sleep in a tent, and she understands why I’m switching to an RV.
Akara explains, “The Yale boys are going to ask where we’re all sleeping in this thing.”
“Fuck,” Banks says, realizing the same thing as Akara. But I still don’t see the problem.
My frown deepens. “I don’t get it. I’m taking the single and you two are cramming in the Queen. Right?”
Banks points to the dinette area, a table and two cushioned seats. “That doesn’t have a mattress.”
“So?” It still converts into a bed. There’s another cushion stored somewhere. The table lowers and the extra cushion goes on top. Winona won’t bat an eye, so why would Farrow and Oscar?
“The Yale boys won’t believe I let you sleep there over the bed,” Akara says. “It’s going to draw attention.”
“Cumbuckets,” I mutter and ignore a weird look from Neil. “Fine. We can find something that has a bunk.”
We all exit, and Neil claps his hands together. “We find a winner?”
Akara takes over, knowing that I don’t love small talk. “Unfortunately, it’s just a little small for us. We’d like to see another.”
Neil nods and looks between the three of us. “Maybe if I knew your situation better, I could help.” He eyes Banks’ height like that’s the sole problem. I’ve always been the one given a double-take for my height, so I know how it feels. But definitely not to the extent that Banks gets.
Neil asks him, “Are you sleeping in the bed or the single?”
“Wherever,” Banks says.
“The bed,” Akara and I refute together.
Neil narrows his eyes at me. “So the couple is in the bed.” He looks to Akara. “And you’re on the single.”
Couple.
Couple!
Cum-nugget, he thinks Banks and I are together. It was me holding Banks’ head that gave Neil that conclusion, wasn’t it? I roast a shade of red. “Um,” I say, feeling Akara’s hurt in the air. “We’re not a couple.”
Banks’ jaw tenses.
Fuck.
I’m fucking this up.
“They’re actually both taking the bed,” I say quickly, motioning from Banks to Akara. “We’re all just friends here.”
“Good friends,” Banks says.
“Really good friends,” Akara adds like he’s trying to top Banks.
Okay, lots of testosterone is pumping into the air right now. I am both turned on and worried that they’re going to start testing the boundaries of their friendship.
I am not a Friendship Assassin. If I repeat it enough in my head, maybe it’ll be true.
Neil looks a little freaked out but he covers quickly by pointing to another trailer. “This one might be better suited for three friends.”
As we follow him, my phone buzzes.
Sulli-Bear! I’m pulling in to the RV place now. Can’t wait to see your gorgeous face <3 – Nona-Frog
She adds a ton of nature emojis, and my chest swells like I’m about to rush downstairs on Christmas morning. My sister is here. Then I suddenly remember all I’m keeping from her.
Cougar attacks.
Bachelorette-style dating with my bodyguards.
Hey, at least I’m still vegan.
My stomach sinks regardless. I’ve realized that I won’t be able to hide the cougar attack. Clothes conceal most of our healing wounds, but we still have visible scratches. Plus, the bite mark on Akara’s elbow is in plain sight. She’ll ask.
I won’t lie.
And so I’ll finally have to come clean.
I quickly text her back a big smiley face and hearts.
Akara whispers into his mic, and I think he’s probably giving our location to Winona’s bodyguard. Greer Bell is on Security Force Epsilon, which means that for the first time this whole trip, someone from Price’s Triple Shield is here.
It’s going to put a strain on Akara, seeing as how his company is in an unofficial competition with Price’s.
Even though Price Kepler has been my mom’s bodyguard for so long—before I was even born—my parents still weren’t upset that Akara jumped ship and started his own firm. My mom was really fucking excited for him. She said it suited him more being his own boss.
As Neil stops at a sleek black trailer, I hear off in the distance, “Ca-Caw! Ca-Caw!”
I cup my hands to my mouth. “Ca-Caw! Ca-Caw!”
My little sister rounds the corner with the biggest smile. Her backpack thwacks against her as she races towards me. Her copper-haired bodyguard jogs next to her, not having a hard time keeping up with my fifteen-year-old sister.
I close the distance and we hug tight. She’s only an inch shorter, and with thick-soled Timberland boots, we’re the same height. Wearing cargo pants and a men’s baggy, khaki-colored button-down knotted at her belly button, she looks pretty fucking cool.