Games

23

Almost the last chapter!!!! One more then that's it... So sorry guys.... Love you though!!! ~Alex

nasty habits

"Get up get up get up!"

"Fuck off Oliver."

"Do you want me to carry your arse out of bed like I did at Matt's?"

"No thank you."

"Then get up, get some pants on, and come down to the dining room with me. They're serving breakfast and I'm hungry."

Shuffling to sit up on my elbows, I cocked my head over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Oliver sitting on the edge of the bed, taking note of the black long sleeved shirt and grey sweatpants he wore. "You do realize you can go down there, get food, and bring it back up don't you?" I asked, finally deciding to sit upright and run my fingers through my tousled hair. He was going to make me go down there anyways and I had to get up at some point, so whatever.

"And you do realize you can get off your lazy arse, walk with your boyfriend down to the fucking buffet area, and have some breakfast with him right?" He mocked, standing up and grabbing my hands. He pulled me roughly out of bed, basically jerking my deadweight up so that I could stand on my own two feet. It was more of a stumble, really, that left me falling into his chest and clutching his shirt.

"Such a klutz," he laughed, looking me over; I was still almost naked from last night, only boxers on my body and nothing else. "Come on." He left my side and grabbed a shirt and pants from our duffle bag, tossing them at me so I could get dressed in them.

Once I was fully clothed and had put some socks on, Oliver held my hand in his and we walked out of the hotel room together, making our way down the hallway and towards the elevator. Something seemed to be off about him, but I couldn't quite place my finger on what exactly could be bothering him. He seemed a bit nervous and on edge, but I chose to ignore it; if something was wrong he'd tell me, that we'd promised each other. Maybe it was just small anxiety, I don't know. When I called his name and he looked at me, however, it was as if the worry on his face disappeared.

By the time the elevator touched the main floor and the short ding was no more in earshot, he was back to normal, squeezing my hand tighter while leading me out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby.

"Hope they have something good to eat," I said, earning an agreed mumble in response. Others in the lobby around us were staring at us questioningly, a look we got a lot; another male holding another male's hand only meant one of two things: they were really close best friends that just acted gay with each other, or they actually were gay, hence the confused looks. They weren't necessarily judging, just trying to figure out which it was.

Before we even got into the dining room I could smell the food being made, strong waves of pancakes and syrup and coffee and tea entering my airways. I almost closed my eyes as I took in the warming scents, stomach gurgling hungrily. Now I was actually starting to thank Oliver for waking me up.

"It smells really fucking good in here," Oliver announced once we entered the eating area, a few of the tables already occupied by older couples and families of the sort; there were a couple businessmen here and there, sipping on their drinks and reading the local newspaper tentatively.

Around the edges of the room, lining the walls, were tables of food set up for us to eat as we wished. Everything, including the pancakes, scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, biscuits, coffee, etcetera were pre-made; the only things that weren't were the cereal, which obviously didn't need cooking, and the waffles, which you could make yourself with the waffle maker they had out.