"What do you mean you don't have any other rooms?" Rue threw up her hands in disbelief.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we're fully booked," the receptionist said, offering a sympathetic smile that only made Rue more annoyed.
"This is not happening," Rue muttered through gritted teeth, forcing a polite smile of her own.
She pulled out her phone, trying to call Charlotte. No answer. Then Jason. Still nothing. Of course.
And, of course, she hadn't bothered asking what room either of them was in—because who would've guessed she'd end up homeless on an island getaway?
Now she didn't have a room, didn't know where her best friend was, and couldn't even storm into someone else's space to park her frustration.
This had Charlotte's fingerprints all over it. And the fact that she'd been outwitted again made Rue itch with a very specific kind of revenge.
But for now, she had no choice.
She'd have to go back to the room.
Even if that meant facing Elijah.
She needed to stow her luggage—and maybe she'd crash at the bar or on a hammock. She'd figure it out later.
One crisis at a time.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
Elijah stood by the window, phone in hand, a flicker of irritation on his face. Maybe he was trying to call Jason too and hitting the same dead ends.
The moment he saw her, he slipped the phone into his pocket and turned to face her, slowly closing the distance between them.
"They're fully booked," he said.
"I know." Rue sighed, resigned. "I guess we're sharing for tonight."
Elijah offered a small, reassuring smile. "Not surprised. They booked you last minute anyway. Don't worry—I don't snore."
I know, Rue thought.
She remembered.
Long lunch breaks by the riverbanks, the two of them sneaking off to nap under the shade. She'd lie beside him, pretending to rest, but really just watching him breathe. Back then, there were no career worries. No looming futures. Just two teenagers skipping class and getting away with it.
"Do you need help with your bag?"
His voice pulled her back to the present.
"Umm… if you can," Rue said, motioning for him to grab one of the bags.
Elijah nodded and stepped forward, lifting it cautiously.
Rue watched him as he turned his back to her, her chest tightening.
Why do I feel like this?
Like her heart was caught between memory and confusion, yearning to reach out but still tangled in all the questions they never got to ask—let alone answer.
He wore light black joggers and a plain white t-shirt, simple and effortless. But it was his ankle that caught her eye.
Just above his sneaker, she spotted it.
The anklet.
The same one she gave him before graduation.
She hadn't thought about it in years.
And yet—there it was. Still worn. Still his.
Rue looked away quickly, pretending not to notice. But it was too late, her eyes met his, those piercing brown eyes. He followed her gaze and seemed to have noticed, his jaw tightened.
"I didn't think you were the sentimental type," she said finally, her voice low. "You still have it. The anklet."
"I used to wearing it I guess." he said, shrugging lightly.
Rue studied his face, waiting for something more— a look, a smirk even a lie.
Nothing.
"I may have also tied it into a tight knot," he added after a beat. "If I remove it, I might have to break it."
"Right."
Rue forced a smile at him, steadying herself. Maybe she misread everything. Maybe it was all in her head. Her heart dipped— subtle but deep. But what does she expect? People move on.
"Since I'm the uninvited guest here," she said, shifting her tone, "I'll take the floor, you can have the bed."
"Don't be silly,'' Elijah said grabbing a pillow and setting it on the floor. "I take the floor— you stay in the bed. The bed is too soft anyway, I'm used to a firm mattress."
He said it casually, like it was a preference. Like it wasn't a big deal.
"Okay, I'm not going to argue with that," Rue managed, trying to match his casual energy.
"If you don't mind, can I use the bathroom for a bit? I'm dying for a soak."
"You go on ahead," Elijah said, giving a small nod—though there was a flicker of something on his face. Disappointment? Maybe.
"Thanks," Rue beamed, a little too brightly.
She dropped to her knees by her luggage and started digging through it.
She had this habit—pretending to be busy to escape tension.
Unfortunately, her suitcase was an absolute disaster. Underwear tangled with charging cables. Skin care half-zipped in a pouch that had exploded. Her tripod elbowed everything else out of the way.
In her defense, she'd packed in a rush—Charlotte had invited her last minute, as usual, and she barely had time to toss things together.
She tried to sort through it discreetly, angling the bag to shield her mess from view, but she could feel Elijah's gaze flick toward her, quiet and unreadable.
To his credit, he didn't say anything. Just sat on the edge of the bed, looking politely away as she bustled in and out of the bathroom like a woman on a mission, forgetting one thing at a time—first her toothbrush, then a hair clip, then her towel.
Each time, she gave him a quick nod like it was totally normal to keep making return trips through shared awkward silence.
It was not. Stupid Rue.
When she closed the door to the bathroom, she didn't expect him to say anything.
But he did.
"How have you been?"
She paused, her hand still resting on the doorknob.
There were a dozen things she wanted to say. She wanted to ask him the same question—really ask, like she had in her head all those nights she waited for him to message her.
Like he said he would.
But he never did.
"Fine," she replied quickly through the door.
Too quickly.
She hated how her voice sounded—tight, like something was stuck in her throat, like she was holding back too much.
Silence followed. Just a beat.
And for a moment, she wished she'd said something else. Something warmer. Or even colder. Just… not that.
With a small sigh, she turned on the tap, letting the tub fill. The rush of water echoed around her, but she could still hear the faintest shuffle outside the door.
His shadow lingered.
She could see it in the gap under the door—still, uncertain, like he wasn't sure whether to stay or walk away.
With a shaky breath, Rue found her voice.
"How have you been?"
It took him longer to answer than it had taken her.
By the time he finally spoke, Rue was already seated on the floor, her back against the wall that separated them.
She didn't sit near the door—didn't want her shadow to give her away.
But still, she stayed close. Maybe if she sat there long enough, she'd understand him again.
"Everything's going good, I guess," Elijah said, his voice soft.
Then a pause.
"Especially now."
Rue's heart skipped a beat.
"That's all I wanted to hear," she said softly, standing up.
She turned the tap, increasing the flow into the tub—letting the rush of water swell and drown the silence between them.