28. Dylan
28
DYLAN
W e pull into the hotel around 1:45 in the morning, and I’m so tired that I’m delirious. I feel the exhaustion threatening to pull me down, and my legs feel like cinder blocks. Despite my short nap, I’m feeling the decision to drive deep in my bones.
I was in charge of the first half of the drive in spite of my resistance. I was always planning on driving, but I didn’t want Parker to drive the later shift. I’ve been a night owl for as long as I can remember, and there’s something about driving late at night that I’ve always found therapeutic.
Driving on vacant highways, not a car in sight, the stars and moon acting as the only illumination. It’s a reminder that we’re a part of something much bigger than our minds will ever be able to understand.
After living in the city for months, the late-night drive felt like returning to my roots in Woodland Heights, where I’d always take the family truck out late at night to clear my head–especially after losing my dad.
Parker refused, saying, and I quote, “Your safety is my top priority. I’d feel a lot better making that drive.” How was I supposed to argue when he was being so damn cute and protective? I’m just a girl, and I will never turn down chivalry.
I grab Parker’s bag and hand it to him before closing the trunk. Just the idea of rolling this bag the short distance from the parking lot into the lobby makes my knees nearly buckle. I need to be horizontal ASAP.
“Got everything?” I ask.
Parker is visually worn down, his typically bright eyes accompanied by dark bags. However, his signature grin is still plastered on his face, albeit a little weary.
“Yes. Let’s check in and get to bed already,” he begs.
I salute him in agreement, lock the car, and head into the hotel lobby. By the time we get our room keys and we’re on the elevator, I’m barely standing. I use the walls to help hold me up, though it doesn’t take much because my mind runs a mile a minute thinking about the last time we were in a confined space like this, and I suddenly feel a burst of energy cut through my fatigue.
My pulse pounds under my skin, and a buzzing current fills the air. It’s so electrically charged that I can practically taste it on my tongue. I stare at the ceiling, unable to make eye contact with him on the off chance that he’s also thinking back to our last elevator experience together.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby around 10?” I question.
“Why don’t we plan for 9:30. Give us enough time to find some coffee. I have a feeling we’re going to need it after today.”
I snort out a small giggle and nod as the elevator doors open. He goes to leave but turns to face me at the last second, holding onto the elevator frame to prevent the doors from crushing him.
“Thank you for driving with me. You were right. That drive would’ve been miserable without you. I’ll see you in the morning. Hope you sleep well,” he says groggily.
“Of course. Sleep well,” I reply sweetly, desperate to escape this metal death box. If I have to stay in here any longer, I think I may explode.
When the doors close, I let out a deep exhale, the room immediately feeling lighter now that I’m free from the sexual tension crushing me with its heavy foot. I just have to get through one more week, and then I can jump his bones the way I’ve been dreaming about since the release party.
I know that I’m the one who said I wanted to keep things professional, but my self-control is scarcely hanging on. We’ve been sharing hotel room walls for the past week, and it’s taken everything in me not to go next door to succumb to my needs. I can only imagine he’s heard me taking things into my own hands, thanks to the thinness.
The close proximity of the elevator ride up now has me wide awake, and I internally groan to myself, knowing damn well that I’m going to have to…let off some steam (again) before I can finally sleep for the night.
I get off the elevator and find my room. Once I enter, I place my stuff down, collapse into bed, and throw my arms over my face. Laying down in an uncomfortable hotel bed has never felt better. Rather than unpacking, I grab my laptop out of my backpack. I kickstart it and try to pull up the internet, but I realize the front desk receptionist never gave us the WiFi password.
As much as I want to go to sleep, I know that no matter how hard I try, I’m not going to be able to pass out without a movie on. Yes, I am one of those people who needs background noise to fall asleep. No, I don’t need to hear about how unhealthy of a habit it is.
I would watch something on the TV, except our rooms don’t have televisions. I curse the company for being so cheap.
