Levi #2
Her short legs work double time to match my pace, and I slow down so she doesn't have to run to keep up. She’s small, standing more than a few inches shorter than my six-foot-one frame, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulders.
I usher her through the door and into the front office, approaching the counter and asking the young college guy, Adam, for one room.
He glances nervously between myself and the girl, and I can read the surprise and confusion in his eyes at seeing me in here with someone.
I don’t blame him. It’s not my typical scene.
The guys sometimes rent the rooms in the motel out for the occasional hookup after the bar, opting for convenience rather than driving home drunk and having to get rid of the woman in the morning.
This way, they can slip out unnoticed and drive themselves home, the women still passed out from the night of drinking and mediocre sex.
However, despite the many nights I’ve spent out at the bar during my younger years, getting so wasted I couldn’t even see straight, I’d never once felt the urge to take a woman here.
Sure, I’d taken women home before, had the occasional hookup here and there, but for whatever reason, I always ended up coming out the other end of the encounter less than satisfied and feeling dirty as hell.
Not to say there’s anything wrong with an easy hookup, but I learned a while ago that it’s not for me.
I like the buildup and anticipation of dating a woman before getting her into bed.
If there’s anything my mother taught me, it was to treat women with kindness and respect.
Lord knows there’s too much shittiness going on in the world to add to it.
“I’m not staying,” I say quickly, and the apprehension leaves his eyes as I reach into the back pocket of my jeans for my wallet.
A small hand wraps around my wrist, and I look down at Oakley, confusion etched between my eyes.
“I have money,” she says quietly, but I’m already shaking my head at her.
“No way. We’ve already established it’s my fault you missed your appointment. Let me make it up to you.” I hand my card over to Adam, and he takes it eagerly, clearly itching to get back to whatever the hell he’d been doing on his phone when we walked in.
“You’ve done more than enough,” she replies, but she doesn’t fight me any further on the matter.
I take the key from the kid and steer Oakley towards the door with a hand on the small of her back.
The guided direction is unnecessary, but a part of me likes touching her, even in a simply platonic way.
I guess that as long as she doesn’t tell me to go fuck myself or flinch away from my touch, I’ll take advantage of the simple pleasure.
We exit the office into the cool night breeze, and I walk her towards the back of the motel.
We walk quietly until I stop her to stand in front of a weathered door that looks like it used to be white but is now much closer to a dusty brown.
A metal number four dangles upside down from one solitary rusted screw.
“Well, this looks cozy.”
I grimace slightly at her words from beside me. Her eyes dart up to mine, immediately apologetic and a little embarrassed, as if she realizes how harsh her words sound.
I don’t blame her though. She’s right. This place is a piece of shit.
Honestly, if it wouldn’t be entirely too forward, considering I just met the girl tonight, I’d invite her to stay with me in my spare room.
However, something tells me that offer might spook her enough to steer clear of me for good.
I clear my throat. “I’m sure it will be okay for one night until you settle into your new apartment.”
She nods absently, watching as I slip the key into the lock and turn the knob, pushing the door open and gesturing her inside.
“It’s perfect. Thank you. I’m so exhausted.”
She steps over the threshold and drops her bag beside the door. I don’t make any move to follow her into the room, but from over her shoulder, I take note of the typical worn wood furniture that looks like it was never nice, even when it was brand new, God knows how many years ago.
A dark green, maroon, and gold patterned bedspread stretches over a thin mattress topped with two flat-as-paper pillows dressed in matching cases. An outdated box TV sits on the dresser directly across from the bed, a thin layer of dust visible over the dark screen even from where I stand.
My teeth clench, my body seeming to emit a visceral reaction at the thought of her staying here for the night.
By the look of the dismal room before me, locked in the echoes of the past, she would have been better off staying in her car on the side of the road.
I take a half step forward, ready to argue with her that she shouldn’t stay here, when she swings around to face me.
The dim light from the bedside lamp casts a yellow glow over one side of her face and highlights the dark circles under her eyes.
“Oakley, I—”
“I’ll be fine. Really. I’ve stayed in worse places, and it's not like there’s anywhere else for me to go tonight.”
I want to argue with her that she’s wrong. That I would happily let her stay in my spare room tonight if it means that she’ll be more comfortable, but she continues, not giving me a second to respond.
“Thank you for everything, Levi. Truly. I really appreciate it. It’s been a while since someone has shown me even a fraction of the kindness you have tonight.”
Something in my heart splinters at her words, my mind reeling with the notion that anyone could be anything but kind and gentle with the woman standing before me.
It stirs something in my chest, a fierce need to protect her, to keep her safe, and I inwardly curse myself for my bleeding heart.
I know nothing about this woman, and here I am, ready to defend her against whatever she seems to be running from.
I refuse to examine that too closely and what it says about me.
“Alright then. I can take you to your car tomorrow morning if you’d like.
” I’m not ready to say goodnight yet, but I know I should leave her to rest and unwind from the day.
Exhaustion slumps her shoulders, and I let my gaze wander the length of her body, curiosity getting the better of me as I wonder for the hundredth time tonight what her story is.
Maybe it’s selfish of me to offer to help her get her car back tomorrow, but if it means that I’ll get to spend a little more time with the woman whose every word and expression has me questioning my own sanity, then so be it.
Color me curious.
She nods and agrees, either too desperate or too exhausted to fight me on my hospitality like I know she wants to, but I’ll take it as a win. If she truly felt like she couldn’t trust me, I have no doubt she would have politely but firmly declined my offer.
“Try and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Stifling a yawn, she nods again, and without another word, closes the door.
I linger on the doorstep and run a hand through my ragged hair, my eyes fixed on the upside-down number swinging from side to side.
My ears strain to hear any indication of movement from the other side, but no sound greets me.
Either the bass pounding through the blown-out speakers of the bar next door is too loud, or she’s lingering on the other side of the door too. Is she waiting for me to leave?
Maybe she’s as curious about me as I am about her. Or maybe I’m being ridiculous and allowing the kind words and gentle laughter from a random girl get the better of me. Either way, I’ll take what I can get.
After all, it’s been a long, long time since anything caused the stone muscle sitting heavy in my chest to stir to life with the tiniest spark of a flame.