“Gina, Owen,” the guy nods as he says our names. “I’m Ned, the manager here. Do you need a room?” He blinks from me to Gina before turning to his desktop, lightly hitting his head with his hand. “Of course, you do. Why else would you be here? What I should say is how many nights?”
“Just tonight,” Gigi answers. “The bridge is out, so we can’t get back to LA.”
“Yeah,” he laughs softly. “We haven’t had this many guests since they built the freeway. I-I wasn’t around then, of course” he quickly explains. “It’s just what I’ve heard my mother say.”
My hand is on Gigi’s upper arm, and I give it a gentle squeeze, pulling her closer so I can whisper in her ear. “We are going to be stabbed to death in our shower.”
Her shoulder rises, and she exhales a little noise beforesmiling at the skinny Norman-Bates lookalike. “Do you need a credit card?”
“Yes, please, and an ID if you don’t mind.”
I hand over my credit card, and after taking all our information, Ned leads us down the row of doors to one that’s labeled twenty-one.
“Lucky number.” He smiles, stopping and turning to us.
“Really?” Gina’s eyes are wide. “How so?”
“Twenty-one is when all the fun begins.” He pauses a beat, then tilts his head, “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“You’re not twenty-one?” Surprise is in her tone.
“I’m twenty-two actually.” That’s all the explanation we get. “Here’s your key. I know it’s old-fashioned to have metal keys, but we like hanging onto some of the old ways.”
My hand is still on Gigi’s arm, and I squeeze it tighter.
“Thank you, Ned.” Her voice is strangled, and as soon as we get inside and close the door, she bursts out laughing. “He’sgotto be doing it on purpose. There’s no way he really says those things for real.”
“I don’t know.” I lean closer to the window, sliding the curtain back with my finger and watching him walk back to the office. “All I know is that door’s staying locked, and if he invites us for milk and sandwiches,run.”
Gigi goes to the picture on the wall and attempts to take it down. “Doesn’t move. I guess that’s a good thing?”
“I showered after practice, so I’m good for tonight.”
“I showered this morning, so I’m good.”
Turning, we look around the very plain, very small room. It seems clean, no weird smells, and the air conditioner at the window drones steadily, creating a nice white noise.
“This might be a problem.” Gigi nods at the one bed, which is smaller than a queen-size.
I look around the room to see it only has a desk, a chair, an armoire, a tiny sofa…loveseat?
“What do you think? Should I sleep on the floor?”
“No way!” She shakes her head frowning. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor when you’re in this whole situation because of me.”
“What are you saying then? Bathtub?”
“Owen.” She makes a face like I’m being ridiculous. “We’re both adults. We can sleep in the same bed for one night.”
She walks over to put her bags in the corner beside the desk, then she slides the long coat off her shoulders and drapes it over the chair. My eyes glide down the length of her ponytail to where it ends between her shoulder blades, drifting lower to her perky butt in those black pants.
I remember the sight of that butt peeking out at me from beneath her shirt the other night, and heat rushes to my cock.
“Don’t you agree?” She turns to face me, and I clear my throat, walking over to put my wallet and keys on the bedside table.
“Sure.” I nod, wanting to agree, while I’m not entirely sure.
C’mon, of course we can. We’re adults, not teenagers.
