▄▄ ˗ˏˋ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 'ˎ˗ ──
IN WHICH , ── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
after Spider-man almost breaks
into her window, Amala has to
balance her two new lives: the
life where she knows him and the
life where she falls for Peter Parker . .
▄▄ *+...
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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE; moonlight and fresh tears.
AMALA'S SUITCASE FALLS ON THE CARPET IN A LOUD THUD. Upon entering the hotel, Amala had a single goal in mind: get to her room and pass out until everything is okay again.
They'd arrived at around midnight and students clambered out, desperate to see the hotel. It was a massive upgrade since Venice — so much so, they honestly couldn't believe it. Instead of dingy signs and moldy carpets, beautiful chandeliers and marble floors greeted them. It was beautiful and it probably cost more than the entire trip's budget.
It just made it all the worse for Amala.
After a long, long, long safety speech given by Mr. Dell and Mr. Harrington (that only needed about two minutes, had they not jogged circles around the point) everyone went up to their respective rooms. Students were given a room each, so Akira and Amala separated sadly, but promised to hang out before everyone woke up.
Akira could see the emotional exhaustion in Amala's eyes, so she bid her goodnight and told her to take care of herself. Amala simply smiled, thankful for such an understanding best friend.
Now in her room, Amala takes a moment to assess the space. A clean, queen size bed sits in the middle, two nightstands on each side. The walls are a simple cream color with curtains a shade darker. The carpet is a deep maroon and it contrasts nicely with the wallpaper. More importantly, the room looks clean and Amala wants to sob in relief.
Sighing, she unzips her suitcase and grabs her bag of toiletries in one hand, juggling a set of pajamas with the other.
She enters the bathroom and nearly swoons at its cleanliness; white tiles and a beautiful vanity are stationed, with crisp light making the room brighter.
Amala undresses quickly and turns on the faucet to the hottest dial possible, before stepping in.
Burning water hits her back, neck and hair. She sighs under the stream, letting her whole body get drenched. Her muscles un-tense and for just a moment, she feels at peace.
"Fuck." Amala curses as a detangler brush gets caught on a strand of knotted hair.
She breaths in and out, before trying again. After several more tries, she finally brushes through it and finishes the rest of her hair. She applies her standard hair products, taking care to rake it all through her curls. Once satisfied, she walks out of the bathroom, dirty clothing in hand.
Amala throws them into a mesh bag of her other dirty clothes and shudders at the temperature. The AC has been on since she got here and she hasn't bothered to turn it off. After a bit of searching, she finds the remote and shuts it down. Still, it feels too chilly for comfort. At this, Amala digs through her suitcase for a hoodie. Brown eyes land on a deep emerald hoodie and her hand pauses.
