Shameful | Congressman!Kylo x Reader

Chapter 13: Cheers

yea what up yall?? was up til 4 last night finishing this up lmao 

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I make a conscious effort to shove the box with a clear lid into the farthest recesses of my mind as I stare at him blankly.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not."

Neither of us makes moves toward the door; we just stand there and take it all in. I search for any indication of smugness in his expression.

"A film festival, huh?" I ask.

"Yeah."

I chew on the inside of my lip, looking up helplessly toward the ceiling of the hallway, breathing deeply through my nose.

"Are there not any other hotels in the area? Is this it?" I say with sarcasm.

"I didn't, like, check." He runs his hand through his hair sheepishly.

"Then...check." I insist, looking up at him expectantly.

Ren hesitantly slides his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it and staring at the screen for a moment. He inhales quickly as if to say something, then shuts his mouth again. He finally says, locking his phone definitively, "I mean, we're both grown-ups."

"Right." Is it bad that I'm starting to feel a bit giddy?

He clears his throat and attempts to lean against the wall by the door, but misjudges the distance and nearly falls over. I can't help the laugh that escapes.

"Like I said, we're both grown-ups," Ren says with a smile, righting himself again and producing the key card to our room. Our room. "Shall we?"

"After you," I gesture, moving to grab my suitcase from next to him, our hands brushing against one another as he reaches for it at the same time.

He beats me to it, hoisting it up and handing me the key card instead. "Ladies first."

I tap the keycard on the reader and push the door open, Ren close behind me with our bags. I can feel him peer over my shoulder and snicker to himself.

This hotel suite is twice the size of my condo back home.

It's resplendent, it's excessive, and we're sharing it.

We walk into the living room with a kitchenette and full fucking dining table tucked to the right. I count three couches total, all upholstered with obnoxious and gauche jewel-toned velvet. Couches. The padlock on the box with a clear lid starts to seize and crack.

There's a full, almost overwhelmingly bright view of the city's twinkling skyline to our left.

Past the living room area is a geometric-patterned partition that opens up to the bedroom. I walk through the threshold and check it out, taking note of the king-sized bed, stocked bar cart, and enormous, entirely-too-minimalistic bathroom around the corner.

"Gauche," I hear Ren from behind me, depositing our suitcases in the corner of the bedroom.

"I was thinking the same thing," I respond.

"Large bed, though," he comments.

"Huge."

After a beat, Ren pushes out a breath, reasoning, "I'll take the couch, of course."

I swivel around to face him, brows knit. "Ren, you'll barely fit. Those couches are more like loveseats. Besides, they look like they're stuffed with concrete."