Chapter 5: After Hours

On Saturday night Laney came over with a bag of dumplings and a spreadsheet of her own.

"Look," she said, and held up her phone.

It was a chart in the pool's group chat, titled TALLGRASS SEAT: ODDS.

Roz S. was at 52 percent and Drake G. was at 48.

"Why am I only at fifty-two?"

"You've been smiling at your phone since Thursday," Laney said. "Smiling people lose. It's science."

"I smile at my phone constantly."

"You do not. You glare at it. Today, you smiled at the rice cooker."

She sat cross-legged on my couch and ate a dumpling whole.

She is a tiny round woman who has never in her life pretended to mind her own business.

"I'm not asking," she said. "I'm saying I have a pin that says 'Ask Me Anything,' and you could just tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Okay," said Laney pleasantly. "I'll find out when it ends in a lawsuit."

She left at ten with half the dumplings and a look.

I washed up, took a shower, and went to bed in a T-shirt with my phone on the pillow.

It was Saturday, which meant it was Drake's day.

At 10:40 the phone buzzed on my chest and I jumped so hard I nearly dropped it.

I picked up.

"Szymanski."

His voice was low and close.

"It's Saturday," I said.

"I know what day it is. I haven't had a day like this in years. Are you in bed?"

"Yes."

"Turn off the lamp."

I turned off the lamp.

The room went dark and the phone glowed blue against my cheek.

"Good," Drake said, and my stomach flipped. "Tell me what you're wearing."

"A T-shirt."

"And?"

"And nothing."

There was a sound on the line, a short exhale.

"Slide your hand down," he said. "Not under yet. On top."

I put my palm flat on my stomach, then lower, over my bare skin, and shivered.

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