No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

“Door hinges?”
“I hate door hinges,” Ashley said, making an exaggerated
shiver. “They freak me out, you know?”
“Huh.”
Darby stopped by the window, watching snowflakes pelt
the glass, and waited for Ashley to read her note. In her
periphery, she saw him lift the napkin and unfold it under the
table’s edge to furtively read it on his knee, out of Ed and
Sandi’s view. In scratchy blue pen, Darby had written: MEET
ME IN THE RESTROOM I HAVE SOMETHING YOU
NEED TO SEE.
He paused.
Then he produced a black pen from his own pocket,
thought for a moment, and scribbled a response. Then he stood
up and casually approached the window, too, fluidly slipping
the napkin back into Darby’s hand as he passed. He did this as
naturally as a pickpocket.
She unfolded it and read his handwriting.
I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND.
She sighed. “Jesus Christ.”
He looked at her.
She mouthed: Not what I meant.
He mouthed: What?
Not. What. I. Meant.
Now they were both standing conspicuously by the
window with their backs to the room. Lars was probably
watching them, wondering what they were mouthing to each
other. Ed and Sandi, too—
Ashley touched her shoulder, mouthing again: What?
Darby felt it, that familiar paralysis locking up her bones.
Like climbing onstage and forgetting your lines. If she spoke,
they’d overhear. If she didn’t, she risked making a scene. The