The Chance

37 || Hotel Room

Hotel Room - Montell Fish
𓆩♡𓆪
Alexander

A morning has never felt so refreshing, yet so dull at the same time.

Relaxing, yet so stimulating.

The room is dark, the sheets are comfortably warm, my eyes are heavily shut.

After last night I was expecting to wake up with a certain someone next to me, legs tangled, arms around her. But as I shuffle around and feel no one, I'd say I felt the tiniest bit of disappointment.

That is, until I hear the sound of the faucet coming from the bathroom a few feet away.

I open my eyes and see the tossed sheets on the opposite side of the bed. I roll over and check the time on my phone, realizing it's best if I get up too.

We both have early flights today.

I stand up and walk over to the dimly lit bathroom. I see Evie in the mirror, bare face, wild hair, tired eyes and all.

And despite it all, I think to myself, Why does she even wear makeup?

Because to me, she definitely doesn't need it.

"Morning." Evie is in the middle of brushing her teeth when I kiss her temple. I grab my toothbrush off the counter, "Couldn't stay in bed a little longer?"

"It was too hot." she complains. "And I wanted to shower before my flight."

Evie detours to turn on the shower, running her hand under the water until she finds it warm enough. I continue to brush my teeth next to her as she wipes the excess water on her—well, my shirt.

It sits loosely over her shoulder, flows past the curve of her ass, and swallows her smaller frame whole.

"There's a towel hanging two feet away from you, you know that?" I ask her jokingly.

She spits some toothpaste out into the sink and hops up onto the counter in front of me. "Since when did you care about a little water on your shirt?" she questions.

It sounds a little too serious to me, so much so that I regress. "I was kidding." I narrow my eyes before leaning past her shoulder to wash out my mouth.

I feel the pads of her fingers on my arm as I dry my lips with the hung towel. When I look back at her, her finger is tracing the outline of one of my tattoos.

I don't stop her, I let her do it. And I realize that she does it quite often.

When we first met I remember her sudden interest in the ink on my arm, sooner or later it led to her tracing them, and she does it most times as we sit in silence.

She did it when the heater broke at our house a few weeks back, again when I let her stay over after she had a really terrible day, another time when we accidentally fell asleep on the couch together.

And she's doing it again now.

I didn't mind. Nor did I really question it.

Her eyes are heavily focused as her thumb runs across a fragment of script I have on my arm. She holds the toothbrush with her teeth, "Three's a family?"

"Me and my sisters." I state clearly.

She nods, looks back at it, then to me again. "You seem to care about them a lot. I mean, I know you're their brother and all but it seems super genuine."

I don't really have much more to say to that. "That's just who I am."

She pats her mouth dry and smiles at me. "I know. That's what I like about you. You actually care." Her warm hands glide up the front of my chest and hang at my shoulders. "I kinda find it hot."