolt of triumph rushes through my veins.
“No,” she snaps. “Of course not.”
“And, uh…” I run a hand over my almost-smiling mouth. “When did you first start wearing this love potion ring?”
“When I moved to Arizona.”
“That exact day?”
“No. I first put it on…” Her eyes widen, just barely, and she purses her lips. “I don’t remember.”
I finally let my smile loose and break into laughter, knowing she must have first worn the ring sometime around meeting me.
Oh, this is rich.
“Liar,” I tease.
“Whatever.” She lifts her nose in the air like she’s so far above this conversation and all her very inconvenient truths.
But I let it go. Pushing the subject will only force her to lie to me. And besides, it’s enough to know that her love potion is in some way related to her introduction to me. It’s enough.
For now.
“This is me,” she says, stopping in front of a room with a white number eight drilled into the door. Sliding her key into the handle lock, it clicks and she pushes the door open.
I walk past her and stop at the next door over. When she frowns at my stopping I explain, “This is me,” and point to door number nine.
“Oh.” She pulls her suitcases inside her room. “Right. Well, see you in the morning.”
I nod and let myself inside my room. Our doors close behind us at the same time with a loud clunk. Looking around, the small room isn’t bad. It’s old and has a faint smell of smoke, but everything else about the place is new and fresh.
I toss my bag on the bed and move toward the small bathroom in the back of the room. After today’s long car ride, a hot shower would be nice. I catch a reflection of myself to the left and pause. Turning, I realize it’s not a reflection at all but Jenna walking across a small hallway from me, headed to the back of her own room.
She turns as well and we stare at each other through an open doorway that attaches the two rooms.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she says, crossing her arms.
“I guess this is what he meant by ‘sort of.’ ” I smile at the adjoining doorframe. “This probably used to be one big suite.”
Jenna steps forward and nudges the stopper away from the base of the door, then lets it fall closed between us. The door squeaks as it falls back, but instead of stopping at the doorjamb it swings into my room then back into Jenna’s.