Page 80 of Beauty and the Beach
“Figures,” I say with a snort when I see it. It’s just plain dark blue, no patterns, no designs, which ironically does say a lot about his personality. He’s not the kind of person who would take the time to set a specialized photo; he has too many other things to do, most of them more important than what his phone looks like.
The lock screen is plain dark blue…and yet I don’t look away; I even squint, bringing the phone closer.
Because my text is displayed there too—and accompanying it, the name he’s given me in his list of contacts.
I’m coming to your office for a bit.That’s what I said. But my message isn’t attributed toHolland, which is what he said was my name in his phone. Apparently I’m not even listed asAmsterdamor one of its many derivatives. No—at the top of the text is nothing more than the wordHer.
I frown and grab my phone from the pocket of my dress; then I punch his number in and presscall.
Sure enough, when his phone begins to buzz, the caller ID reads simplyHer.
“What are you doing?”
I startle so violently I almost drop both phones. “Nothing,” I say, my head jerking up to face Phoenix, whose forever-long call is apparently over. My heart is pumping faster than it should be, and something strange and fluttery is flitting around in my stomach.
“How’s your head?”
“It’s fine.” I hold out his phone to him, swallowing hard. Then I say, “Am I justHerin your contacts?”
He freezes in place, half out of his desk chair, his hand outstretched to take his phone. But that stillness only lasts for a brief second; he snatches his cell out of my grasp and sits back down, tucking it into his suit coat. “Yes,” he says, his voice casual. “Because I couldn’t be bothered to type in your whole name. So what?” He eyes me, raising one brow. “Why? What am I listed under in your phone? Cockatoo? Chicken?”
“Your name isn’t in my phone,” I say—stop admitting things!my brain screams, but my mouth keeps going—“because I have your number memorized.”
That cocky raised eyebrow of his is joined by the other as his expression turns to one of surprise.
And I think there must be something wrong with my eyes, because they can’t seem to move away from his; we’re staring at each other too long, too intently, and the space between us grows viscous as my pulse pounds in my ears.
Breathe; I need to breathe. Why can’t I breathe?
But I know exactly why I can’t breathe. Because of all thefemale contacts he has, of all the women he knows—I’m the one he didn’t need to name.
I’m the one he would think about when he saw the wordHer.
From outside, a violent crash of thunder shatters the sky; both of us jump, and the moment is gone.
A second later, the lights cut out.
They don’t disappear only in this room, but out on the floor as well; the whole building has lost power. And, as I whirl around and look out the window once more, I see that it’s not just us; through the slanting rain I can make out that the nearby buildings are dark as well.
From his desk behind me, Phoenix sighs. “Great.”
“Look at that.” I tap the window, and the squeak of leather sounds before Phoenix joins me.
“This might be a bad one,” he says, his voice grim. “I guess it’s good it’s happening now; everyone else has already gone home, and Wyatt is over on the mainland today.”
I eye the rain still coming down in sheets. “Should we wait it out, I guess?”
“Yes,” he says, settling back in his desk chair. “It won’t last for long.”
He’s wrong.
One hour later, the rain is still torrential, and the palm trees are losing leaves to the wind. The power isn’t back, and we’ve lost internet and cell service too.
“It’s not like I’m a weatherman,” he says irritably when I give him a look that clearly saysYou were way off.Then he leans his head back in his seat and closes his eyes.
Night is falling, so we’ve dug up some flashlights; one of them is propped up in a leather chair, casting its light on the ceiling. There’s food down in the refrigerator in the breakroom too, Phoenix says, food that will need to be eaten soon anyway now that the power is out.
Food and light aside, however, I am not reassured. It’s looking like we might have to stay the night here.
