Should be easy enough.
Turns out, it’s not.
When I make it up to the floor our rooms are on, I find Jenny slumped over on the ground in front of her room. She glares at me as I approach, looking as exhausted as I feel.
“You okay, Jenny?” I ask, as gentle as I can manage without vomiting all of my messy feelings right at her feet.
She curls her lips disdainfully and glances away from me. “My key card won’t work. Can’t get into my room, and the computer is malfunctioning. They can’t assign me a new one until they get it fixed in the morning.”
As if this night couldn’t get any worse.
I drag my hand down my face roughly, huffing out a breath in an attempt to center myself. Glancing between her room and mine, right next door, I make up my mind before I even really think about it.
“Come on, then. Not going to leave you out in the hallway all night,” I say, holding a hand out to her. “I’ll take the couch. Won’t say a word, alright? Let’s just get some sleep.”
Jenny eyes me distrustfully for a long second, but finally fumbles for my hand and lets me pull her up. I ignore the lightning that runs through my veins at the feeling of her skin against mine.
“You better not snore.”
I laugh as I swipe the card and hold the door open for her, something in my chest feeling a little lighter at the thought of her being nearby while I sleep. Nothing’s changed, and nothing’s been fixed between us, but this still feels… better, somehow.
“No promises,” I tease.
I know I’ll do my best anyway. I’ll always do anything she tells me.
JENNY
Iwake up to hotel blankets tangled around my legs, the threat of a headache lurking at my temples, and light blue paint on the wall in front of me. It has several stains of dubious origin, and I roll over onto my other side instead of thinking about it. As soon as my eyes adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the gaps in the curtains, I notice an overlarge form huddled on the couch.
I shoot up from the bed, frantically feeling for my clothes, eyes locked on Lucas’s head.
Memories from last night come rushing back, and I groan at the sudden onslaught. As if going on this impromptu trip wasn’t stressful enough, now I have to tear Lucas a new one over his treatment of Elias last night.
I debate stomping over to him and waking him up with a healthy dose of screaming, but I get a whiff of myself when I shift. My clothes reek of whiskey and sweat, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
Shower first, yell at Lucas second. I can let him have an extra twenty minutes of sleep as a thank you for not making me crash in the hallway after punching him.
I stumble into the bathroom and tear the disposable toothbrush from its plastic packaging to brush the worst of the stale taste from my teeth. Lucas’s toothpaste does me plenty of good, but I’d give anything to gargle mouthwash for about half an hour. The hot water is fuckingmagicwhen I strip down and step into the shower. After most of a day spent in the truck, and then a night getting spun around by Elias on the dance floor, my entire body aches.
Surprisingly, my head isn’t killing me, and I’m not nauseous, even after drinking half the bar. Elias probably switched half my shots out for water, mother hen that he is. I’ll have to call him once I’m done chewing Lucas out to make sure his face is still in one piece.
I take a thorough shower, scrubbing dried sweat off my skin with the hotel body wash. It’s not until I get out and drape myself in a towel that I realize the fatal flaw in my plan.
This isn’t my room. I couldn’t get into my room last night. Which means that all I have to wear are my filthy clothes from last night until I can get back into my room. I hate the thought of it, but it’s better than nothing, so I steel myself at the thought. And then I see them, nudged in a pile by the toilet, soaking wet.
Fuck.
I was too desperate to shower to make sure I closed the curtain entirely, and now they’re nothing but a pile of sodden fabric. There goes that plan.
Which means I have to walk out into the room,where Lucas is, in nothing but a towel.
Double fuck.
With any luck, he’ll still be asleep, and I can snag a bathrobe or something to make the trip down to the lobby and get back into my room. It’ll be fine.
It’s not fine.
When I step out of the bathroom, towel clutched tight around my body, Lucas is very obviously awake. He’s sitting up on the couch, shoulders tense, haloed by the weak sunlight. His hair is rumpled, blond strands in a messy waterfall across the tops of his shoulders, and I can make out the slightest marks on his cheek from sleeping on his balled up sweatshirt.
