Instant Karma - Marissa Meyer Page 0,136

okay. You’re safe in here. And I’m glad to see you’ve been taking care of each other.”

The rain continues to pound on the rooftop overhead, but it seems to have eased from the initial torrents.

“Prudence?” Quint’s voice echoes down the long corridor.

“Back here.” I stand up and the sea lions immediately return to snuggling each other.

When Quint reaches us, he looks concerned—but his face softens as soon as he spies the animals. “I wish the lighting was better in here,” he says. “That’d make a great picture.”

“It’s probably decent enough for a social media post anyway? People might be wondering how we’re faring with this storm.”

He nods and takes out his phone. When the flash sparks, Luna covers her head with her flippers again, but Lennon just peers up at Quint, confused.

“What did your mom say?”

“We should be good. Not much more we can do until the storm lets up. She’s happy we’re here. She wanted to come herself, but I guess there are flash floods happening all over the place and she didn’t think it would be safe to drive. And she said we might be better off staying here until the storm passes?”

I let myself out of Luna and Lennon’s pen. “I should probably call my parents, too,” I say, heading toward the lobby, where I’d dropped my phone and backpack as soon as we got here.

The phone rings twice before my mom answers, sounding frantic. I assume she’s been worried about me—but no. Ellie, who they keep trying to put to bed by eight o’clock, is still wide-awake, fighting her nightly sleepy-time routine with gusto. I can hear her wailing in the background. As for me, Mom had assumed that I was still on Main Street, probably hunkered down in Encanto. I tell her Quint and I came to the center to make sure the animals were okay, and after a moment’s hesitation, she offers to drive down and pick me up.

The offer is comforting, even though I can hear the exhaustion in her voice.

“No,” I say. “It’s all right. I’ll just stay here until the storm is over.”

“All right, sweetheart. That’s probably for the best. Be safe, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

I hang up and turn around to see—

Quint.

Quint is standing in the doorway, just a few feet away from me.

Quint is shirtless.

Quint is wearing a faded blue towel around his waist, and using a second towel to dry his hair.

I yelp. “Holy—! What—! Why are you—?” I spin back around, my face aflame. My elbow knocks my backpack off the reception desk and it lands with a splat on the floor, scattering my pens and a couple of slightly damp notebooks.

Even though I’m not facing Quint anymore, I squeeze my eyes shut. “Where did your clothes go?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then—Quint loses it. His laughter comes on strong, and it doesn’t stop. I frown, listening to his guffaws, his howls, his gasps for air.

After a while, my surprise and embarrassment start to give way to annoyance.

Bracing myself, I turn just enough so I can glare at him over my shoulder. Quint doesn’t seem to notice. He’s fallen against the wall and is struggling to breathe. He has tears on his face. Honest-to-goodness tears.

“Sorry,” he gasps, once he’s managed to bring his hysteria under control. “Just—your face! Oh my god, Pru.” He wipes the tears away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. But … I mean, you’ve seen guys without shirts before, right? You’ve been to the beach?”

“That’s different!” I stomp my foot. Petulantly. Immaturely. I don’t care. Why is he almost naked?

There’s still a distant amusement lingering on Quint’s face, but at least he seems to be done laughing at me. “How is it different?” he says, clearly teasing me.

Because it just is, I want to say.

Because they’re not you.

I clear my throat. “You just surprised me. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not scarred for life?”

“Remains to be seen.”

I turn back to him, but can’t bring myself to meet his eye. I find myself staring at the satirical Jaws poster instead. “So, where did your clothes go, exactly?”

“The dryer. I was just heading upstairs to grab some volunteer shirts for us.”

Oooh. The dryer. I wilt with relief to hear such a practical explanation. We use the washer and dryer daily for the animals’ blankets and towels, but it didn’t occur to me to use it for us.

“Right. Okay. Good idea.”

Quint hands me a towel and I start drying

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