“These kids will be the death of me this week,” Malcolm mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can uncover your ears now.”
My ears?
My hands are still splayed against my face, the memory of Malcolm’s hands holding them firmly in place. I chuckle, flexing and twisting my hand, before stepping off the bus.
As we pile off the bus, we embody a group of chaotic toddlers barreling toward the double glass doors of the hotel. Based on their squeals, points, and touching of everything, you’d think these kids had never been out in public before. I have to do my best to be the adult in the group and not react like the rest of them, forcing myself to not get distracted by the lush, green palm trees that line the cobblestone walkway. Or the trickle of white sand tracked in by the other guests. Or the salty air whipping my curls across my face as we make our way inside to the hotel lobby. Or the fancy man in a fancy uniform, taking our bags like we’re royalty.
A shiver of giddy excitement rolls up my arms, and I have to shake them out as I approach reception.
“Welcome to the Regency at Palm Beach!” The tall man standing behind the counter forces a smile at the group of teenagers hovering in front of his desk. “You all must be here for the Collegiate Scouting Camp, I presume.” The group starts talking over each other in response, invading Mr. Front Desk’s space even more, if that is possible.
“Alright, alright. You’re embarrassing us. Sit over there and chill out.” Malcolm rescues the poor front desk clerk. “Glendale High School, checking in.” He leans his arms on the desk, rolling his neck and cracking his back.
The apple bobs again.
“Here you are. Thirteen athlete passes, two coach passes, and three rooms.”
“Wait, what?” My gaze rips away from Malcolm’s neck as I laser focus on Mr. Front Desk. “That can’t be right. We reserved four rooms.”
“Yes, four rooms. Two athlete suites and two coach rooms,” Malcolm growls irritably. The noise is almost palpable—if a growl could be palpable, anyway.
“Oh dear, let me have a looksie.” Mr. Front Desk’s fingers fly across the keyboard, and a small bead of sweat builds on his temple as Malcolm and I watch him. “Well, it looks like a, uh, Mr. Bill Cummings reserved only three rooms.”
“Freaking Bill,” I groan. We left it up to the janitor-turned-assistant-coach to make reservations. Rookie mistake. “Could we reserve a fourth room, then?”
“I’m so sorry, but we’re fully booked for the week.” Mr. Front Desk’s eyes go from solemn to sheer terror as I stare at him. You know those moments in cartoons where someone is so angry they have steam coming out of their ears? If that could actually happen in real life, I have no doubt it would be happening right now, steam and flames blasting out of my ears as I stare downthis man. “I–I’m so sorry.” He fidgets behind the counter, voice practically quaking. “We could put you on a waitlist.”
“That’s alright. We’ll manage. Thanks, Jeremy.” Malcolm takes the room keys and camp passes fromJeremy. A ripple of shock moves up my spine from the hand he’s placed on my lower back as he steers me away from the desk. “If you stared at him any longer, Stanley, he would have burst into flames.” His beard tickles my ear as he whispers, “He’s innocent in all this.”
“Well, Bill isn’t here for me to blame, so Jeremy it is. How are we going to manage with onlythreerooms?” I grumble in a whisper. My heart is beating out of my chest as we approach our group gathered in the lobby. And I don’t know if it’s the Florida heat or the thought of sharing a room with Malcolm, but something is happening inside me—something I can’t quite pinpoint—and my face and neck feel like they’re on fire.
“Is the thought of sharing a room with me getting you all hot and bothered?” Malcolm chuckles.
“What? No. What makes you say that?” I heave a breath, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen and failing.What is with the air in this place?
“You’re beet red.” He faces me, crossing his arms over his chest. Gosh, what a chest. It’s aman’schest. Which yes, Malcolm is clearly a man. But why is his chest so…interesting all of a sudden? Why isMalcolmall of a sudden so interesting? “And fanning yourself with your room key.” He eyes the tiny plastic card I’m waving back and forth between us.
“I— It’s— Florida is sweltering, alright?Iam sweltering. This entire lobby is sweltering!” My words come out louder than I intend as I flail my arms out to the sides. Eyes bug out at me from our group, and Malcolm does the thing where he pretends to smooth out his beard, but really he’s just suppressing a cackle, before handing out room keys.
“You good, Ms. Stanley?” Devon asks, already unconvinced with whatever response I will conjure up.
Instead of words, I wave my hand and bow. Because that’s a clear indication that I’mgood.Totally good. All is chill in the world, and I am not bothered in the slightest about the room mishap or the inconvenience it poses. I amchill.
“Alright. Guys, you’ll be in suite 416, and ladies, you’ll be in 428.”
“We get suites? Dude, yes!” Travis is elated as he holds up a hand for Malcolm to high-five. It’s denied.
“Suites are just a cool way to say pull-out sofa,dude.” Garrett pats Travis on the shoulders as a sign of support for the devastating reality. Travis is unfazed as he giddily skips to the elevators.
“Coaches rooms are between you guys, so no funny business. I’m looking at you, Jess. Save the pranks for at home.” Malcolm lets his military tone seep through his words, and Jess nods erratically.Sir, yes, sir.
Up on the fourth floor, we accompany the kids to their rooms, waiting as the girls get settled into theirs and head toward the guys’ room.
“You know I’m not going to stay in the room with you, right?” Malcolm follows me closely down the hall as we approach the suites.
“Where are you going to sleep, then?” I ask, feeling a twinge guilty at his chivalry. Of course he’s already come up with a plan to make sure I’m comfortable. He’s probably already made other arrangements within the fifty steps we’ve taken from the front desk.
“With them.” Malcolm winces as Charlie knocks over a hallway table, Devon swiftly catching the lamp that nearly shattered on the ground. “On the floor.”
