Chapter 81 Room Service (Part 1)
Chapter 81 Room Service (Part 1)
Shannon
By the time we wandered back across the parking lot, the little motel somehow looked even smaller than it had an hour earlier.
The neon VACANCY sign buzzed lazily above the office, occasionally flickering just enough to make me wonder if it might give up entirely before morning. A handful of pickup trucks sat scattered throughout the parking lot, and somewhere off in the distance a train whistle drifted through the warm evening air.
It wasn’t exactly where I’d expected to spend my Saturday night.
Then again…
This entire day had stopped asking for my opinion several hours ago.
James stretched dramatically as we climbed the sidewalk.
“I’m showering.”
Annabelle smiled.
“I figured.”
“And then I’m sleeping.”
“You’ve said that three times.”
“I’m manifesting it.”
Blake chuckled.
“I don’t think that’s how manifesting works.”
“It does if I believe hard enough.”
We reached our rooms.
James slid the keycard through the lock before holding the door open for Blake.
“Ladies first.”
Blake looked at him.
“…You’re hilarious.”
“I know.”
He disappeared inside.
Annabelle unlocked our room beside theirs and stepped inside first.
The motel room looked exactly how I imagined every roadside motel room in America looked.
One queen-sized bed.
One small dresser.
A television that probably remembered the invention of cable.
The comforter had some sort of floral pattern that had clearly been fashionable twenty years ago, and the air conditioner beneath the window rattled loudly enough that I briefly wondered if it was trying to escape the wall.
“It has… character,” I decided.
Annabelle looked around.
“It has a bed.”
“Fair.”
“And honestly?”
She dropped her bag beside the dresser.
“After sitting in that car for an hour and a half, I’d probably sleep on the floor.”
I laughed.
“I call the shower first.”
She waved dismissively.
“Go for it.”
I grabbed my bag.
“You sure?”
She nodded toward the adjoining wall separating us from the guys.
“I’m gonna go see what those idiots are doing for a few.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“They’ve been alone for like… fifteen minutes.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled.
“I should probably go rescue Blake.”
That made me laugh.
“Poor Blake.”
“I know.”
She headed for the door.
“Just text me when you’re done.”
“I will.”
“And don’t lock me out.”
“I’ll try.”
She pointed dramatically.
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
A second later the door clicked shut behind her.
The room suddenly felt strangely quiet.
I stood there for a moment listening to the steady hum of the air conditioner before finally disappearing into the bathroom.
The hot water felt amazing.
After three hours in the car, another three sitting at a hockey game, then nearly two hours stranded on the side of the interstate, I hadn’t realized just how tired my muscles actually were until the hot spray hit my shoulders.
I closed my eyes.
Let myself simply stand there.
The entire day replayed itself piece by piece.
The game.
Blake almost fighting that guy.
Watching him smile at me through the glass before puck drop.
The blowout.
Squirrel food.
Thumb wars.
I smiled despite myself.
It had been…
Nice.
Unexpectedly nice.
For weeks I’d convinced myself the only way to fix things between Blake and me was distance.
Give him space.
Eventually he’d lose interest.
Eventually things would become normal again.
The problem was…
Normal had never come.
Instead I’d simply found myself missing him.
Missing our conversations.
Missing his ridiculous sense of humor.
Missing the way he somehow found something funny in almost everything.
I’d spent months telling myself I didn’t want to hurt him.
Only to realize I’d somehow managed to hurt both of us instead.
The realization settled heavily in my chest.
I shut the water off.
Wrapped myself in one of the motel towels.
Then immediately laughed.
The towel barely qualified as a towel.
More of an aggressively optimistic washcloth.
“Fantastic.”
Twenty minutes later I stepped back into the room wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts.
The room had already cooled considerably thanks to the ancient air conditioner working overtime beneath the window.
I dried my hair as best I could before pulling out my phone.
Me: I’m done 😊
I looked toward the vending machines I’d noticed outside earlier.
A cold drink actually sounded pretty good.
Grabbing my room key, I stepped back outside.
The evening had cooled noticeably while I’d been in the shower.
Crickets chirped somewhere beyond the parking lot.
A few insects circled beneath the motel lights.
The vending machine sat near the office humming quietly to itself.
I fed it a couple dollars.
Pressed the button for a bottle of lemonade.
Waited.
Nothing.
“…Come on.”
I pushed the button again.
The bottle rolled forward with a loud thunk.
“That’s more like it.”
As I bent down to grab it, movement near the front of the motel caught my attention.
Someone sat alone on the concrete steps leading up to the office.
Forearms resting on his knees.
Looking out toward the highway.
Blake.
For a second I simply watched him.
He looked… peaceful.
Not sad.
Not frustrated.
Just thoughtful.
The constant grin he usually wore around the house wasn’t there tonight.
Instead he simply watched headlights pass on the highway in comfortable silence.
I walked over before I could overthink it.
“What are you doing out here?”
He looked up.
A smile immediately appeared.
“There you are.”
The words came out so naturally that my stomach did a tiny, ridiculous flip.
“I thought Annabelle kidnapped you.”
I laughed.
“I was taking a shower.”
“Oh.”
He nodded.
“That makes more sense.”
I looked toward the closed door behind him.
“What about you?”
He shrugged.
“I figured James and Annabelle deserved a little privacy.”
I blinked.
“…So you volunteered for exile?”
He smiled.
“I’m a generous roommate.”
I laughed.
“That’s one way to put it.”
He leaned back on his hands.
“I considered wandering into the woods.”
“There are woods?”
“I don’t actually know.”
“You were just going to go exploring?”
“It seemed adventurous.”
“Or homicidal.”
“Fifty-fifty.”
I shook my head, smiling.
“You are ridiculous.”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
The comfortable silence settled again.
Neither of us seemed in any hurry to break it.
I looked back toward my room.
Then back at him.
A thought occurred to me so suddenly it escaped my mouth before I had a chance to second-guess it.
“You know…”
He looked over.
“You don’t have to sit out here.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“I don’t?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I held up my room key.
“Come hang out in my room until Annabelle gets back.”
He hesitated.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that I could tell he was genuinely considering whether it was a good idea.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not.”
“Are you sure?”
The question surprised me.
Months ago Blake wouldn’t have asked.
Months ago he would’ve already been halfway through the doorway making some smart comment.
Now…
He was waiting for my answer. Waiting for permission.
It hit me all over again just how seriously he’d taken my request.
He really had stopped pushing. He really had listened.
The realization made something ache quietly inside my chest.
I smiled.
“I’m sure.”
For just a second he looked almost… relieved.
Then he stood.
“Okay.”
He brushed imaginary dust off his jeans.
“But if Annabelle throws me out…”
“I’ll protect you.”
He grinned.
“I feel much safer already.”
Together we crossed the parking lot toward my room.
And somehow…
For the first time in weeks…
It didn’t feel awkward at all.