I heave myself out of the bed, swiftly run downstairs, and find it written on a poorly printed, faded piece of paper. Thank god I don’t have to socialize with the new front desk receptionist, who has just started her shift and clearly has no interest in helping me, considering she doesn’t even glance in my direction as I approach the desk.
I return to my room, finally ready to unwind for the night. Except for when I go to unlock the door, the keypad flashes red. I sigh and try again. And again. And again. Only to be met with the same red lights acting as a blinking reminder that I’m so close to being in a bed, yet not close enough.
I drag myself back toward the elevator one last time. This is the last thing I need after spending my entire day pent up in the car with the love of my life who I can’t show my feelings for. Okay, I put those restrictions on myself, but that’s neither here nor there.
I press the button down to the lobby and slouch against the elevator walls. It’s going to be a while before I can get on one of these things again without thinking about the way that Parker guided me through the…experience.
When I get to the lobby, it’s still eerily quiet, though considering it’s the middle of the night when most sane humans are sleeping, this doesn’t come as a surprise. The unbothered front desk receptionist is still scrolling on her phone and barely glances up in my direction when I get to the desk.
I clear my throat, trying to get her attention without being too pushy. When she doesn’t look at me, I cough a little louder. This time, she peeks up, a distinct look of contempt on her face. It’s apparent she’s annoyed that I’m here. You and me both, honey.
“Can I help you?” she drones.
“Sorry to bother you. I came down a second ago to get the WiFi password, and when I went back up and tried to get into my room, my room key didn’t seem to be working.” I place it gently on the counter, giving her the softest smile I can muster. I’ve worked enough customer service roles to know I need her on my side to solve this as soon as possible.
She takes it off the counter without a word and scans it. Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, and I brace myself for the bad news I already know is on the way because that’s just how my luck seems to be swaying these days.
“The key is programmed correctly.”
She doesn’t continue, leaving me unable to articulate a single thought. At this point, I’m about to sleep on the dated, lumpy hotel lobby couch. I don’t have the energy to fight her, so I stand there silently, willing her to keep talking.
She eventually says, “It must be an issue with the door. We’re going to have to send a technician up there to take a look at it.”
I sag against the front desk in relief and press my palms to my eyes. Okay, it could be worse. Sure, it’s annoying that it will be a minute before I can climb into bed, but I’m just happy they can fix it.
“Unfortunately, maintenance is gone for the night, so you’ll have to wait until the morning.” She pops a bubble with her gum, and I grind my molars at the sound.
She’s entirely unfazed that I’m shit out of luck after one of the longest days of my life–not that she knows the hell I’ve been through. I don’t expect much, but some sympathy would be nice.
“Is there another room I can use for the night while I wait? I’d really love to get some sleep. I’ve been driving all day and just need a bed.” I plead. Maybe giving her a little back story will stir up the compassion that she must have–even if it is buried very, very deep.
She purses her lips, visually uninterested in my pleas. “No, I’m sorry. We’re completely booked up for the night.”
I’m seconds away from snapping, but I take a couple of deep breaths and remind myself to do some mental meditations. It’s not like it’s this–very uncooperative–girl’s fault that I can’t get into my room. My yelling at her will only make her even more unhelpful, so I wolf down the urge to lay into her. I need to be productive.
“Would you be able to call surrounding hotels to see if they have any availability?” I ask kindly.
“No, sorry. You’re more than welcome to, though.”
Without giving me another second, she looks back down to her phone, clearly scrolling through social media right in front of my face. I refuse to let some early twenty-something-year-old get to me.
I clench my fists, count to twenty, and then head back toward the elevator. I’m not about to spend hours calling nearby hotels, which leaves me only one option.
After a nerve-wracking elevator ride to the third floor, I silently rap on room 305’s door with a wince.
The door swings open seconds later to reveal a very disheveled Parker, wearing nothing but a plain white t-shirt and boxer briefs. I keep my eyes latched on his face, not trusting myself to look any further south. I just calmed down. I don’t need to be getting riled up when I have to share a room with him. That leads to poor decisions.
“Dylan?” He looks at me through squinted eyes.
Here goes nothing.