Vegas Knot (✔️) | Love Travels #1

Sixteen

My alarm comes way too early in the morning. I've barely closed my eyes and my phone is blaring at me to go meet with Enrique in the lobby.

A huge part of me wants to crawl back under the covers and just let him wait until I've had more than four hours of sleep, but I don't have long before I have to be ready to leave for whatever event Divya's got planned for us today, so I begrudgingly roll off of the comfortable mattress and onto the hard floor.

I would have managed a fabulous dismount, if my leg weren't asleep. Or that's what I'm going to tell anyone who asks.

The floor is cool under my shoulder as I roll over to push myself up and crash my head into the leg at the base of the nightstand.

Great start to the day. Fabulous.

My phone keeps going off in fifteen minute intervals as I get ready, a constant background music to my amazing morning.

At the first alarm, I realize I have no clean towels in the bathroom.

The second alarm rings out my inability to get my hair to behave.

And by the third alarm, I've completely given up on looking good and settled for 'comfortable'.

Alarm number four. I'm already late going downstairs but I need better clothes than the mismatched fuzzy pyjamas I wore to sleep last night, so I throw on a pretty green sundress with little lace eyelets on the bottom and almost forget shoes as I race out the door.

My phone is safely in my room, probably ringing the fifth alarm when I finally make it to the lobby. But Enrique is nowhere in sight.

"I cannot believe I rushed down here for this," I mutter to myself, earning a side eye from a young woman who's been here since yesterday and a man dressed head to toe in powder blue.

"Rushed down here for what?" Enrique asks from behind me. "For me to bring you this delightful sunshine smoothie to thank you for waking an hour early to help me and my suitcases out?"

"I didn't think you were here," I admit. The truth seems like the best bet right now.

"Well, then I'm happy to pleasantly surprise you. How was the rest of your night? Did you and Lorena stay up braiding each other's hair and watching movies?"

"Yes. We watched every horror on the overpriced pay per view."

He's trying to figure out how to answer me, but it's too early in the morning for this, so I spare him. "I'm joking, Enrique. We went to bed. I couldn't really sleep though, for some reason. I think it was too hot maybe."

"Everything is too hot here. Except at night it gets cold somehow? I wasn't prepared for that."

"Me neither! You'd think we would have done some weather research before we came out, right?"

"You do seem like the type," he laughs, reaching around behind him to pass me a cup of coffee from a cafe down the street. "But for now, will you accept my peace offering and allow me to put my bags in my room? The lobby is large and judgemental."

"Check in isn't until three," I answer. "I thought you knew that."

"But you'll be gone by three. Aren't I coming with you?"

"We're supposed to be back around supper, I think, but reception is 24 hours so I'm sure we'll be fine once we get back. Unless that doesn't work for you. Maybe I can see if they have a room available. Sometimes places like this have rooms where—"

"Bianca?" He waits for me to stop talking. "It's fine. Just guide me to where I can keep my bags and sit down to eat my breakfast."

"I guess that's my room until this evening."

Why is the thought of taking a boy back to my room causing me anxiety still after all these years? Maybe it's because he's my husband. He doesn't seem like the type to do anything with that information, but I don't want to lead him on either.

Somehow, my inner monologue is not interrupted the whole way to my room, and I'm still wondering if I'm going to pass out when I push the door open and stand to the side while he drags his luggage inside.

When he's down to the last carry on, I spin it around and drag it in behind me, the door closing with a thud.

"So, this is where the magic of not sleeping happens?" he asks, leaning his suitcases against the wall. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah. The couch is fine. I'll just clear this mess off the coffee table. Sorry about that. Busy morning."

"It's fine. You have other things to do or you want to share some breakfast?"

"Are you just always in possession of food?"

"Maybe. It's a holdover from my niece and my students, I think. I just always have snacks for them. So I figured, why not offer them to you?"

"Well, as to whether I would like them, that depends what you got."

He pulls out a whole lunch box and opens the zipper. "I have an egg sandwich, some cereal with milk, oatmeal, and some muffins. Oh! And some fresh fruit."

"I could take some fresh fruit. And I don't think I ever say no to a muffin. Any chance it has chocolate chips?"

"One of them does. I'll flip you for it."

He's smiling, and I think he's joking, but this is awkward enough already, so I just rub my palms against my dress and smile. "I guess you can have it, then. I don't usually eat a lot of breakfast."

"It's fine, Bianca. I was just pulling your leg. You can have the chocolate muffin and I'll have the banana nut. I only bought ones that I like. That's a trick, you know. You only buy things you like so if you mess up and they hate it, nothing goes to waste."

"Smart and resourceful," I say.

Fortunately, stuffing my face with muffins, fruit, and smoothies is the perfect excuse not to talk anymore.

I dread what will happen when I'm done eating so much that I nurse the last three sips of coffee to last at least ten minutes.

That phone alarm that was so annoying to me earlier is silent now, hopelessly forgetting to beckon us downstairs for the beginning of our tour.

"Do you mind if I change in your bathroom?" he asks abruptly through the silence. "I'm not sure what the appropriate attire is but Divya said 'somewhat casual but also fancy' so that was really exceptionally helpful. Please tell me the wedding has a better dress code."

"It's formal," I say without thinking. "And of course you can change. Just let me know if you need anything. I'm going to find some comfortable shoes and a purse that can survive the outdoors. Meet you back here in a few?"

The look on his face suggests we are both running away from the awkward silence. Someone send help! It wasn't this awkward yesterday. Something about him being in my space is just so uncomfortable. I don't know him at all.

So why am I so worried about what he thinks? Why can't I put away this needless concern?

And of course this is the precise moment when my phone decides to interrupt me again. It's time to put my shoes on and get myself down to the lobby for an entire day trapped in a closed tour with all of the bridesmaids, Raj, and my husband.

If I say 'my husband' enough times it might start to feel more natural, right?