Sweet Revenge [In progress] ©

Chapter 4

"Can you drive to the hotel and grab my suitcase?" he asks, hands on both sides of his hips.

  "Hmm?" is my reply to this. Oh, uh. "Could you repeat that?"

  In this weather, and in pure daylight, I walk through the city trying to find the hotel he mentioned. Hyatt... Hyatt. I know I saw it somewhere.

It was a trek and with much effort I reach it, not expecting anything other than a smooth process. The place littered with paparazzi, isnt something anybody like me would expect to witness when arriving at a hotel.

I proceeded toward the main doors with confident strides, at the same as someone else. My haste was interrupted when they replied calmly, "I am sorry, we cannot let you through unless—"

  The rest went straight over my head. A sound that seemed far away put me back on earth. "Oh, she's with me"

He stood next to me and grinned. Charming in his suit, he converses with the staff, and he turns to me, "What's this person's name?"

"Dylan Im," I reply. Taken aback, by the words or the name, he takes a few moments before relaying the name off to the staff. 

   "Room 320," The staff said, after awhile.

  The ex-member, and I got to the elevator and pressed the number. Our hands accidentally touching, sending a weird sensation up my spine. Holding tight onto the railings of the elevator, I sighed.

  Ding. The elevator stopped at the right floor. I get off and try to make sense of the hallways. Clutching myself, since the AC in these halls are ridiculous, I walk towards the room the staff told me.

  The phone rings and my hearts almost stops beating. Retrieving it, I answer it, sounding trying and failing at nonchalance. "Yes?"

  "Get my stuff! And hurry up. I think there are paparazzi outside your... dingy apartment!" He says and ends the call so smoothly that I am left there in utter shock. Ugh, he's so rude.

  Is this even the right room? Huge room. My jaw dropped to the floor. Just... incredible and insane. There were of course suitcases. Which suitcase did he even need?

  "It's too late now," I muttered and prepared myself to lift two of them.

  On my way down the hallway, one rolled away while I was closing the hotel room door. It halted near a familiar figure.

  After a few minutes of refusing, I accepted the help. Just my luck, I guess. We both walked down to the lobby. Anyone looking at us would think we are a couple.

  Seeming to read my thoughts he said, "They might think we are a couple,"

   The lobby manager was busy attending to the people ahead of us. So he and I stood, waiting. I let my eyes wander around, surveying the surroundings in hopes of curing my tedium.

Nothing stuck for longer than a minute though. It was our turn before we could stand there like extinct creatures.

  "I am checking out," He said to the manager. They immediately did a few things before telling us to have a great rest of the day.

  We went our separate ways once we knew that nobody was looking at us. I was alone again, with the luggages in tow.

  Finally I arrived back at the apartment, thirsty, sweaty and not too grateful to Dylan. I am gonna kill you, Dylan.

  I rolled it inside after knocking on my own door. "Didn't I tell you to hurry?" He said.

  With no energy left, I trekked straight to my bed, plopped down and closed my eyes. Hopefully something good come in my dream.

  I woke up this time to see Dylan asleep on my armchair. Half-asleep and not even fully aware, I look at the clock. 1 am... I should sleep. Frozen in complete idiocy, I search my brain. Baxter... Fred.

  That... uh. Gold-digger woman and the two... snakes. Oh. I'm supposed look them up. Groggy I drag myself from the bed to my kitchen, and open the laptop. I clear the search bar, and type in 'Baxter Industries' and tons of results pop up, although slow.

  Scrolling and scrolling, I finally stumble upon something very interesting. 'Fred Baxter at his wedding: Speaking about his wife and how proud he is to raise three kids'