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I’ve been assigned room 3124 on the third floor. I head up, glancing at the numbers as I pass them in the hall. 3075, 3076 ... 3118, 3119. When I finally near my room, I see the door across the hall is propped open.
Cole is inside, placing a few folded shirts into the top drawer.
He doesn’t see me, so I pretend I don’t see him.
I scan my key card quickly and hurry inside my room, only to be confronted by a strange scent that I can’t immediately place. But that’s suddenly the least concerning thing about this room.
My roommate is already here. In fact, she’s hard at work tugging the king-size mattress onto the floor. Maddox, Cole’s supposed roommate,is draping the sheets from the bed over the lamps to dim them to a sultry glow.
“What is this?” I ask, concerned I walked onto the set of a porno.
That’s what it smells like, by the way ... sex.
Desiree and Maddox aren’t even fazed when they look up and find me surveying the scene. Never mind that Desiree is clad in revealing lingerie and Maddox is only wearing a pair of tight red boxer briefs. Is that ... I lean in, eyes narrowing. Is that a little dog collar around his neck?
“It’s our love den. We’re all about to die, so there’s no point in hiding our relationship anymore.” Maddox nods in agreement, sidles up to Desiree, and pinches her playfully on the butt.
I blink several times as my overloaded brain unpacks the information.
“Okay, well, good for you, I think? But where am I supposed to sleep?”
Desiree takes my shoulders and ushers me out of the room. “You’re going to have to find another room, sweetie. Byeee.”
Fine. Who am I to stand in the way of ... whatever the hell that was?
Out in the hall, I’m relieved to find Cole’s door closed now. He’s probably in there, pleased as punch. His roommate has abandoned him to set up shop across the hall, and now he’s sitting pretty all by himself. Too bad Maddox and Desiree didn’t tearhisroom apart instead of mine. I can only imagine the look on Cole’s face if he were the one to walk in on that. I’d pay good money to see it. A week’s wages, easy.
Out in the hall, I formulate a plan B rather quickly. It’s genius, really. It takes some asking around, but I eventually learn that Blaze has been assigned room 5011. Perfect. He’ll find me on his doorstep, all alone like a baby bird who’s fallen out of her nest. Men love playing the hero, and what better way for him and me to really get this relationship going than to spend the night together? Watch out, Maddox and Desiree, we might be creating a little love den of our own.
Up on the fifth floor, I knock on room 5011 and then fix my hair, adjust my top, try on a smile, then decide it’s too chipper. Instead, I opt for pleading innocence.
The door opens to two men’s laughter.
Oh, what’s the joke? I love jokes!
It’s Blaze who answers the door, and he looks surprised to see me.
“Paula?”
The edges of my vision start to get fuzzy and black.
Paula, he calls me. PAULA. We shared mashed potatoes and steak and an evening of conversation (albeit stilted), and he still thinks my name is Paula?!
“Paige,” I say, somewhat rudely. “My name isPaige.”
He laughs this off and thunks himself on the forehead. “Duh, yes. Paige. What’s up?”
He sees my duffel bag resting at my feet and then takes a step closer to the hallway, closing the door tighter as if to say,You weren’t planning on coming in here, were you?
“Who’s at the door, sweetie?” a man calls from deeper inside the hotel room.
Sweetieis a common enough nickname among guy friends, right?
Sweetie,honey,you sexy thing, you—I think they call each other this stuff all the time.
It’s cool that Blaze is so confident in his masculinity. No fragile male egos here! Harry Styles would be proud.
Blaze turns to reply. “It’s Paige!”
