wrapping the towel around myself, but it barely covers my belly button. Not exactly the attire I want to walk around in under these circumstances. Or under any circumstances, really.
In the end, I use two towels—one for my top half, and one for my bottom half. It's a little weird-looking, but it works. I open the door a crack and peer down the hall. It's empty. I guess the fighting couple went back into their room. I can hear muffled voices coming from Room 105, but the yelling seems to have stopped. For a moment I consider just going back to bed, but then I hear something crash and the sound of glass breaking, and I scurry out into the hall, lock the door behind me, and try to knock, not pound, on Jess's door.
Just after my fist hits the door, it occurs to me that Jess might be sleeping through all of this, and I'm about to seriously piss him off. But the door opens after only a few moments, and Jess looks irritated, but wide awake.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he asks.
I open my mouth to explain, when the noise from Room 105 increases as their door opens and the fight moves back out into the hall. Jess quickly yanks me inside and locks the door behind us.
“Thanks,” I say breathlessly. His room is the mirror image of mine. It even has the same faded sailboat painting above the rumpled bed.
“Uh uh. Just—why?” he says, gesturing at the towels.
I flush, embarrassed. “My clothes are all wet. I washed them out and they're still dripping.” I cross my arms over my chest, realize instantly that just makes it worse, and end up just kind of flailing my arms around like a freak. This was such a stupid idea.
But Jess just nods like this is a perfectly normal thing to have done, and bends over into his duffel. He tosses me a faded Kanye West T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and I smile gratefully as I head into the bathroom to change.
When I come out, Jess has made the bed and is setting out the same assortment of vending machine tapas I ate earlier. “Hungry?” he asks.
And while a second ago I couldn't have imagined wanting to eat another Dorito ever again, my stomach rumbles and before I even realize it I'm sitting cross-legged on the bed with my hand in the bag.
“I like to eat a Cool Ranch Dorito with a bite of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup,” Jess says, and takes a bite of this example of culinary genius. “Want to try?” he asks with his mouth full.
I shake my head and try not to gag. “No thanks. Were you by any chance hanging out with the friends that got you kicked out of school when you came up with that one?”
Jess shrugs. “Maybe. Tastes good even without the pot though.” He waves a tortilla chip and peanut butter cup in front of my face. “Sure you don't want to try it?”
I think for a moment about all the crazy things I've done today, and how this is really the least insane of the lot, and figure I might as well go for it.
I get up to spit it out into the garbage can. “That is the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten.”
Jess grins. “Fine. More for me,” and he crams another bite into his mouth. I climb back on the bed and help myself to a plain old Dorito. We munch in silence for a moment, listening to the fight continue out in the hall.
“I think they do this when they're bored,” Jess says, nodding his head at the door.
I laugh in spite of myself. “What, you mean they had nothing else to do tonight?”
“Yeah,” Jess chuckles. “This is how they keep the magic alive.”
I shudder. “Oh, I really don't want to think about that.”
“Too late,” Jess grins. “So, um…” he pauses, taking another bite of peanut butter cup and chip. “Is your mom out in New York or something? Is that why you're headed that way?”
My smile fades and I shake my head. “No, she's not there. Or I don't think she is. I just want to go someplace far away. Someplace different.”
Jess examines a chip closely, and then says, in an offhand way, “I guess I would have thought you would go where she is. This kind of seems like the perfect opportunity to find her…” he trails off, and looks at me expectantly.
I