Lost Soul Down

FIVE

The sun is warm.

I open my eyes slowly, blinking as the sunlight hits my face. The bed I'm in surprisingly comfortable, and I never want to leave.

Then I remember.

Last night resurfaces in my head, and I jerk upright, my head darting from side to side. Once I determine that I'm safe, I relax.

I'm in a hotel room, covered in white sheets— more than a usual hotel would give you. It must be late in the morning because the sun is high in the sky, and shining brightly though the curtains.

Kylan.

He's on his own bed adjacent to mine, and he's sound asleep facing the other direction from me. He's using only one blanket— he gave all of the other ones to me.

He carried me all the way up here. Heat rises in my face, and I look away from him. I suddenly feel vulnerable. He carried my limp
body all the way up to this room, and tucked me in to bed.

He's so sweet. I don't think anyone's been nice to me like that for a long time— besides my parents, of course. I miss them.

I notice I'm still wearing my pajamas and Kylan's sweatshirt, and feel dirty.

When I step off the bed, I feel as good as new. My legs are back to normal strength.

I slowly tip-toe into the bathroom, careful to be quiet, since I don't want to wake him. The clock says that it's 10:00 am.

I close the bathroom door and turn on the shower. I use the hotel's toothbrush to brush my teeth, and attempt to use the small comb to brush out my long, thick hair. It's a challenge.

In the mirror, my hair is messy and there's dirt all over me. This is how Kylan saw me? I'm a mess. I don't know why it makes me so angry, I guess I just don't want him to think bad of me. But for some reason I feel like he'd never think low of me.

I strip off my crusty pajamas and step in the shower. The warm water feels good on my skin. I can finally be clean.

After my hair is smoothed to perfection and my skin is scrubbed clean, I finally step out of the shower and wring my hair out.

Uh-oh. I don't have clothes to change into. Unless I dare get back into those dirt-filled pajamas. No.

I wrap a towel around my body just as I hear a knock on the bathroom door.

"Amelia?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, I open the door.

Kylan's hair is messy from sleep, but he still looks annoyingly good. How can he always manage to look good? His eyes drop to the towel I'm clutching to my body, and back up. His blue green-eyes meet my grey ones.

"I—I don't have clothes," I finally say.

He's still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, boots aside.

"Oh, I got you some."

"What?" My eyebrows furrow. "You did?"

He smiles small. "Yeah, while you were asleep."

He walks to the table, and grabs some neatly folded clothes. Then he hands them to me casually.

I smile, big. "I'm not even gonna ask how you stole these."

He smiles back. "Good idea."

I close the door and examine the clothes he got me, genuinely curious. He hand picked these items himself, after all.

The pants are a pair of black cargo-sweatpants, something I'd never personally pick out. But I like them.

The shirt is a skin-tight long sleeve, also black.