One Week - By Nikki Van De Car Page 0,27

at the grey, limp mushroom—at least, I think it's a mushroom—and wrinkle my nose.

“No, thanks.”

I keep him company while he finishes his dinner, and then he keeps me company while I choke down mine.

“Uh, do you want to come hang out in the roomette?” I ask hesitantly.

Jess grins. “I thought you'd never ask. Let me just swing by my seat and grab my bag.” He signals the waiter for the check, and then looks at me expectantly.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you think I could have the rest of my eighty bucks now? I'll buy your pasta, but I need your money to do it.”

I dig into my purse for my wallet, blushing. I can't believe I never paid him. I'm usually really good about stuff like that. I hand him the money, and insist on buying my own dinner.

“You already bought me a cheeseburger,” I remind him. “In fact, I should take this one.”

“No way,” Jess says firmly. “If you're going to buy me dinner, it had better be something better than this.”

We end up splitting it, though Jess spends the hike back to the roomette speculating on which New York restaurant he should have me take him to when we finally get there. I do my best to ignore him.

“Wow,” Jess says after I unlock the door. “This is the smallest room that has ever existed. Except for maybe those pods in Tokyo.”

“It doesn't even qualify as a room,” I agree.

“Which is why they call it a roomette, I guess.” Jess takes the seat opposite the one I'd spent the afternoon in, and immediately the roomette feels infinitely smaller than it already was. I have to squeeze past him to sit down, and since Jess is slouching down, there's no way for me to sit without our knees touching.

Jess spots my book, and grabs it before I can stop him.

“Wow,” he laughs, looking up from the page I'd marked. “Delia sure has skills, for someone who…” He checks the back cover. “For someone who was raised by nuns in the south of France.”

“It's what they sell at the newsstand,” I mutter, looking away. “There aren't exactly a lot of options, and I was desperate.”

“I guess you must have been. What else did you get?” Jess leans over the side of his seat and digs around in my bag of purchases, and comes up with the deck of cards. “Good thinking,” he says. He opens the pack and begins shuffling. “What do you want to play?”

I shrug. “Whatever. What do you know?”

We start off with War because it's likely to pass a lot of time. Which is true, but it's so freaking mindless I wonder if it actually makes time slow down. Like maybe it would be more interesting to just stare at the wall. But then we start to get into this rhythm. We're not talking at all, just slapping down cards and picking them up, and it's comfortable and quiet. Like when you're sitting in the pool, and you know you've stayed in the water too long and your fingers and toes have gotten all pruney, but you just want to float for a while longer anyway.

Eventually Jess wins and is disproportionately pleased by this—it's not like it takes a lot of skill, I remind him. I take the deck, and give it a quick riffle shuffle, and place it on the table for him to cut. He does so, raising his eyebrows.

“Fancy,” he comments. “Something I should know?”

Only that it's time to play something a little more interesting. “There are two bags of Skittles in the bag,” I say. “Would you grab them?”

We designate different values for the different flavors. Jess has more Skittles of higher value than I do, but I'm not worried. I deal for Texas Hold ‘Em (we won't bother with blinds since there are only two of us).

“Do you know how to play this?” I ask.

Jess rolls his eyes. “Don't overplay it, Bee. I get it, you know how to play poker, but won't it be humiliating for you when I beat you?”

I smile sweetly. “I'm sure it will be. Your bet.”

Jess sighs and looks at his cards. “Orange Skittle.”

Wimpy bet. But it is early. I put down my orange Skittle—Lord knows I have plenty to spare—and deal out the flop. Hmm. Not bad. While it's likely that Jess has at least a pair of some kind, I've got a pair of kings, and could potentially work up to a flush.

Jess bets two yellows.