Room 814

The rain started twenty minutes after they checked into the hotel.

By seven the rooftop bar was closed. By eight their dinner reservation had been cancelled. By nine Emma was standing at the window of Room 814 watching water run down the glass.

"This was supposed to be our romantic weekend."

Noah was under the blanket. "This is romantic."

"You're eating pretzels in bed."

"Romantically."

She threw a pillow at him.

They had been planning the weekend for two months. No work, no errands, no friends joining at the last minute. Now Miami was disappearing behind a wall of rain.

Emma picked up her phone. "Okay. New plan."

"Room service?"

"No."

"Mini bar?"

"No."

She searched games to play with boyfriend in hotel and got exactly what she expected. Twenty Questions. Would You Rather. Never Have I Ever.

Noah leaned over. "We can invent something better than this."

Then she scrolled past a couples dare game she remembered from somewhere. TwoNite.

"One phone."

"Even better."

"No accounts."

Noah sat up. "Sold."

Private choices first. Emma went through hers with her back to him; Noah did his with the phone tilted toward the window, which she found insulting and also correct. Then the game.

At first the storm was still part of the evening — thunder rattled the window every few minutes. Then neither of them noticed it anymore.

The phone moved back and forth between them. Some dares lasted thirty seconds. Others sent them wandering around Room 814 looking for something they could use.

The strangest part was how quickly the hotel room stopped feeling like a hotel room. It became part of the game. The chair. The mirror. The ridiculous bathrobes. The unopened bottle of champagne they had almost forgotten about.

At 11:42 Emma noticed the rain had stopped.

"The rooftop might reopen."

Noah looked toward the window. Then at the phone. "Do you want to go?"

Emma picked up the champagne. "No."

Outside, Miami was beginning again.

Room 814 wasn't finished yet.