eight
In Maine now.
I've never really been one for waking up early. I like my sleep, I cherish my sleep. If I could be a cat, I'd be that really lazy cat that sits on ones lap all day and all night, only moving for food (maybe some bird watching, too).
We checked in around 1 in the morning, the receptionist said breakfast includes cinnamon rolls fresh and hot. Now, when someone has me choosing between food and sleep, I will almost always choose food.
I love food, and I have no shame.
It was twenty minutes past seven in the morning, and I was fully dressed. I had my usual dark jeans, my normal black tee shirt with a few holes over it. My high top Coverse were on, my hair was hair-sprayed into proper position. Everything was pretty good, I was feeling pretty good.
I ignored my body begging me to sleep and grabbed my hotel key, shoving it into my wallet and heading out.
I made sure the door locked before I began my walk down the hotel hallway.
The hotel was glamorous, tall gold-colored walls held up with stone beams, the floors were a deep red carpet, it looked straight from a Sims game I used to play. I still play. I will never stop playing Sims with endless cheat codes.
I got to the elevator, rolling on the balls of my feet as I waited for the glass elevator doors to open up to the cathedral-like eight-story foyer in front of us.
I stepped in, finding the floor to the lobby. I could smell the hot cinnamon rolls, my body was ready.
"Hold it!" A voice yelled behind me.
I put my hand in front of the closing doors, causing them to open once more.
A fatigued Luke rushed in, his worn out blue eyes looking up at me. "Quickly!" He yelled, realizing I hadn't moved my hand yet.
I retracted my limb, letting the doors close once more. As we began descending, I could see his security team walk by. "Are you hiding from them?" I asked.
"Yeah," he responded, out of breath. He leant down on his bent knees, trying to catch air into his lungs. "I'm not in the mood to be captured in my hotel room."
"Oh," I said, looking down at our feet on the ground.
Luke stood up again, stretching out his back. "You wanna go on an adventure?" He asked.
I looked up at him, questioning if I heard him correctly. "I'm sorry, what?"
He pulled at the collar of the black hoodie around his shoulders, taking it off and putting it over his arm. He was left in an off-colored white tee shirt with a huge hole underneath the arm pit. He was wearing black jeans and I'm certain it's the only pair he's worn for a weak. "Either you're coming with me or you never saw me, alright? I have an Uber outside waiting to take me half an hour away, are you coming?" He asked again, slower this time.
I'm sure his purposely slowed speech was a derogatory sign, but I couldn't possibly be offended. "I'll go with you. Can I get a cinnamon roll, though?"
Luke rolled his eyes as the doors opened. "Make it fast."
I grabbed the hot food I've been waiting hours for before finding him outside.
I remember going on adventures with Ashton. Ash was always up for doing something stupid as long as he could bring his camera. When we were teenagers, we'd break into the run down factory down the street at least once a month back home. He'd take some candids of me, I'd tell him how ugly I felt, then we'd go home.
