Road Trip (Jenna Ortega X Emma Myers)

Chapter 4 | Jenna - Flagstaff [1]

I didn't intend to save the picture. It felt like a violation somehow. I knew it was a magazine cover, something probably millions of people had already seen, but sitting next to her made it feel too intimate. I didn't have to be content with staring at the picture and imagining the way her easy power filled the air around her; I could turn my head and see it. So the cover photo, with Emma bathed in shadow and swimming in dark thoughts, was unnecessary. I didn't need to save the picture.

Okay, fine. Maybe I saved the picture.

And maybe I kept pulling it up surreptitiously on my phone when I knew Emma wouldn't see it. Perhaps I kept shooting her half-glances and trying to imagine what was happening behind that far off look. There was a tiny possibility my eyes fell below her shoulders to the modest t-shirt she wore, imagining the glorious body I now had the smallest hint of beneath. But I didn't let her see all that.

At least not on purpose.

"What have you been staring at all day?" I jumped as a hand appeared in front of my face, Emma's attempt to grab my phone away from me. I yanked it back frantically, then realized how guilty I looked. I plastered a fake smile across my face and looked up at her.

"Nothing!" I insisted. I locked it quickly and shoved it in the front pocket of my flannel button up. Emma's smile wobbled precariously, and I realized she still thought I was reading tabloid trash about her.

"Fine," she said with an attempt to be airy.

"Keep your secrets." She stacked her dirty dishes on top of the room service tray and crossed back to the bed opposite the one I sat on, where she polished off her drink.

I added my dishes from our dinner to the tray and stood to put them outside the hotel room door for pickup.

"I don't have secrets," I muttered, trying not to look as guilty as I felt for ogling her all day.

A hand on my shoulder stopped me just at the door, and I turned around. She stood right behind me, an empty glass in her hand. The tray wobbled and sang with the clink of dishware as I tried to take the glass from her. Instead, she set it gently on top of herself, then opened the door for me. I set the tray on the ground and let her close the door behind me.

"Don't try denying it," she said, her lips twisting dangerously. "Not with a-what did you call me? A 'young tech star?' If I wanted to know what's on your phone, I could find out in a second."

I blanched, the color draining from my face. She laughed at this, her hand running up the side of my arm as she brushed past me and sauntered back to her bed. I trailed after, feeling seriously off-kilter. When I sat down on my bed, I realized what had happened.

"Hey!" I cried, leaping for the phone in her hands.

She cackled wildly, hardly the refined laugh I'd heard so far. "Hah! The first rule of hacking: don't rule out picking pockets!"

I was moving too fast, my momentum uncontrolled now that I had launched myself across the room. I tackled her, catching her expression of alarm only for a second before our bodies collided. My body weight pinned her to the bed, and she squealed. Somehow, she extricated her arms and held the phone up in front of my face, just like I had done to her in the truck. I grabbed for it, but she pulled it away. Then I heard the pop as my phone unlocked, and my stomach dropped to my feet.

She froze suddenly, her body going still underneath me on the bed. I knew the picture was still pulled up, I knew. I hoped desperately that it was at least not zoomed in on any particular feature. I had been entertaining myself with that for a good part of the day, and I would rather she not know that.