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The LED display isn’t glowing, and I tap on it a few times. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Did the staff switch the heating system off before they left? Surely they were aware that Anson and I are still in the hotel. Why would they do that?
I don’t know much about heating systems and thermostats, so this is a little beyond my level of expertise. Maybe my thermostat is just busted. But I could have sworn I saw the display glowing when I entered my room earlier.
Or was I imagining it?
Geez, I don’t even know anymore.
Maybe I‘m subconsciously stressed out about the blizzard that’s on its way. Or because I know Anson and I are the only two people left at the hotel. If something happens, then he‘ll have to be the person I have to ask for help, or assistance, whatever it may be.
“No,” I mutter. “Nothing is going to happen. Everything is fine. Maybe it’s just my thermostat that’s busted. A loose wire or something.”
I bite my lip as the cold begins to creep up my spine. As much as I want to ignore it, I know what I have to do is inevitable, even if I don’t want to.
Truthfully, I would rather stick a fork in my eye than ask Anson Mallard for help. And since I threw away my plastic fork after I ate, that only leaves me with one option. I step into my slippers and leave my room, walking along the dimly lit hallway. I bite my lip as I feel a little unsettled.
“This is how people get murdered in a bad horror film. Luckily I’m not in one of them. I think,” I mutter to myself as scenes from Stephen King’s The Shining uninvitedly play through my head. God, I hope I don’t turn the corner and run into a pair of creepy twin children. Wasn’t it set in Colorado in the snow, in a hotel? Crap. I’m in Colorado in the snow, in a hotel. Wonderful.
Maybe there’s a pack of inbred mutant hillbillies hiding out in the mountains, waiting for the hotel to close so they can pillage a bunch of stuff.Geez, I’m freaking myself out.
“Get real, Kinsley. Your imagination is way too wild at this point. It’s just an empty hotel. Everything is fine. You’re fine.”
Yeah, I’m just trying to keep myself from freaking out. I’ve never stayed in an abandoned hotel before. Who’s to say Anson isn’t a psychopath who wants to murder me?
“You’re being fucking ridiculous, Kinsley,” I say to myself and shake my head.
I enter the ground-level hallway, and the light from inside one of the rooms clearly indicates which room is Anson’s.
I cross my arms as I draw in a few breaths, grumbling in disapproval. Pausing in front of his door, one-eleven, I purse my lips and raise my hand. I knock on the door and take a step back, hoping he’s not coming to the door wearing just a towel.
Then again, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. The thought of Anson with a towel wrapped around his hips, his skin still wet from a shower, and his hair disheveled, makes my heart pound in my chest. I can only imagine his muscular shoulders and arms that hide underneath his clothes. How his hands would feel on my shoulders, his mouth pressed onto mine. Then, the towel drops, followed by all my inhibitions. Oh, the things I’d let that man do to me.
My cheeks burn from things I shouldn’t be thinking about, and I clear my throat, knocking on his door again. I hear shuffling in the room, and I wonder if I did catch him at a bad time.
Oh, well. Shit happens.
Luckily, when the door opens, Anson is dressed in a long-sleeved dark grey hoodie and black sweatpants. Despite his casual attire, his hair is messy, and he’s looking even more delicious than I imagined. His brown eyes are warm and playful, bringing forth even more thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking of right now.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the sassy Ms. Butler. You want that tour after all?” he asks with a wink.
Fuck, I wish. If I didn’t hate his guts, maybe.
FOUR
~ Anson ~
Even though there’s no one else in the hotel tonight, the last person I expect to see at my door is Kinsley Butler. Did she change her mind and want the tour of my room after all?
“Ugh. Don’t be stupid,” she says with a disgusted scoff.
“What brings you to the ground floor? Isn’t it a little too low-class for you, being on the first floor and all?” I ask coyly.
“Oh, just shut up, and let me talk.”
My eyes quickly look her over. She’s dressed much more casually than the last time I saw her, in a pair of dark blue leggings and an oversized white sweater. Her hair hangs down her shoulders, and I didn’t realize just how long it was. Shorter pieces frame her face and a pair of fluffy slippers. I grin in amusement, but as soon as I look up at her, that grin disappears.
“Is your thermostat working?” she asks.
