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“Your stuttering about Prince Charming was adorable,” he assured me, pulling my hands from my face, “especially since you were referring to me. Although, most princes aren’t as ruggedly handsome as I am,” he ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “You got lucky.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad you agree,” he smirked, rolling off of me.
“You’re something else,” I laughed, rolling onto my side and propping my head in my hand.
“Something spectacular,” he waggled his brows.
“Stop talking,” I mumbled, laying my head on his shoulder once more.
“I can do that.”
“Yeah, right,” I snorted.
He mimed zipping his lips.
My eyes grew heavy and surrounded by his body heat I found myself being lulled into a peaceful sleep.
My hand reached out, patting against the sheets as I searched for Trace. When my hand kept connecting with cool sheets I finally forced my eyes open. Early morning light filtered in through the flimsy hotel curtains. I peeked at the clock, groaning at the time. Six o’ clock was too early for me.
I sat up, holding the sheet over my chest, and looked around the room. Trace wasn’t anywhere to be found and there were no sounds coming from the small bathroom.
I slipped from the sheets and showered, changing into my clothes from yesterday since our bags were still in the car. I chose to forgo the tank top, opting to wear his plaid shirt open over my bra.
I had just sat down on the bed and was turning on the TV when the door opened. He came inside with our bags slung over his shoulders and two cups of coffee from Starbucks.
“My hero!” I exclaimed, reaching out with grabby hands for one of the cups of coffee.
“Cinnamon Dolce Latte,” he smirked, handing it to me.
I took a tentative sip of the liquid, fearing it might be a scalding temperature, but it was perfect.
“If I’m going to be up early,” I pointed at the clock, “I need my coffee.”
He shook his head, laughing under his breath at me. “Why do you hate mornings so much?”
“Because,” I drew my knees up to my chest, cradling the precious coffee close to me, “I like my sleep. You, on the other hand, seem to be fine with no sleep.”
He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never needed much sleep. Much to my mother’s dismay. I’m sure if you asked she’d tell you stories of how I used to keep her up all night as a baby.”
“I’m sure you were a very interesting child.”
“Is that your nice way of saying weird?” He questioned, his lips twitching into a smile.
“You are weird. But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
He frowned at his cup of coffee. “I hate these stupid cups they give you. Who wants to drink coffee with a lid? I want my Yoda mug.”
“Of course you do,” I laughed, scooting back in the bed so that I could rest against the headboard.
It may have been a Holiday Inn but the room was clean and didn’t smell. The walls were painted a buttery yellow with maroon carpet. The covers on the king-size bed were in a similar color palette and the pictures on the walls were the typical floral ones all hotels seemed to have.
“Yoda makes everything better,” he joked, sitting down beside me and stretching his long legs out. “Your mom tried to call me.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. I—uh—had turned my phone off yesterday after my mom called, so I didn’t see it until now.”
