Chapter 22: A Tuesday

"Well," Sam said into the dark. "That was the one thing he told us not to do."

The green light over the latch was the only light in the room.

I put my hand on the steel door and pushed.

It did not move.

"There's an inside handle on order," I said. "Thursday."

"Do you have your phone?"

"It's in the bouquet."

"The bouquet is on the table outside."

"Yes."

We looked at each other in the green glow.

Then Sam started to laugh, the quiet helpless kind, with his head against the shelf.

"Roz comes at noon," I said. "It's ten past ten."

"That's almost two hours."

"It's thirty-four degrees."

"I could warm you up," Sam said.

I stared at him.

"Is that a line?"

"It's the worst line I've ever said. I've been working on it since the stairs."

"Today's the first," I said. "It's Tuesday."

"Is it?"

"Jenna decides what happens on Tuesdays."

His laugh stopped.

"I added that to your napkin," he said.

"You signed under it."

"I did."

"Then come here," I said.

He crossed the cold room in two steps.

His mouth came down on mine, and the heat of it was almost a shock.

I pulled his coat off his shoulders, and it hit the floor, and then his shirt.

His hands were under my sweater, flat against my bare back, and I gasped into his mouth at the cold of his fingers.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

I stripped my sweater over my head.

He bent and took my nipple into his mouth through my bra, then pushed the cup down and took it bare, sucking, slow.

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