...doesn't run away.
Yes, that's it. If I don't ensure that she regains her composure, I might lose sight of her. That would be bad for the article I'm writing.
I leave both my suitcase and camera bag in the small room behind the reception and take the elevator to the fifth floor. A few minutes later, I stand in front of the door marked 505.
A deep breath. Leaning casually against the doorframe. Smiling.
Only when I feel ready do I knock on the door.
Nothing stirs.
I knock again, louder this time, and then listen to the silence. Light footsteps move toward the door, which opens just a crack a fraction of a second later.
"Thank you, I don't need…" Sky stops mid-sentence. Her hair is wild, with strands sticking damply to her forehead. She's wearing only a low-cut shirt with spaghetti straps and the tight jeans she had on earlier.
Her puffy, hollow eyes appear vacant.
I raise my hand in a nonchalant greeting. "Hej."
"Is there a problem?" She pushes her entire left side behind the door, drawing it as close to herself as if she wanted to hold it.
Something in me wants to ease her tension. "No," I quickly reply, without cheekily pointing out that she just asked me a question. "I just thought you might be hungry, and we could have a meal together..."
"Not necessary." Her breath suddenly becomes so shallow, as if I suggested we jump out of an airplane tied together.
"Pizza, pasta, dolce—you can't pass that up in Bella Italia." She should eat something; after all, I haven't seen her eat all day.
She shakes her head, but her growling stomach is impossible to ignore.
She would like to eat. Just not with me.
That oddly stings in a bitter way. Disappointment surges in me, weighing heavily on my chest.
"Understood." It was supposed to sound casual, but even I can hear the melancholy in my voice.
What's wrong with me?
It doesn't matter. I can find other ways to stay close to her, and I'll gather enough material for my article in the coming days.
Shaking my head, I turn away. "Until tomorrow."
"Until tomorrow," she mutters tensely.
I start walking. I should have heard the door close behind me by now, but there's no sound.
Is she watching me leave? I wonder what's going on in her head right now. Did she realize this time, unlike back inPolarnatt, that she hurt me?
No, hurt is the wrong word. She pushed me away.
"Wait."
Was that Sky's voice? Whose hand is it that briefly touches my shoulder?
I turn around.
"So..." Her bare arms hidden behind her back, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "Pizza, pasta, and dolce, you said?" she asks with an expression I can't quite place.
Confused, I run my hands through my hair. "You said you weren't hungry."
There it is again, her mischievous grin. Barely visible behind the sad expression, but it's there. A comeback is imminent. "I never claimed that."
Didn't she?
"I said we didn't need to have a meal together." She raises the index finger of her right hand in a teacher-like manner. "Give me fifteen minutes."
Either she doesn't notice my pondering or she's skillfully ignoring it. "Okay," I reply, lost in thought.
She turns on her heel and walks back to her suite, her hair billowing behind her. I watch her go, and suddenly, even more questions flood my mind than before.
