Untitled
My heartrate picks up when I see the email from Naomi with a subject line that simply says “Convention.” I open it quickly and begin to read, and my lips curl up into a smile.
A slot opened up after one of the fourth grade teachers from another school in our district had to cancel. It’s mine if I want it.
I lean back in my desk chair and stare at the wall as I consider the opportunity. It’s really short notice. The convention is in Los Angeles and starts on Friday night with a welcome mixer. Today is Wednesday. That gives me less than two days to prepare for it.
On the other hand, this convention is worth the trouble. I get to attend every other year, and last year was amazing. And this year, the keynote speaker is supposed to be even better. I really want to go.
There’s only one problem. The reason I go every other year is because Royal and I take turns attending. The convention only accepts one teacher per grade per school. I went last year, which means he’ll be there this year. All weekend long.
My shoulders drop as I huff out a sigh. My weekends are sacred to me because they’re my only reprieve from his annoying presence in my life. Do I really want to intentionally attend a convention where I’ll be stuck with him all weekend?
But then again, it’s a big convention in a huge hotel. If I put a little effort into it, I’m sure I could manage to avoid him. And I really want to go.
Making the decision, I sit forward and type out a reply to Naomi, thanking her for the opportunity and accepting. She must’ve been checking her email, because I get an immediate response telling me she’ll let the organizers know and that the hotel will switch the canceling teacher’s room into my name.
Checking the time, I realize I only have a few minutes before my students return from lunch, so I pull out my phone to text my group chat with the girls to let them know I’ll be out of town this weekend.
Me: I got a spot at the L.A. convention this weekend! I leave Friday and come back Sunday afternoon.
Joey: Oh, yay! I’m happy for you, Sis. I know you love going to that event.
Twila:
Raven: Wait. Isn’t Mr. Manning going to be there, too?
Me: Ugh. Don’t remind me. I think I can manage to stay away from him all weekend.
Raven: Maybe you shouldn’t.
Joey: Raven, leave her alone.
Raven: I’m just saying, she’s wanted him to dick her down for years, and now’s her chance.
Me: I ABSOLUTELY HAVE NOT WANTED THAT!
My thumbs jab at the screen as I type the message in all-caps to get my point across. What in the hell is Raven even talking about? Is she on drugs?
Raven: Obviously, she’s not ready to admit it to herself, yet.
Joey: Raven.
Raven: Josette.
Me: Both of you, stop. Nobody is dicking me down this weekend, especially not Royal Manning.
Twila: I mean, he is really fucking hot.
Me: I have to get back to work now. Talk to you assholes later.
I drop my phone into my desk drawer and shove it closed roughly. I don’t know what that was all about. Raven knows I can’t stand the man. Why would she say I want him to…?
No. Never going to happen.
Royal Manning is annoying, not hot. I squeeze my eyes closed at the thought as an image of Royal flashes through my mind, unbidden. Okay, fine. Objectively speaking, he’s an attractive man. I can admit that to myself , at least. But his personality ruins it.
I most certainly do not want him to “dick me down,” as Raven so crudely put it. Not now, not ever.
Most of the drive to Los Angeles was smooth and uneventful, but as soon as I got close to the city, its legendary traffic jammed me up for much longer than it should’ve taken. Royal left at lunch, having had time to secure a substitute teacher for the afternoon. I wasn’t able to do the same on such short notice––all of our district’s subs had been retained by teachers going to this thing––so here I am, rolling up to the hotel a mere hour before the welcome mixer is set to start.
As I walk into the lobby, I immediately spot Royal near a pop-up bar with a beer in his hand. He’s surrounded by a gaggle of women, all of them smiling with pink cheeks and bright eyes.
“Give me a break,” I mumble as I head for the check-in desk.
As if he somehow heard me, Royal’s head snaps in my direction. He grins and lifts his beer in greeting, and several of the women surrounding him shoot laser-hot gazes my way. I can’t stop my eyes from rolling dramatically. Royal’s head tilts back as he laughs, and I shake my head at him before turning away.
“Hello, how may I help you?” a woman in a black blazer asks as I approach the desk.
“Hi, I’m Calliope Barnes, and I’m checking in,” I say, pulling my license from my wallet and passing it over to her.
“Thank you,” she says, her fingers flying across the keyboard in front of her. She frowns at the screen before lifting her gaze to mine. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a reservation in your name.”
“Give me a second,” I say, pulling my phone out to check the email Naomi sent me. “I’m taking Shannon Forthright’s spot in the convention. Her room was supposed to be transferred into my name earlier this week.”
The woman taps at her keyboard for several moments, then nods. “I see the reservation was made, but Miss Forthright called and canceled it on Monday. No instructions were left to transfer it to you. I’m sorry, Miss Barnes, but the hotel is full, and I don’t have a room to give you.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, the words laced with hope and desperation.
“I’m so sorry,” she says with finality as she hands back my license, so I nod and turn away.
Heading for an empty couch in the lobby, I pull my rolling suitcase behind me, jerking it angrily when one of the wheels sticks. Great. This is just great.
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, I use my phone to search for nearby hotels. After a few calls, my mood plummets even further. Apparently, there are several large conventions happening this weekend, and every hotel in a five-mile radius is full to capacity. I can stay further out, of course, but that means adding travel time each day and paying for rideshares if I decide to drink at any of the nighttime events. And I’ll have to miss the welcome mixer tonight.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
My head snaps up to see Royal standing in front of me, his features twisted with concern. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. He’s going to have a field day with this, I’m sure.
“I don’t have a room,” I say glumly. “Naomi told me they’d transfer the reservation of the teacher I replaced to my name, but she actually called and canceled before the spot was even offered to me. I don’t know why no one told me so I could make other arrangements. And now, all the nearby hotels are sold out.”
Royal doesn’t say a word for several long beats, and there’s no sign of the gloating I’d expected on his face. He just looks thoughtful, then resigned. Moving forward, he perches on the edge of the couch next to me.
“Stay with me.”
“What?” pops out of my mouth as I stiffen and watch him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“You can stay in my room,” he says, his voice firm with resolve. “I have two queen beds, and there’s plenty of room.”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly, my mind swirling with thoughts of how I’d planned to stay as far away from Royal as possible this weekend.
“I know it’s not ideal,” he says, “but isn’t being my roommate better than booking a room at another hotel and having to travel back and forth?”
I narrow my gaze. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because I’m a really nice person,” he says, pressing his palm to his chest before grinning and taking a swig of the beer he’s still holding in his other hand.
I chuckle, and his smile softens. Pushing to his feet, he moves in front of me and holds out his empty hand. I stare at it for a few stilted seconds, then blow out a long breath before placing my own hand in it and allowing him to help me to my feet.
“Come on,” he says, releasing me to grab the handle of my suitcase and lifting it from the floor. “I don’t snore. I promise.”
“Fine,” I grumble, then my shoulders drop as relief floods through me. Meeting Royal’s gaze, I softly add, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, then his eyes light up with mischief. “Just make yourself scarce if you see a tie hanging from the doorknob, okay?”
“Okay. You know what? This isn’t going to––”
“Stop,” he says, his hand snaking out to clasp mine as I try to backpedal. “I was just kidding. Everything is going to be fine. I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.”