I’m disappointed when Holden pulls back, but I work to hide it.

“We should get out of here,” he says. “Someone might look in at some point.”

I blink rapidly, recalibrating with reality. For however long we were kissing, I completely forgot we’re in a hotel pool after curfew, naked. “Right. Yeah.” I’m flustered. Turned on and confused. How does he keep doing this? Keep surprising me? Keep consuming me?

I swim toward the stairs. Holden hauls himself right out from the edge. Water sluices off his body and his muscles ripple, which does nothing to alleviate the ache between my legs. I watch as he adjusts himself and then pulls on his sweatshirt and sweatpants.

I hurry to put on my clothes too without bothering to dry off, not wanting to be the one of us left naked.

Water drips from my hair, soaking the hood of my sweatshirt immediately. I can feel droplets sliding down my skin beneath the fabric as I pull on my sneakers and confirm the room key is still in my pocket, along with my phone.

Holden holds the door for me, surprising me again.

“Thanks,” I murmur as I pass him and start down the hall toward the elevators. The lobby is empty and there’s no one at the front desk. I jab the up button twice, gnawing on my bottom lip as Holden catches up and stops next to me.

The doors slide open a few seconds later. I step inside and hit the button for floor 8. Holden shoves his hands in his pockets and leans back against the wall, making no move to hit another button.

When a seven flashes on the screen above the buttons, I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s already looking at me, and my heart flips right as the doors open with a ding.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I phrase it like a question, even though I know I will. We’re visiting the September 11 Memorial and Museum tomorrow morning and then leaving the city in the early afternoon.

“It is tomorrow, flower.” He straightens and walks past me into the carpeted hall. I hurry after him before the doors can close.

“You don’t have to walk me to my room. McKenzie might be back.”

“I’m walking to my room.” Holden pulls out a key identical to the one tucked in my pocket.

“Oh.” For some reason it didn’t occur to me he might be staying on the same floor of the hotel.

He sleeps across the hall from me every Friday night. But this feels different. Maybe it’s the lack of Sydney’s presence.

“Who are you rooming with?” I ask, trying to distract myself—and him—from my wrong assumption.

“Jordan. But he’s sleeping in Claire’s room tonight.”

Once again, “Oh” is the best response I can come up with.