20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Thirty three

Another maid shows me to a different room — it's on the floor above, right next to Jack's bedroom. I'm not thrilled about being this far from Kyle. At least with him, I know what to expect. But I was the one who asked for a separate room, so I can't really complain.

The girl opens the door, then leaves quietly, closing it behind her. The room is big, with a large bed and wide windows overlooking a beautiful view. It's far more than I ever imagined I'd have. After spending nights in a bathroom, this feels like a dream.

A knock on the door breaks my thoughts.

"Come in," I say softly.

Jack steps inside. For some reason, his presence makes me uncomfortable. I can't explain why, but it's there — a tension that unsettles me.

"Do you like the room?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's really nice," I nod politely.

"Okay, dinner will be ready soon. Get some rest if you need," he says with a smile, then leaves.

I'm starving, but I'm also exhausted. I should shower. I look around — there must be a bathroom. I open the nearest door and find one. It's a decent size, clean, with everything I need.

But where's my bag?

Oh no. With Kyle. Of course.

I know it's stupid, but I miss him already. I find his number saved on the phone he got me and call.

"Twyla?" he answers after three rings.

"Yeah... uh, I just wanted to ask — do you have my bag with you?"

"Yeah, it's here. Where's your room?"

"Upstairs... actually, I'll just come down and grab it, okay?"

"Alright. You don't need permission," he says, his tone serious.

I head downstairs and find him waiting in the hallway.

"Hi," I say with a smile.

A small one plays on his lips too.

"Where's my bag?" I glance around, not seeing it.

"In the room," he replies, nodding toward his door.

"Okay," I mutter, stepping inside.

His room is bigger than mine, with similar furniture but a warmer feel. It's cozy.

I spot my bag near the end of the bed and walk toward it. But then I hear the door close behind me.

Kyle's inside.

I turn, puzzled. "I'm just going to take the bag and leave."

He chuckles. "That's what you think."

I blink. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, stepping closer. He looks incredible — grey pants, maroon shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows. I fold my arms, trying to keep it together.

"You'll understand," he says, closing the space between us.

I move toward the bag, but as I reach for it, his hand brushes mine. I flinch, and the bag drops with a loud thud.

I turn around, and he's right there. Leaning in.

"Kyle..." I whisper. "Please... leave me."

"Are you sure?" he murmurs in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Yes," I reply, though we both know it's not completely true. I want him — but not like this. Not before marriage. Even if that's impossible.

"Fine," he says, backing away. "Be careful."

He sits on the bed, watching me.

I pick up the bag and drag it toward the door. It catches on the threshold.

"I've got it," I say quickly as he gets up to help.

"I know you do. Until you hit the stairs," he grins.

"I can handle it." I meet his eyes, defiant.

"I'd love to see that," he teases, following me out.

The bag scrapes against the floor as I drag it. Not exactly graceful.

"Go back to your room," I snap.

He doesn't listen.

Halfway up the stairs, the bag gets heavier. I start lifting it, regretting not asking for help.

Behind me, I hear footsteps.

"Oh, let me help," Jack offers. He grabs the bag before I can argue. Kyle watches, unimpressed.

"She said she could do it alone," he says, smirking.

I glare at him. "Shut up," I mouth silently.

⸻

We eat dinner together. Jack talks a lot — mostly about his past with women, and a little about Kyle's too. He also shares some things about his business. I have to admit, I'm impressed. He's young, but clearly successful.

Later, I collapse onto the bed in my room. I need a job — badly. Who's going to pay for my food and clothes?

I miss my parents. I don't know when — or if — I'll see them again.

I grab my phone and log into Facebook. Most of my relatives aren't active, but I need to check. Especially for my grandma. I search for familiar names. Nothing.

Twenty new messages wait for me — all from friends and teachers. I miss them. But most of all, I worry about Mom and Dad.

Scrolling through my feed, I stop at a post:

"Twyla hasn't come back yet. If I know anything new, I'll let you all know."

Oh my God.

I comment:

"I'm safe — for everyone who's been worried. I'm still here because I haven't found my parents yet. If anyone knows anything about the accident, please message me."

I set my phone down, trying to sleep. But it's impossible. My mind is full of fear — what if I never find them? What if I never even figure out where I am?

My phone buzzes.

Kyle:
Did you sleep?

Me:
No.

Kyle:
Want to chat?

Me:
I was wondering how Mom and Dad would know where I am... if they ever arrive here. But that even feels impossible now.

Kyle:
You're the most pessimistic human I've ever met.

Me:
Not joking!!!

Kyle:
I see 👀
Well, I gave them my number. If anything new happens, they'll call me. I called them yesterday — no updates yet.

Me:
Why didn't you tell me?!

Kyle:
Because there was nothing new. Why tell you just to disappoint you?

Me:
Thank you, anyway.

Kyle:
Twy... uhm...

Me:
Uhm what?

Kyle:
Nothing. You'll never do what I want anyway.

...........................
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