-Mom, I’m at the resort. You know this. We’re snowed in but I’m fine! Why are you panicking?
-I’m an old woman, you can’t make me worry like this! Selfish girl!
-Mom, relax! I’m here, I’m safe and I’ll let you know when I’m able to go home, okay?
-I almost bought a plane ticket to Seattle!
-What good would that have done? The roads are blocked here, you’d just be stuck too!
No response. Maybe she’d relax enough to let it drop.
Seizing an opportunity of silence, I texted Maren.
-Give me some good news please.
It was still ridiculously early, so I knew she and Peter weren’t even awake yet. I sighed and climbed out of bed, pulling on my warmest pair of plaid pajama pants and slippers. With a yawn, I walked into the living area and was surprised to see Dev sitting on the couch, looking down at his phone.
“Do me a favor, would you?”
“What?” I asked, startled.
“Silence your damn phone. Who the hell is texting you this early anyway?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t ask.”
“Lovers’ quarrel?”
“Excuse me?”
Dev nodded toward the phone in my hand. “The texts.”
“Hardly.”
“Oh, I forgot, nobody’s good enough for Queen Lyra.”
“It’s way too early for me to handle you,” I said with a scoff and a yawn as I turned my back to him and walked into the kitchenette. The smell of freshly roasted coffee drifted toward me, and I let out a satisfied sigh.
“Coffee’s already brewing. It’ll be up soon,” Dev said from the couch.
“Thanks,” I said impassively, searching the cabinet for a mug. Acknowledging his olive branch of a pot of coffee, I grabbed one for him too. The last few drips of the coffee plopped into the pot.
“Creamer?” I asked.
Dev hopped up from his seat. “No, it’s fine, I got it.”
“I promise I can handle it,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
Dev approached, wearing a fluffy white bathrobe. “Where did you get that?”
“My bathroom.” He shrugged, extending his hand for the mug. “What, you don’t have one? Told ya you should’ve taken one of the big rooms. You snooze, you lose.”
“Whatever,” I said, pouring an individual container of hazelnut creamer into my coffee.
“Sugar?” Dev asked after plopping two cubes into his mug.
“Two, please.”
After he gingerly placed two cubes into my steaming cup, I watched to see if he would do something special with his morning beverage—something another human couldn’t possibly handle. Nope.
“Seriously? That’s it?”
“What?” he asked incredulously.
“Two sugar cubes? Pretty sure I could have dropped those in for ya.”
He shrugged but said nothing.
“Seriously, what’s your deal?”
“I just like to do it myself. Stop making it a thing.”
“It’s not a thing. I just don’t get it,” I said before blowing on the rim of my mug. Steam floated up to reach my nose, and I took a tentative sip, bracing myself for the heat. I was never a fan of steaming hot coffee. I usually preferred to have it cool down a bit before drinking, but my conversation with Dev was stressing me out already. I needed this coffee.
My phone pinged. It was Maren…and it was not good news.
“Ugh, roads are still closed and it’s still coming down hard. Two inches in the last hour. They’re not even going to attempt to clear them until it stops.”
Dev groaned. “And when will that be?”
“Who the hell knows,” I said, placing my phone in my pocket and taking another sip.
“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me.” Dev wiggled his eyebrows. “Whatever shall we do?”
“Ugh, you’re gross.”
He walked to the window and pulled back the heavy curtain. “Seriously, though, it’s coming down hard, I can barely see across the courtyard. We can’t ski. What else is there to do in this place?”
“Besides drinking?”
He raised one wicked eyebrow. “I’m down for a Bloody Mary.”
“Gross.”
“You need to work on that attitude, Lyra. Seriously.”
I placed a hand over my chest dramatically. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You’re a piece of work. C’mon, I’m trying to make the best of this. Don’t be a pill.”
I put my mug on the counter and raised both arms in surrender. “Fine, okay, I’m sorry.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a stack of brochures and pamphlets for the hotel and surrounding town. I sorted through them, knowing that most activities revolved around skiing or leaving the resort, both of which were not an option. I plopped them all back on the counter and shrugged.
“All right, you win. Let’s get a drink.”
“Or five.”
I glared at him.
“What? You’re not exactly making me want to work toward sobriety.”
I ignored his comment and took another sip of coffee. “The restaurant downstairs just opened. I bet they have better coffee than this.”
“Let’s do it.”
“How can you eat pancakes with a Bloody Mary?” I asked, my stomach churning as I watched him smother his pancakes with steaming maple syrup. He laughed and grabbed his fancy cocktail glass, taking a long, dramatic sip from his straw.
“Mmmmm.” He lifted his cloth napkin from his lap and dabbed the corners of his mouth.
“Lovely.” I rolled my eyes and took a small bite of crispy bacon. Dev nodded toward my hand.
“You should send that back.”
“Why?”
“They overcooked it.”
“I like it crispy.”
“Gross.” He set down his Bloody Mary and scooped up a large piece of pancake. “It needs to be soft, so you can actually taste the meat.”
“Enjoy your tomato juice-covered pancakes.”
“Whatever.”
