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“There are a couple of options. I think we’ll get through them soon enough.”
“Boring. Should I call him and ask for a bigger room?”
“Don’t you dare. I hope he doesn’t get in trouble for this,” Hope said as she dropped her bag beside the bed.
“No?” Xavier asked. “We can always say we’ve reconsidered and ask for a regular sized room.”
“Are you crazy?” Hope asked incredulously.
“Only when you’re around.” Xavier grabbed her in a bear hug.
“That is perhaps the single worst line you’ve ever used, and that’s quite an achievement,” she said, nuzzling into his chest.
“I try,” he said giving her a light kiss on her forehead. “But I am, bad line or not, kinda crazy about you.”
Xavier placed a more forceful kiss on her lips. Her mouth still had the faint tang of his cum. Hope gave an excited little jig before stepping away to unzip her bag. She pulled out a colourful masquerade mask. Twirling it with her index finger, she said, “I forgot to use this the other night, so how about you lay down on the bed while I—”
He took the mask from her hand and threw it back on her bag. “No.”
“I’m sorry?” She pouted.
“No more masks for today. No more wigs. No more barriers. No more play acting. I want the real you from now on.”
“Oh, Xavier, we already talked about this. Thisisn’treality. This is a dream. A beautiful, surreal, perfect dream. We both know we’re going to have to wake up soon. It can’t last. We both realize that. We fuck until it’s not fun anymore. Your words, remember? No commitmentsring a bell? Okay, I guess I kinda screwed up the no complications bit, but hey. Look, you’ll go back to your old life soon, your own country, and I’ll…well, I’ll go back to…my old life. Can’t we leave it at that?”
Not on his watch. “Why won’t you let me try to help you, Hope? Your old life is obviously making you miserable. Maybe I can help before we hit California. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not as stupid as I look.”
She folded her arms. “Do you see any sand here?”
“Huh?”
“We’re not on a beach, Surfer-Boy. I don’t need you to save my life. I’m not drowning.”
“Are you sure?”
“That I don’t need your help or that I’m not drowning?”
“Yes.”
It was Xavier’s turn to cross his arms. He forced himself to try a more conciliatory tone. “The fact that you went to all this trouble to disappear, that doing so seemed like a viable option, tells me your life isn’t all rainbows and unicorns. Meanwhile your family must have assumed you were dead in a ditch somewhere, sold into slavery, or joined a cult that worships cheese.”
“Cheese?”
“Just…Hope, if you’re not happy, maybe you should do something about it. All I’m saying is if you need an impartial sounding board. I’m here for you, okay?”
“Impartial?”
“Slightly partial.”
“Well, alrighty then.”
Xavier opened his palms as if to saywell?
“It’s not that easy. You can’t fix my life in twenty-five words or less. It’s complicated. I’m complicated. I’ll sort it out, but I need some time without anyone breathing down my neck. Or front. Or my whatever. Okay?”
Xavier didn’t respond, his jaw clenching. This wasn’t over by a long shot. He’d remind her later, and he’d get some resolution, some way to sort out this shit-heap she’d found herself in.
“Great. Sorted. Before we do anything else,” she said, raising a finger, “we need a drink. Do you think this place has any booze?”
