Seven Heartbeats

Midnight Rendezvous

Night-time in a big hotel is just as boring as it sounds. I'm crazy jet lagged, and nothing's helping. Mom has popped one of those pills her doctor boyfriend has prescribed her, but they make me all weird the next day, so I politely declined when she offered. So here I am at 3 AM in Finch Towers, one of the fanciest hotels in New York City, bored out of my mind.

I know there's a pool up on the roof, but apparently someone's booked the top two floors and that locks the elevators. You need a special key card to access the pool now. I'm out in the corridor outside my room in my swimsuit and flip flops, a towel tossed over my shoulder and the complementary fluffy white bathrobe wrapped around me. I want to swim! I don't care if the Emperor of the World booked the top floors. If I don't do my laps I'll never be able to sleep!

Walking back towards my room I spot the door leading to the stairwell, we're just two floors below the pool. I stop and consider my options. I can go back to my room and not sleep, or I could brave the stairs and hope no one will catch me. According to the hotel website the pool is just outside the elevators, if I'm fast I can very well make it. A mix of jet lag, boredom and the kind of recklessness that only happens in the middle of the night, has me trying the handle. It's not locked, and guessing by the fire escape sign on the door I'm assuming the other doors are unlocked too. Fluorescent light flickers to life as I start my assent, my footsteps are loud in the empty stairwell and the air is cool, chilly almost.

Holding my breath, I sneak past the first door and hope no one decides to check the stairs right now. I've no idea who's booked the top floors, I really don't care enough about the rich and famous to find out either. There are enough rich people travelling to and from New York, that it could be anyone. Hopefully they won't get too pissed if they find me in the pool at 3 AM.

Panting I make it all the way to the top, I pause at the door and allow myself to breathe before braving the corridor. Peeking out through the door tells me it's empty. No one here seems to be suffering from jet lag. I can see the glass doors leading to the outside pool, just a few quick steps across the wall to wall carpet, and I'll be in the safety of the semi-darkness outside. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and walk fast, as if I know what I'm doing and have all the right to do so. My heart is beating loudly in my ears and I expect someone to stop me. Nothing happens.

Outside is balmy, a slight wind dancing in my hair. I've been told that July in New York City can be unbearable sometimes, but right now it's kind of okay. Folding my robe and towel on one of the lounge chairs and slipping out of my flip flops I cast a glance at the large windows to the hallway. There's no sign of anyone, it's almost as if no one's here but me. Still, I gently lower myself into the water, adjust my goggles and slip beneath the surface to start my laps.

I lose count of how many laps I've done, all I know is that my muscles are tired and my mind is numb enough for me to try to get some sleep. Giving it my all, I do one final lap. I slap my hand on the tiles and pull myself up to rest my arms on the edge.
"That was fucking awesome!" The comment has me almost slipping down into the water again. I turn around to find a boy sitting on the lounge chair where I put my things. To give myself some time, I slip my goggles down to my neck and push my hair back. "Oh shit... You had no idea I was here, did you?" I shake my head. "I've been watching you the last 15 minutes or so. You're one hell of a swimmer."
"Thanks. I guess..." There's something about him, like I've seen him on TV, or maybe read something online. His blonde hair is messy, but clearly styled to be so, and he's wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts. My brain is too tired to make any connections though, I'm ready to head to bed, or at least leave the pool.

The night air is chilly and goose bumps are soon covering my arms, but getting out of the water with someone who's been watching me doing my laps feels a little weird. But fuck it, I'm tired. The breeze has me shivering when I climb the ladder and I grab my towel quickly.
"How did you get up here anyway?" He sounds almost impressed.
I shrug my shoulders. "The stairs." Wrapping the towel around me, I grab my robe and tie the belt securely around my waist. This close I can tell he's really good looking and I'm sure he knows it too. His smile has my heart doing cartwheels in my chest and I feel my cheeks blushing.
"What's your name?"
"Kajsa." I see him turning it over in his head. "It's Swedish."
His smile grows wider. "Swedish? So, Kajsa, what are you doing here in New York?" He pronounces my name as 'Kaiser' and I want to correct him, but I only shift from one foot to the other. Should I tell him about mom, or maybe just leave and go back to my room? He seems genuinely curious though.
"My mom's boyfriend's here for a conference, and she thought we'd make a shopping trip out of it." I focus on my flip flops, wishing I could make myself leave.
"How old are you?" Old enough for you to hit on.
"18." Next month.
"Cool, how long are you staying?" Why is he talking to me? Doesn't he have anything better to do? Like sleeping.
"Until Thursday." I look towards the door and pretend to yawn. "I need to get back to my room..." He gets up as to follow me. "I can find my own way back."
He chuckles. "Yeah, but you might need my help to get there." And as we step inside I see a security guard standing by the elevators. I'm in deep shit.