“You know it’s funny—”
“What is?” he asked, placing both elbows on the table and leaning forward.
“We’re so different, you and me. I bet we have very little in common.”
“Clearly not our breakfast food choices.”
“Exactly,” I said with a nod.
“What else?”
“What are your hobbies?”
“What is this, a blind date?”
“Would you just go with it… It’s going to be a long four days. What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Big Lebowski,” he said with a smirk.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I asked.
“Have you seen it?”
“Once, I think… It was okay.”
“You just didn’t get it. When you get it, it’s brilliant.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“And what’s your favorite, or are you too snooty for movies, Miss Library?”
“Shut up.” I broke off a piece of bacon and threw it on his plate. He grabbed it and popped it in his mouth. “Of course I like movies. I love movies.”
“So…let me guess. You probably like something snooty like The English Patient… No, wait…Jane Austen, right? You’re obsessed with her.”
About a year ago, Dev hit on me pretty hard. He learned about my Jane Austen obsession and made all kinds of cracks about reading the books to get me to sleep with him. A huge argument broke out between us, and we’d been pseudo enemies ever since. So his mention of Jane brought back a little bit of tension between us.
“I love the books…not the movies.”
“Oh right,” he said, leaning back into the leather cushion of the booth. “Let me guess, they didn’t get any of them quite right, huh?”
I swallowed hard and looked away, knowing he was absolutely right. I hated all the Jane Austen movies I’d seen…except for Clueless. That one was perfection. And Bri
dget Jones’s Diary was tolerable, but only because of Colin Firth.
“Anyway,” I said, attempting to move past the Jane Austen tension that loomed above our table. “You’ll never guess my favorite, so I’ll just tell you.”
“Oh please do,” he said with a sarcastic chuckle.
“The Wizard of Oz.”
“For real?” He sneered a bit.
“What?”
“I guess I’m just surprised. I know it’s a classic and all, but don’t you think it’s kinda boring?”
“I’ve loved it since I was three.”
“Ugh, and the songs,” he groaned.
I pointed my fork at him. “Watch it. Those songs give me life.”
“All I hear is a whiny white girl who shouldn’t let her dog bite old ladies. You know that whole movie could’ve been avoided if she was just a better pet owner.”
My mouth dropped as I stared at him. “You’re unreal.”
“Hear me out, c’mon. If Toto hadn’t bit that witchy neighbor or whoever she was—”
“Mrs. Gulch.”
“Sure.” He nodded, lacing his hands together above his plate. “If he hadn’t bit her, Dorothy wouldn’t have run away, and so when the storm came, she’d be safe inside the storm cellar. The end.” He took a huge bite of soggy pancakes, looking all too proud of himself.
“For someone who hates the movie, you’ve obviously given this an awful lot of thought.”
His cheeks reddened a bit as he chewed. “I just tell it like it is.”
I laughed under my breath. “Sure you do.”
“Okay, so I’m learning what topics to avoid with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you get all defensive about Jane Austen, so that’s off the table. And apparently I can’t berate little Miss Dorothy or her dog. What is safe to discuss with you? Or do I just have to discover the landmines as I go?”
“If this was a date, I’d be faking an emergency right now,” I deadpanned.
“Aha, but you can’t, because you’re stuck with me.”
“Yeah, I think you mentioned that already.”
He took another bite of pancakes, looking smug.
“Let’s see if I can find your off-limit topics… I mean, the first one is obvious, right?” His smile disappeared. “Ooh, I struck a nerve already, and I didn’t even say her name.”
“I’m not talking about her.” His tone was cold, harsh. A small chill ran down my spine.
Playful Dev has left the building.
“Has anyone ever broken your heart? And I don’t mean crying-to-your-girlfriends-and-blasting-Taylor Swift’s-latest-break-up-song. I’m talking about someone ripping your freaking heart out, feeling like life-will-never-be-the-same-again kind of heartbreak. Has that ever happened?”
Sweat formed on the back of my neck, and my pulse raced. I regretted turning a somewhat tolerable breakfast into a shitshow. I knew it when I brought her up—I was trying to bug him, but I didn’t expect this level of disdain.
I really screwed up.
“Look, Dev, I’m sorry—”
“Answer the question,” he demanded, staring at me with bitter eyes. I hadn’t just struck a nerve. I’d struck every single one in his body.
A cold knot formed in my stomach as I forced myself to answer. “No.”
“Then you have no idea what you’re talking about.” He stood up and dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “See you back at the room.”
“Wait, you didn’t even finish your pancakes.”
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
He walked away, and I felt like such an ass. Of course I’d had my share of relationships, and of course things had bothered me, some had even stuck with me and affected future relationships. But wasn’t that normal? And since I’d been out of college, no one had even come close to taking control of my heart. I’d been rather guarded in that respect. I’d never had the kind of heartbreak Dev confronted me about. And part of me was starting to wonder if I was even capable of such a thing. I sat in the booth for quite a while, thinking about what he said and how I’d hurt him more than I’d ever want to. We rattled each other’s cages. That was what we did. But this time I’d clearly struck a nerve, and the worst part was I’d done it on purpose. After I finished my coffee, I requested a to-go box for Dev’s pancakes.
