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30: Presents, Parties, and Poker

30: Presents, Parties, and Poker

Long before Emmett was awake, I sat up on the couch in the living area of the hotel room. My back ached slightly, and my bad leg was uncomfortably propped on top so I wouldn't bend it. Really, I didn't know how my body had twisted itself into such a position, but I could tell from the way my neck and back ached that I'd been there for a while.

I went to the fridge to pour myself a glass of milk. My hair was sticking up everywhere. Since Emmett was still out and we'd decided to actually join civilization today, I plugged in my straightener and began working a brush through the tangled locks. I'd curl my hair tomorrow, but I didn't feel like anything more than straightening. My hair was a little on the thinner side and not too wavy, so it took only about ten to fifteen minutes to complete the task.

Just in case I became sick of it being down, I threw a ponytail holder on my wrist. I liked to look pretty, but not at the expense of my comfort. Considering the temperature, I figured I'd likely keep it down.

It was nice to have a safety hair tie, though.

Remembering what Emmett had said about room service coming with the stay—while also wondering just how much extra that had cost—I grabbed the phone and began searching for the number.

It turned out, I didn't need it. A polite voice greeted me before I could even press a number. "Hello?" I asked in confusion after hearing the whole speech that basically dragged out the words, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Is there something you need?" she reiterated.

"Can I please have some pancakes delivered to room one twenty two?" There was a lengthy pause. I didn't know if she was writing the order or if she was dialing someone else, or if she hadn't heard me and was still waiting for my answer. "Please?" I added, smiling even though she couldn't see.

"Of course," she said. "Syrup?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Blueberry, chocolate chip, or regular?"

It sounded very much like she was repeating something, probably looking at the menu options for me. I didn't really know. "Um, blueberry." I knew Emmett didn't like them plain, but he wasn't a chocolate person.

"And any sides?"

"Options?"

"Bacon, eggs, biscuits, hash browns, grits, cheesy potatoes—"

"No, thank you," I said quickly, realizing the list was probably nearing endless.

"Drinks?"

"No, ma'am."

"That will be ready in about twenty minutes. Anything else?"

"No, ma'am."

She hung up and I frowned at the phone. They hadn't said anything about costs, but I didn't know if that meant the delivery person would or if that meant it was just automatically known.

Shrugging, I turned and began going through my closet for an outfit. It wouldn't be anything overly cute, but I didn't want to hit the malls looking like a complete slob. I found a pair of leggings and then layered a pair of jeans over them.

The process took quite a while, but I was soon standing in the middle of the room with two pairs of pants on, two T-shirts and a hoodie, and trying to decide what beanie went with it when a knock sounded on the door.

"Room service," someone called. Grinning, I opened the door. He looked at me with a small frown, probably noticing that I was obviously not usually in Michigan and facing cold weather dilemmas. "Twenty two dollars and twenty three cents will be charged to your bill."