“Are you hungry?” I look at the time; it’s just past seven.
“Yes,” she replies. “Are you?”
I laugh quietly. “Yes, Athena, I am starving.” The slow drawl of my voice has her cheeks turning pink.
“I don’t want to keep you up late,” she whispers and I inhale heavily.
“I’m a big boy, it’s fine.” Reluctantly I step back, walking for the phone. “Do you eat everything?” I call over my shoulder as I hover my finger over the phone to dial.
“Yup,” she shouts back, lowering herself back on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other as she places her work bits next to her.
“Cool,” I mutter to myself as I dial down and place an order for room service.
The sound of a mobile ringing catches me off guard just as I cut the hotel phone off.
“Sorry, it’s my friend. I’ll speak to her later.” She taps the screen of her phone.
“Doesn’t bother me, answer it.” I shrug and she looks at me for a second longer than she intended before pressing the green icon.
“Hey.” The phone is to her ear.
I busy myself, pacing the floor not wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation. I move to the bedroom and slip into the bathroom as I clean up. I had already showered but I need to keep myself occupied for a few minutes.
“Royce?” Her voice floats through the open planned space and I pad back out to her.
“All okay?”
“Yeah, fine, just trying to work out what race she is going to head out for.”
“I see, is she staying with you?” I ask, lowering myself back into the armchair opposite.
“Think so, that’s what Nora said anyway.” She shrugs.
“Sounds good.”
I have no idea why that has rattled me slightly. The thought of not being near her whenever I want made me bristle. Now, I’ll have to contend with her friend. Bitterness stirs in my stomach, but I ignore it.
“So,” she asks me, “what would you like to know?”
Everything.
“Birthday?” My index finger rubs against my bottom lip as I burn my gaze into her.
“Twenty-second of November.” She smiles.
“Sagittarius.” My heart races.Twenty-two,my race number.
“Yes.” She smiles. “You’re into astrology?”
“Sort of, I know a few bits.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Twenty-second of August.”
“Leo,” she chimes, her dimples teasing me.
“That’s a good match.”
