Short Stories Collection

Hotel Hatred

Short stories. Updated when I can. Please no hate and recommendations or edits are highly appreciated. :)

***

He threw a pair of small chrome keys onto a jet black desk like he owned the place. 

And maybe he did?

I didn't expect it. 

I stood, utterly shocked when he ended up right in front of me, looking cross at the heavy rainfall, out of the room's circular bay window. 

He shot a bad boy glance my way, with his hands deep in his pockets, acting as if I didn't care why I was here, or who I was, I didn't care anyway about who he was, so I casually read my unread texts, then replied slowly.

Obviously with this tall and build almost golden tanned guy in front of me, I lost my focus quickly. I guess I was lying that I didn't care who he was. I totally cared too much, and I despised the feeling.

Without a second glance at me, he listed rules of the hotel, hours that the waitresses worked, and when it was best to do my laundry. 

"Wow, mood killer ."  I thought dryly.

Meanwhile, I was lost thinking about all the girls that must have complimented his eyes, and facial structure. His eyes a piercing brown but a dark and attractive kind looked to the floor, they were dark but not horror movie dark. Almost an olive black, of eyes, that could read my mind.

He had romantically arched eyebrows, mischievously almost as If to make sure I was listening, I wasn't really but he didn't seem to realize. When he raised them, somehow it fit his face.

I saw his soft thin lips that curled just right, and he was dressed in a tight navy blue button-down work shirt.

I could it imagine constrained his awfully toned torso. 

I scolded my behaviour.

As if the grin he flashed boldly wasn't distracting enough, I sighed internally at his eyes which were checking me out.

He was scanning up and down my capris, LA sunglasses, Ardene knit grey sweater and tan wedges.

He stopped talking which made me glad. His expression looking puzzled as ever, faced my large mess that some would call a makeup cart explosion.

Yet, a glint of suspicion wandered around in his eyes too. 

He started rummaging in my hotel room, and I felt instantly violated, my annoyance bubbled like a kettle containing steaming water.

Fixing my fluffy light red hair in a compact mirror, I wondered who this guy, five steps away from me, was, and why he had such a disdained look as he sorted my bed, changing the thin white sheets.

I honestly expected a woman cleaner, since that's what I was told I'd have when I arrived. So when a tan guy with an all-American accent, a snobby demeanour,  pleasant appearance, barreled in looking crisp, as if he was going to a top-notch dinner with the Prime minister.

Didn't I get a right to feel appalled and caught off guard?

He did have handsome qualities, (I could list until I died), that seemed illegal and too hot to handle, but his unapologetic, disrespectful mannerisms when meeting me, was something I couldn't tolerate.

I must have grew redder by the minute.

"Seriously?" I questioned tossing my hands up, flustered and peeved.

I'd never met a guy with such a disregard for women's clothes, politeness or disrespect to knocking on doors. The guy just tossed my bras and clothing to the corner of my bathroom floor!