“Hey, Lyra, right?”
I turned to see the petite blond from the shuttle bus. “Sam, hi. Good morning.”
“This is crazy, right? The snow just keeps coming.”
I sighed, the harsh reality of my situation becoming all too clear. “Yeah, it’s so strange.”
“Leo can’t get in, obviously, so I’m a little stir-crazy.”
“Same, girl. Same.” I nodded in solidarity.
“Are you all by yourself?”
“Actually, I’m here with a friend… I mean, I guess he’s a friend of a friend. I don’t know, really. Our real friends couldn’t get in.”
You sound like a moron, Lyra.
“Must be a little awkward.”
“A little bit,” I said with a laugh.
You don’t know the half of it, Sam. He’s a piece of work, a total pain in the ass, and I’m dreading going back to that room.
“We don’t have much in common, unfortunately,” I said, knowing that if I unleashed all of my complaints about Dev, Sam would be running for the hills. I’d save it for Maren.
“Want to wander the hotel with me a bit? See what there is to do around here?”
“I’d love that.” I grabbed Dev’s pancake box. “I just need to drop this off first. Meet in the lobby in ten?”
“You got it.”
Chapter 5
Dev
I was pissed—so pissed that I stormed back to the room, slamming the door behind me and knocking the pile of brochures onto the floor before retreating into my room, slamming that door behind me as well.
Fucking Lyra.
Since the day I’d met her, she’d been nothing but a pain in my ass and a thorn in my side. I was bending over backward for her trying to be agreeable, trying to be nice. But it was never enough for her. She knew Trupti didn’t come with me to the resort; she knew it would be a sore spot when she brought it up. And I couldn’t understand why—for the first time maybe ever, we were actually having a decent conversation, and she had to go and ruin it.
Three more days of this? How am I going to survive?
My phone pinged—it was a text from Trupti, but I was in no mood to deal with her. I tossed my phone on the bed, laying down beside it, not even bothering to read the entire thing. I was too preoccupied, too angry, to focus my attention on her.
Quickly, I grabbed my earbuds and popped them into my phone, searching through my playlists for one that would calm me down. I settled on my Harry Nilsson playlist. Nilsson was my dad’s favorite. Midnight Cowboy was one of the first movies he saw when he moved to the States, and Nilsson’s song, “Everybody’s Talkin’” captivated him. Ever since I was a boy, he played Nilsson records. He always said Nilsson and I were kindred spirits—quirky yet classic, odd but polished and refined.
I clicked on my playlist, and Spotify asked if I wanted to add his version of “Over the Rainbow” to my list.
“Hell no,” I grumbled, deleting the option. “Fuck you, Spotify.”
Settling into “I Guess the Lord Must Be in New York City,” the first song on the playlist, I took a long and deep breath, trying to purge that woman from my brain. My stomach growled, and I was reminded of the pancakes I’d left behind, wishing I’d been smart enough to grab the damn plate and bring them back here. I was still hungry, but there was no way I was going back to that restaurant—at least not until Lyra came back to the room.
That would be my new plan—when she was here, I’d find somewhere else to be, even if it meant hanging out in the gift shop or wandering the damn halls. Anything not to be confined with her. Hell, I’d set up shop at the bar downstairs, bring my laptop d
own, and stay there until they forced me out.
My phone pinged again.
-You’re snowed in. How busy can you possibly be?
I rolled my eyes at Trupti’s latest text, took a deep breath, and replied. If I didn’t, I’d never hear the end of it.
-I thought you were working, why do you have so much time to text me?
-Stop it, Dev. I feel bad about our fight, let’s talk about it.
-Not in the mood. Sorry.
-Dev!
-What do you want from me, Trup?
-I don’t know.
-Exactly.
My phone’s definitely going to ring.
3…2….
I let it ring four times before finally answering. I didn’t even bother to say hello—I knew she’d start right in.
And she didn’t skip a beat. “So, what? You’re not going to talk to me the whole time you’re gone?”
“Hey,” I shrugged, looking up at the crisp white ceiling, “you chose not to come. If you were here, I’d be talking.”
“Don’t be like this.”
“Like what?”
“It’s like you don’t even care that we’re fighting.”
“Well, maybe I just don’t have the energy for it.”
“Nice.”
“Look, I’m stuck here with Lyra. It’s been less than twenty-four hours and she’s already pissing me off. The last thing I need is to fight with you too.”
“What happened?”
I sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it, especially not with you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I bit down on my lower lip, trying not to lose my shit on Trupti. The sound of the door of our suite opening caught my attention. For just a second I let myself be hopeful—thinking that maybe Peter or Scott had made it to the resort after all. After hearing it close again in less than a minute, I knew it was probably just Lyra.
At least she was gone again.
Trupti let out an exasperated groan. “Dev? Hello? I asked you a question.”
“Forget about it, okay? I’ll call you back later. I just need to chill.”
Her voice was soft. “Promise?”
Stuck With Me: A With Me in Seattle Universe Novel Page 4
