Page 93 of Scoring Lessons

“We’re not dumb high school kids sneaking around, Olivia. Relax.”

She puffed a short breath. “No. We’re two thirty-year-olds who are sneaking around, which is somehow worse.” She turned back to the bed where a small backpack was open and shoved a makeup bag inside. “Care to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Nope.”

She looked up. “Are you kidnapping me to the desert?”

“I would never kidnap you somewhere so cliché.”

“That’s not a no.”

I grinned. “It’s not a yes, either.”

She pointed at me. “You had me pack an overnight bag. I’m allowed to have questions.”

“Stay curious. It’s good for the brain.”

“So is not being murdered in the desert, Wesley.”

I grabbed her bag off the bed and swung it onto my shoulder before she could argue about it. “You’re not getting murdered.”

“That’s exactly what someone would say before they murder someone.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she was already reaching for the door. When she pulled it open, her whole body went rigid.

“Anderson!” Her voice pitched up half an octave. “What are you doing here?”

Shit.

I stepped sideways into the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind me as quietly as I could manage.

“Why are you calling me by our last name? Weirdo.” Henry’s voice filtered through the door, muffled but close enough.

“What do you want?”

I pressed my ear against the door.

“Kennedy and I are thinking about hitting The Strip. Thought you might want to come.”

“I’m kind of beat, so I’ll pass.”

“You’re wearing going-out clothes.”

“I was going to go have some dinner, but I changed my mind.” An awkward, silent beat passed. Then an unconvincing yawn. “I’m tired.”

“Whatever, fine,” he said. “Hey, have you seen Wesley by any chance? I went by his room, and he wasn’t around.”

“Maybe he’s at a strip club,” she said, casual as ever. “Getting his freak on, or whatever it is manwhores do in their spare time.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head with a silent chuckle.

Henry laughed. “Your hate for Wesley will never change, will it?”

“Took you this long to figure that out?” Another fake yawn.

My heart contracted in my chest at her words. They were too quick to be a lie, and I hated that.

“Okay, bye now,” she sing-songed, followed by the muffled sound of a door closing.