“I am. Or at least I better be, since I’m about to check us into one room.”
Then it hits me, what the guy at the front desk is going to see. Bradley and I aren’t holding hands. We’re not giving off couple energy. For all he knows, I’m some stressed-out dad dragging my college-age son on a bonding weekend because therapy was too expensive.
“Unless he thinks you’re my son,” I mutter.
Bradley snorts. “Oh God, yeah. I can see it now. He’s probably back there trying to decide if we’re here for a grief retreat or one of those weird trust-building seminars.”
“Or worse. Maybe he thinks I’m your sugar daddy.”
He gasps, hand to chest. “As if I would ever let you dress like that if you were.”
We step inside the hotel, the cool air hitting us head on, a welcome relief to the scorching heat outside.
“I’m going to step over to the side if that’s okay. I need to answer a couple of my messages that came in while I was asleep.So you’ll get a reprieve from acting like an overzealous lover at check in.” He stops mid sentence before winking at me with a devilish intent. “This time.”
I just shake my head at him, not sure how to answer. Honestly, while I’d love to go ahead and get a head start on becoming comfortable with open affection, I’m glad he’s not pushing it just yet.
“Hello sir. How can I help you?” the older man with graying hair and a receding hairline asks.
“Checking in. Reservation is under Malcolm Knight.” I go ahead and hand out the card I booked the reservation under.
“Thank you,” he says as he takes the card from me and runs it through the scanner. “Ah yes, I have you here. King size room with a city view.”
“King size? There’s two beds, right?” I just want to make sure I’m hearing him correctly. I don’t remember seeing a room with two king size beds when I booked the hotel.
“No sir, the reservation is for one bed. King size. For two nights,” he states matter-of-factly, and if I wasn’t a cool and collected person, I’d be reaching across the counter and grabbing him by the shirt.
“There must be some mistake. I need two beds. Can you move us to a room that has that?” Then just to prove I’m a bigger person, I add, “Please.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we are hosting a convention this weekend and all our rooms are booked. It’s this or you will need to go to another hotel.” He stands there holding my card up in the air, lips pursed, face scowling.
I turn, looking over to where Bradley’s standing, his head turned down as his fingers tap at the screen on his phone. Would he care? We’ve kissed. Would it be such a big deal to sleep in the same bed?
“Sir?” The man clears his throat waiting for my response. “Do you need to step to the side to think about it?”
Fuck it. Bradley’s a good guy; he'll understand the mix up and have a good laugh about it.
“I’ll take it.”
“Very good, sir.”
The man, Sampson according to his name tag, begins the check-in process, handing my card and room key to me once he’s done. He says some other things, but I tune them out as I feel Bradley stepping up beside me, his arm resting on the counter as he brushes his shoulder against mine.
“We good, baby?” he asks, and I can feel my face heating up. When I glance at Sampson, he’s not acting shocked in any way. It’s as if this is a common occurrence. Which, I’m sure it is. Just not for me.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak and Bradley laughs. “Ready?”
We both turn and head to the elevator and I know I need to tell him the room situation. I reach out, pushing the button, rocking back and forth on my heels.
“Umm.” Shit, what do I say?Hey, we’re going to be shacking up in the same bed.Maybe I should’ve asked him if he wanted to go to another hotel first before paying for the room.
“What?” he asks as the elevator doors slide open and we step inside. Another couple joins us, and I step back against the wall, easing my way into the corner. I can’t tell him, not with other people in here.
“Malcolm, what floor?” he asks.
“Oh, ten.” The man in front of me reaches forward, pressing the button. The metal box gives a gentle sway as it begins its upward movement. As the polished metal walls reflect our images staring back at us, up we go, the floor numbers flickering above as we do.
The elevator slows, the upward momentum easing into a smooth glide. When the motor winds down, a light jolt and bounce announces our arrival at the third floor. The panel above the door pings and the number glows. With a faint click, the doors begin to part, and the couple steps off, not even taking a second look back at us, as the doors close again.
