Holy shit.
It's huge. Like, actually huge.
Bigger-than-my-Canadian-apartment huge.
Everything shines. The floor is so polished I'm scared to step on it.
I laugh a little. Okay, a lot.
Because this is like a movie set view. It's exactly the kind of glass rich people lean on while they drink whiskey and talk about stocks and serious stuff.
The lights are warm, the furniture looks expensive as hell, every little detail is screaming one thing. Money.
I can't believe we're actually staying here.
It all looks so perfect and expensive that for a second I feel like someone's going to walk in, look me up and down, and say, "Sorry, sir, you don't belong here."
And I’d be able to say, "Well, this hotel is actually mine."
Because it is.
There's a big double bed against the wall, and just beside it, a single one.
Naturally, I assume the double's for Gio and Lorenzo, since they're family, so I move toward the single to drop my bag.
"España, baby! WOOHOO!" Lorenzo shouts, spinning once like a lunatic before throwing himself onto the single bed with a dramatic fall, like he's claiming territory.
No.
No, absolutely not.
There is no way I'm just casually sharing a bed with him. I will die and haunt this beautiful hotel room.
I keep staring at Gio.
He'll say something. He has to.
He can't seriously let his dumbass cousin leave us with one bed.
"Don't even think about it," Lorenzo says, kicking off his shoes. "I'm not sleeping next to Gio. The guy spreads out like a damn starfish. Last time I woke up with his elbow in my ribs. I'd rather sleep in the hallway."
My mouth opens slightly.
"I... I don't want to sleep next to Gio either."
Gio snorts without even turning. "Nobody's begging you to."
Lorenzo stretches, totally unbothered.
"Well, you're out of luck. You were too slow. This bed's mine now."
I glance back at the double bed, then at Gio.
One bed.
One option.
Gio finally looks at me. "Guess we're stuck."
