“My flight is at three,” he says, snuggling down into the pillow.
I turn and plug my phone into the charger, switching off the lamp before turning back and snuggling into him. For once, I’m the big spoon to his little spoon. I breathe in the scent of his hair and wonder how I got here.
I had almost given up on everything.
Then Christopher came along like the breaking of dawn, brightening the darkest of days.
“Thank you for saving me,” I whisper into his ear.
The soft exhale of his breath tells me that he’s already fallen asleep.
I roll back slightly, letting go so I can study him. I try to memorize every detail, the mole on his back, the curvature of his spine. The way his hair falls naturally to the left. I take a mental snapshot, wanting to remember this moment, before rolling back up against him.
“Thank you,” I say again, kissing the back of his head.
28.Christopher
Sunday
I’m startled awake by a soft grip on my arm shaking me back and forth, followed by a high-pitched feminine voice.
“Excuse me, sir.”
“Stop messing with me!” I try to bat Alexander away before reaching up to remove the earbuds from my ears. My head is pounding, and I’m not in any mood for his humor at this godforsaken hour as I try to pry open my eyelids.
Surely it can’t be time to get up already?
“Check out was half an hour ago, sir.” The voice is louder now, and a shadow moves in front of my face as my eyes start to focus.
My heart jumps into my throat when I see not Alexander, but a woman from housekeeping, standing beside the bed.
“What time is it?” My words trip over each other as I jolt upright.
I immediately regret the motion as a surge of bile rises with it.
“Twelve-thirty, sir.” Her arms are now crossed, her fingers tapping on her arm.
I swallow the bile down, and fling my legs out of the bed to stand upright. I immediately grab the duvet to cover myself when I realize I’m completely naked. The woman diverts her gaze to the windows, the curtains still drawn.
Fuck.
Think Christopher, think.
Pack.
Taxi.
Run to check in.
Some of Alexander’s clothes are still scattered across the floor, including the white T-shirt he wore when I was dancing with him last night. Or did I just dream that?
Come to think of it, where is he?
“Alex?” I shout, heading into the bathroom, but there’s no one inside. His toiletries are gone. A rising sense of dread heats my body. I glance into the walk-in wardrobe, but his suitcases and clothes are all gone too.
“Alex?” I shout, moving into the lounge.
“There’s no one else here, sir,” the woman calls out to me.
