8Harry8
“One room, please.” I told the man at the front desk. I found a hotel that went by the name of ‘The Quality Inn’. It looked like a good and safe place to lay my head down for a few days.
The man on the other side of the desk frowned. “I’m sorry, sir. This hotel is occupied right now.” He told me.
“Of course it’s occupied, it’s a hotel. I just need a room.” I explained.
He shook his head at me. “I’m sorry, sir but there are no rooms available at the moment.” He told me.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I said more to myself. “Well, is there any more hotels near here?” I asked the man desperate to find a place to stay. There’s no way I wanted to stay out on the streets.
“Unfortunately, there’s not one for miles. You would have to go all the to the Westend to find a hotel.” He explained. “Hopefully tomorrow we’ll have some rooms and if you want, I could put you on the waiting list and perhaps give you a call when one is available.” He suggested.
“I don’t have a phone.” I mumbled.
“Pardon me, sir but come again.” The man said, obviously not hearing me the first time.
“I don’t have a phone.” I said loud enough for him to hear me.
“Well, uh…Hey, I’ll tell you what, come back tomorrow at 5:00 and I’ll see if I have one for you. If one becomes vacant, I’ll save it for you.” He told me. “If I’m not here, I’ll be sure to leave your name for whoever is here.” He told me as he pulled out a folder and rummaged through it until he found a blank piece of paper.
“Harry…Harry Styles.” I told him. He wrote it in big letters making sure that whoever saw it knew who I was. He also attached a note to it and told me if he finds a vacant room, he’d put the number on it. “Thank you…” I looked closely at his name tag. “Josh. I really appreciate this.” I told him.
“No problem. A room is $65 a night. A week is $220. But I’m sure you know that already.”
“Yeah, I uh, I know.” I nervously said. “Have a nice day.” I told him before finding myself on the street once more. Where am I to go? I have nowhere to go. I only have one friend, but I don’t think he wants to even see me. Doesn’t hurt to check, does it?
It took me an hour and thirty minutes to walk all the way to his house. I saw the black and white motorcycle, which he used to let me drive, in his driveway. I took a few deep breaths before walking up and knocking on his door. A part of me wanted to turn around and leave his mind to wander about who it was who had knocked on his door. Another part of me needed to someone to talk to, a friend to lean on. We’ve known each other for a long time and I’m sure he wouldn’t turn me down. After a few seconds, Nick came to the door.
