𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ✓

TWELVE

-

The cabin is beautiful. Even Sebastian is impressed by how picture-perfect it looks with its wooden facade, the black-framed windows, and the giant porch that faces the lake. He drove the last bit to our destination after the food break. Now, Jolene's car smells like rotten fries from the combination of the preexisting scent and the food we got. I stand in the middle of the driveway, trying to get reception to let Kelly know we've arrived without anyone getting killed in some way. Knowing I look ridiculous, I instantly let my phone sink as soon as Sebastian comes back out of the cabin.

"So helpful, Emmons," he comments as he picks up one of his bags and one of mine, the one with the broken hairdryer. I blush, shove my phone away in the pocket of my pants, and decide to help him. There are only two more bags in there, both are mine. With one powerful yank, I lift them out of the trunk. What the hell did I pack? Rocks?

"Can you lock the car?" I ask as I walk past him, heavily breathing, feeling like my arms are being ripped out of their sockets. 

"Not that there's anyone near who could steal it, but sure."

His sarcastic tone makes me roll my eyes. We've been here for about five minutes, and I'm already annoyed. Get ready for two more weeks of this.

"Also, no one would steal this piece of scrap metal," he adds, locking the car as I told him by twisting the key in the lock. The wireless locking function is broken. He pats the engine hood like greeting a dog as he walks back to the entry door. There's a little porch in front of it, two steps leading up there. I am out of breath when I finally reach the door and let the bags down, relieving my entire body. I'm also sure I broke out in a sweat by now. The heat of the summer day is still fizzling in the air, even though the sun slowly starts to set. I find myself wondering if I can watch the sunset over the lake. I must be pretty.

"Oh, come on," Sebastian groans, and without further comment, he picks up the heavier of the two bags and steps past me, almost pushing me over in the process, and drops the bag next to the others that he set down by the L-shaped, dark brown couch. 

The cabin is furnished in a very rural look, all dark wood with red, white, and yellow accents. Giant windows give a great view over the forest and lake. The kitchen is dark green with black appliances. In conclusion: this is the nicest vacation home I've ever stayed at. It almost makes me forget Golden Boy, who stands on the fluffy rug in the living room, hands on his hips, letting his gaze drift around the room just as I had just done.

"This is nice, isn't it," I mutter, knowing I triggered some sort of snappy counter. He turns in my direction, his bright blue eyes pierce through me. I gulp. The intensity of his glare makes me slightly uncomfortable. I feel exposed somehow; as if he could stare into my thoughts. I hate when that happens. 

"Sure is," he begins, and I almost wince in anticipation of his following tease. But he remains silent and begins to walk around, finding the hallway to the bedrooms. Baffled by his almost neutral, no, maybe even kind response, my eyes follow him. He wears a black tee with some light wash jeans. I glare down at my own pants, slightly shabby travel pants, comparable to thin sweatpants, essentially. Suddenly, I feel underdressed. Bullshit, Charlie, you're on vacation. You can wear anything you want.

I inhale deeply, smooth down my soft t-shirt, the white one with the LOS ANGELES-print on it. The funny thing is: I've never even been to California. I bought this at H&M. He looks casual yet relaxed, not to mention good. Even his tousled hair looks better than the curly, stubborn hair I inherited from my mother could ever. Stop thinking about how good he looks. He can stare into your soul, remember?

I'm just about to follow him and check out the bedrooms when I hear him curse. Loud, sharp, echoing through the entire house.

"What the actual fuck?"

Shocked, I run to him. There are two doors in the hallway, both open. Sebastian stands in the doorframe, one palm wiping his forehead. I look into the other room and find it to be the bathroom. It looks pretty, black showerhead and tap, cream-colored towels ready for use. When I turn my head to where Sebastian is standing. A bedroom. Then I remember that there were only two doors in this hallway...

"Okay, wait. Don't tell me ―" I begin, but he cuts me off, turning to me with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

"There's only one bed."

He says it with utter disgust, scrunching his nose, his eyes flicking me up and down. Then, he rushes to the living room without another word. I stay in my spot, only inching closer to the door to be able to see the room. He is in fact right. One bed, Queen-sized, dark grey sheets, dark wooden nightstand and drawer by the walls, one wall is basically one huge window leading out to the deep forest. Oh, oh.

Oh.

"Stan here, boss. Listen. There is only one bed. That has to be a mistake, right? We're two people, I mean ― Yes. Okay. Uh. Mhm.  ― Seriously?"

I can only hear a few bits of the call Golden Boy makes. My gaze is still glued to the bed. I realize how tired I am. 

"Bad news, Emmons," Sebastian groans as he comes back to me. I look up at him. He seems insanely upset, his face is flushed, his jaw clenched. He mutters through his teeth.

"The boss messed up the reservation, but they can't do anything about it. This is the last free cabin they have. And because the company doesn't 'get the money back upon cancellation'," he draws quotation marks in the air, "We have to stay here nevertheless."

He says it like it's a death sentence. His own, possibly. He cusses as he walks back to the living room. I'm baffled. I almost can't find anything to say to this. I just remain in my position. This can't be real.

"You're taking the bed," he orders and rushes past me with all three of my bags in hand  ― How the fuck does he carry those with such ease?? ― and puts them next to the bed. I shake my head.

"What?"

"No discussion, Emmons, shut it. Just accept it before I change my fucking mind."

"Oh ― I, uh, okay."

"God, I knew something just had to go wrong on this stupid trip," he harshly snaps as he walks back to the living room and then to the kitchen, where he gets a glass of water, chugging it down like he hadn't just had some Pepsi two hours ago. I follow him.

"Not my fault, stop yelling at me, for fuck's sake!"

"Fuck, Emmons, do I look like I care? It's bad enough that I have to stay here with you for two entire fucking weeks. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He slams the empty glass on the counter and leans against the giant kitchen island. I try to calm my breathing. I don't want to explode twenty minutes after our arrival, but I am close to at least punch him in the guts or something. 

"Yeah, I can't say I'm too happy about you being here, either," I say as sharply and cold as I can manage, and then strut to the bedroom that he surprisingly left me to unpack my stuff. As per usual after a fight, I slam the door closed with all force I have left in my body. As soon as new silence drums in my ears, I feel that tears start running down my face. Why do I always have to cry when I'm mad?

Two more weeks with Sebastian, only one bed  ― and one couch. This screams utter fun, doesn't it?