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She never has the room next to mine, and it’s for a damn good reason. I don’t want her anywhere near me, and the feeling is most definitely mutual.
With her hand already on the doorknob, she pauses and turns toward me, her big blue eyes bright with irritation when her gaze meets mine. It looks like she’s considering flipping me off, but she won’t. She probably thinks something like that is below her. Too pedestrian for the proper little goody-two-shoes.
As she stares at me, her chest rises and falls on a deep breath, and then she raises her chin.
See? I knew she wouldn’t flip me the bird no matter how much she wants to.
Instead, her jaw tightens, but she shrugs. “If you have a problem with the room I’ve been given, take it up with hotel management. Until I’m told this isn’t my room, I’m just going to go ahead and assume you’re wrong and this is where I’m supposed to be.”
My nostrils flare, annoyance invading my bloodstream and rushing hot and heavy through my veins. “Why would I take it up with anyone? This is ayouproblem, not ameproblem. I know I’ve got the right room, but for some reason, you’ve been given the key to Maxim and Emma’s. Go downstairs and sort it out.”
She snorts. “Considering that you’re the one insisting I have the wrong room, this seems like ayouproblem to me. If you’re that ticked off about it, go downstairs and sort it out yourself. Maxim and Emma were at the reception desk with us, but they didn’t follow us to the elevator. You saw me getting in with you and carrying my bag over here. You were there for all of it, which means you could’ve brought this up before we even came upstairs. I’m not going back down when I’m already here with all my stuff.”
Pushing the door open, she moves to go inside but stops when I scoff.
“I swear to fuck, Olivia, if you go in there—”
She spins back to face me, one of her light eyebrows arching as she cuts me off. “If I go in there what? It’s my room, Vincent. Obviously, I’m going to go in there.”
“It’s Maxim’s fucking room,” I repeat. “You can’t go in there. If you start unpacking, then that’s it. We both know there’s been a mistake, but no one is going to make you move if you’ve already settled. Just move now and save us both a week of being stuck with each other.”
She shifts back on her feet, giving me a challenging glare that would be laughable if it didn’t mean she’s not going to give in. Honestly, I don’t know when she started thinking that challenging me is going to get her anywhere.
Olivia is like a mosquito as far as I’m concerned, tiny and irritating as fuck but not in the least bit scary. The chick looks like an innocent little girl scout with her huge blue eyes and wavy blond hair that’s always braided down the middle of her back. Seeing a challenge from her would’ve made me want to pat her on the head and tell her she’s cute, but it’s not cute that she thinks I may actually back down from her. It’s just fucking annoying.
Lifting her nose in the air like the snooty priss she is, she sniffs and shakes her head at me. “I have no problem with this room, but if it is a mistake, I’ll move just as soon as anyone with some actual authority tells me to. In the meantime, I think I’ll take your advice and go get settled.”
“It wasn’t advice, but you already knew that. Stupid doesn’t look good on you, Oliva. Stop pretending to be dumb and just go get your actual room number.”
“This is my actual room number.” She lifts the keycard in her hand as if she’s using it to prove her point. “You’re the one being a childish ass about it. So what if they’ve put us next to each other for one stop? Maxim’s not going to forget about you in a week. Relax. I’m sure he and Emma have already started unpacking in whichever room they’ve been assigned to. Soon enough, they’ll realize their obnoxious neighbor is missing and come to find you. You’ll still see them even if they’re not next to you. Calm down to a mild panic, Vincent. It’s all going to be okay.”
My eyes roll in response to her idiotic reasoning, but I swear if I was living in a cartoon, there would be steam coming out of my ears right about now. I’m usually a pretty easygoing guy, but this girl aggravates me more than anybody else.
And today, she seems to be everywhere.
She sat next to me on the private plane here this morning too. We didn’t talk on the flight, but her mere presence is enough to piss me off.
Just before she starts moving into the room again, I smirk and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Well, if you’re staying, I hope you sleep with earplugs in. I’m planning on making a lot of noise on my side of the wall, and I won’t be keeping it down on your account. Besides, I can’t help it that I make girls scream my name. I’m just that good.”
“You shouldn’t mistake screams of frustration for cries of pleasure,” she retorts without missing a beat. “I realize that frustrating people is your God-given talent, but really, Vincent. One would think you’d have learned to tell the difference between those two sounds by now.”
With that, she grins evilly and then fucking winks at me as she marches into my brother’s fucking room. I mean, fine, apparently it’s not this week, but it should’ve been. I hear the door slam behind her when I storm into my own room, and I realize then that the walls are paper thin. We really are going to be hearing everything the other is doing all week, and I’d rather stick needles into my eardrums than listen to her drone on and on about her boring life to my sister or one of the other girls.
More than that, it’s going to be awkward as fuck bringing girls back here knowing that sweet little Olivia is hearing every gasp and moan I coax out of them. It’s never been confirmed to me, but I’m convinced she’s a virgin.Sheprobably wouldn’t know the difference between a scream of pleasure and one of frustration, but I sure do, and the ones I hear in the bedroom are of pure, unadulterated bliss.
While it would serve her right to have to spend the week being uncomfortable, it’s also going to kill my mojo to know she’s listening. Given enough time, the damn girl is probably going to develop a scorecard and start rating my performance over breakfast just to get back at me for having to sleep with a pillow over her head.
And a week is more than enough time for someone like her to develop a scorecard. She’s probably got a fucking template for all that shit on her computer—she’s that much of a teacher’s pet. Always has been.
We have two days here before the first show. Dad and the guys intentionally set a slower pace for this tour, so now we all have time to settle, and they can do their sound checks and rehearsal at the arena where they’ll be performing before the concert. Then there’s another show here in London two days after the first one. We’ll only be leaving after the weekend, which means I’m stuck with Olivia until then.
Needing a distraction when I walk into my room, I drop my bags on the California king bed against the one wall and pull my phone out of my back pocket. The fans love being able to follow the band from stop to stop and seeing where we’re all staying.
Since it’s my job to keep them in the loop, I figure I might as well get a head start. It’ll be a good distraction, and if I do it now, the rest of the day is my own.
As always, I have tons of notifications when I unlock my screen. Over two hundred unread DMs are waiting in my inbox, but I rarely get around to responding to even half of the messages I get. Ignoring those for now, I look around my room to get some ideas of what I can take pictures of. After I’ve uploaded them, I’ll check the rest of my notifications and go like some of the comments people have left.
They eat that shit up. All it takes is for me to react to some of their posts, and they go crazy. It’s fucking awesome. It doesn’t even really matter what I respond to. As long as it’s nothing offensive or inflammatory, I’m all good.
