Describing Him (Ansel Elgort)

12 // Arriving in New York

We're here," He whispers, to no one in particular.

It's dark outside, but I can faintly make out a street and houses.

I can't tell if I've been asleep or awake for the past hour, but I'm tired now and my head hurts.

"Where's the hotel?" I ask, stretching.

"Hotel?" He chuckles, holding my gaze. "My parents won't like that name." He smiles.

My head spins. What is he going on about?

"Where are we?"

He tries to hide his smirk.

"My parent's house,"

I sit up straighter in the chair. Did I hear him right?

"You're...joking?" He shakes his head, his amused smile still glowing on his face.

My mind can only focus on one thing: I need air.

I open the car door in a trance, and breathe in the cold early morning air of New York.

I've never walked these streets. I've never seen this city. They'll never be new again; I'll only ever be a stranger to them once.

For a second, I get an odd feeling that I could escape - dissolve into the foreignness and unknown of this new city.

But it is just a passing moment, and I know that whatever that feeling was, it wasn't mine.

I'm not really sure what feelings are mine anymore.

I close my eyes, breathing in deeply. Remember where you are, Margo.

My name seems to bring me back to the situation.

His parent's house. We were going to stay at his parents house.

Somewhere outside of my thoughts, a car door shuts, and footsteps pound behind me. It could just be the headache, but in a moment, Ansel is next to me, silent and a funny expression on his face. I am suddenly aware of how I'm holding myself - my bare arms covered in goosebumps, wrapped around my stomach. I hadn't noticed how much colder it was compared to the car.

"Sorry. We should go inside. I'll get the bags."

To my surprise, he doesn't argue.

Ansel finally digs the keys out of his wallet after looking for them everywhere. He'd normally make some sort of joke, but neither of us were in the mood.

The hallway to Ansel's house seems to stretch further then the blackness that covers the end. The only thing I can see is two framed pictures on the wall and a staircase on the left.

Ansel catches up to where I stand in the middle of the hall.

"Up the stairs and on your left. Go on up," he says, gesturing.

I stare at him. He stares back.

"Oh, I was just going to go put my things on the bench for Mom." he says, walking past me and breaking eye contact. He glances behind for a second, his face is flustered and he looks uncomfortable.

I decide to just go upstairs. I'm exhausted.

But once I reach the top of staircase, I see the problem.

Eight door handles stare at me expectantly.

"Uh, Ansel?" I half call, half murmur, not knowing if I expected him to hear him or not.

"You alright?" His voice tickles me ear, and I can feel his breath on my neck.

I jump, sucking in a breath.

"What the hell!"

I can feel him smile.

"Third one on your left," he says, opening the door for me.

"For Christ's sake," I murmur, pushing past him to the bedroom.

(A/N- sorry. I thought this chapter would be better but it's sorry of a nothing chapter. Oh well. hope you enjoyed it!)