Chapter 2: One on One

Emily

“Are you kidding me?” My sister’s voice rips through the bathroom door, topping the music thumping from her phone. Which is saying something. It’s been playing full blast for the past hour.

“What’s up,” I call. Raya jerks the door open and sticks her head out, a towel wrapped high around her chest.

“Was the water cold when you took a shower?”

“Yeah, why?” Freezing showers are part of my routine back at school. It shocks the system awake, which is what I need to get me going most days. I’ve almost forgotten not everybody lives that way.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Raya grunts, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. She tiptoes out, shivering and covered in goosebumps as she leaves wet footprints on the floor. “Honestly, Em, what the hell?” She plops down on the edge of the bed and yanks the comforter over her. With just her face poking out she looks like a tipsy Eskimo.

I start snickering in spite of myself. My sister glares at me, not amused.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Want me to go down to the desk and say something?”

“I can’t go like this, can I?” She shrugs to indicate that besides the blanket and the towel, she’s not dressed to be out in public. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s played Lady Godiva, but I decide not to remind her of it.

“Alright.” I grab my room key. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hang on.” Raya makes a grabby hand at the bottle of whiskey on the table by the door. It’s already a quarter gone, and while I’ve helped a bit, she’s done most of the heavy lifting.

I hand it over with an indulgent smile, encouraging her not to get too crazy before heading out. “We have the whole evening ahead, remember?”

“Not if I can’t grab a shower!” The door clicks shut behind me and I head downstairs. Thankfully, whatever party was happening in the lobby seems to have disbanded. The bad news is it looks like the whole staff has gone along with them. There’s nobody behind the counter.

I step into the lobby, and a peculiar chill steals over me. That’s when I see him.

It’s the guy I caught eyes with earlier. He’s the only person in the deserted lobby, sitting with his back to me with a book in his lap. Even without having to see his face, I know it’s him. I haven’t made a sound, but I’m sure he can feel I’m here. His spine straightens a tiny bit, and I almost turn around and dash back up the stairs.

Which would be silly, of course. What’s there to be scared of? All the same, a tiny shimmer goes off in my stomach as I walk past him, and I keep my eyes trained on the empty counter to keep from looking back.

Crazy as it is, I swear I feel his eyes on me. Which shouldn’t be so strange—we’re the only ones here, after all—but the intensity of it has my skin buzzing all over.

Maybe it’s my imagination.

A quick glance over my shoulder tells me it’s not. He’s watching me with laser focus, and I snap back to the reception desk, pretending not to have noticed. Which is silly because there’s no pretending we didn’t just lock eyes. That’s twice now. Each time for less than a second, yet I could almost draw his face from memory. It’s like I know him from somewhere I can’t put my finger on.

“She’s just stepped away,” he says, his deep voice more of a rumble than a purr. It shoots straight up my spine and I face him again, hiding my nerves behind a polite smile.

“I’m sorry?”

“The receptionist.” He nods past me. “She should be back soon.”

“Oh. Thank you.” A weak laugh flies past my lips. “I hate to bother the staff, but there’s no hot water in our room. It doesn’t bother me, really, but my sister is ready to freak out. She’s been humming like crazy from the minute we took off, and now she’s ready to pop. As if everything standing between her and a pub crawl is the worst kind of enemy, you know? Like, calm down, am I right?”

Oh, my God, I’m babbling.

He’s got a wry look on his face, the corner of his mouth twisted up in amusement. My cheeks burn crimson and I tuck my chin to try and hide.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload like that.” To my immense relief, he laughs.

“It’s alright. New Orleans has a way of loosening the tongue.” Am I wrong, or was there a hint of seduction in the way he said that?

“Maybe. But if this is how I ramble after a shot and a half, I’d hate to see what I’d be like after everything my sister has planned.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He hasn’t blinked since we started talking, and now he tips his head to the side like he’s studying me. “I’m Thomas.”

“Emily.” I feel like I ought to shake his hand, but there’s an animal quality to him that makes me keep my distance. Not like he’s dangerous, but like I would be if I got close. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Emily. So.” He closes his book and sets it on the table next to him. “What brings you to New Orleans?” Just then, a shouting rabble crowds past the door and I gesture as if to say, ‘isn’t it obvious?’ That makes him laugh again, and my shoulders drop. “What about you?”

A cryptic expression passes over his face.

“Business.” There’s a billion mysteries tucked behind that single word that make my body itch to know more.

“Have you been to New Orleans often?” I ask.

“Many times.”

“Well…” I look over my shoulder, and there’s still no sign of the desk clerk. “What sort of recommendations do you have for a first-time visitor?” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Mardi Gras isn’t enough?”

“Not for everyone.” It comes out far flirtier than I mean it to, and my cheeks go pink again.

“Preservation Hall is a must. It’s not far from here—they do live jazz, and the atmosphere is exceptional.”

“Oh.” I can’t stop my features from dropping. “I was hoping from the name it was something historical.”

“It is,” he says quickly. “Is that more your style? The history rather than the party?”

“Absolutely. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to having fun, but I’d like to see something more than bars while I’m here.”

“Admirable.” It’s hard to tell if he means my goals or just me. The look in his eye says it might be the latter. “You’re a rare breed, Emily.” The compliment makes my blood run hot. “In that case, I’d suggest the Gallier House. It’s not far from here, and looks very much the way it did a hundred years ago.”

“You say that like you were there.” I mean it as a joke, but his expression is so guarded I wonder if I’ve offended him. No sooner do I think that than a smile eases his face.

“You’re funny. After Gallier, I’d recommend the Old Ursuline Convent.”

“Sounds haunted,” I say. “How exciting.” Something new flickers into his eyes.

“Is it?” The question brings me up short, and he leans forward in his seat. “Are you interested in haunted things, Emily?”

My voice is gone. It’s like I’m a little kid, or locked in a dream where no matter how I try to speak, words won’t come. All I can do is nod. The sparkle in his eyes deepens.

“In that case, you must visit the LaLaurie Mansion. It’s famous for being the most haunted building in all of New Orleans.” His lingers somewhere between sinister and alluring, and my knees get weak. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was being hypnotized.

“Can I help you, miss?” The voice behind me makes me cry out in surprise, wheeling around in terror. The receptionist is back, looking at me every bit as startled as I am. Thomas laughs so hard I realize he laid the trap right out for me.

“Sorry,” I say to the befuddled woman behind the counter. “I just… Sorry.”

“Was there something you needed?”

“Yes, my sister and I are in 105 and there’s no hot water in the shower.”

“Oh! I thought I told Ms. Pierson at check in – we’re doing some routine maintenance in the boiler room. The hot water should be back within the hour. I’m sorry for any inconvenience.”

“It’s no problem,” I assure her. “Things were so crazy when we arrived. I’m sure she just missed it. Thanks so much!”

Thomas is still watching me when I turn around. It shouldn’t surprise me since I could feel his eyes. My mouth is inexplicably dry, and I square my shoulders with a polite smile before heading for the stairs again.

“Goodnight,” I say brightly.

“Goodnight, Emily.” My name is like velvet on his tongue, but he doesn’t twist in his seat to watch me go. He stays staring straight ahead, but it feels like he watches me all the way back to my room.

To most people our exchange would seem like a routine one, but I can’t shake the feeling there’s more behind it. I’ve never felt this kind of dark electricity with a stranger, and find myself wondering if I’ll ever see him again—and what I would do if I did.