Love, Romance And A Boy (bxb)

Part Four

Part Four

•••

Scott looks at me with a mischievous glint as he slowly pulls his shirt over his head.

I sit cross-legged on the hotel bed, idly scrolling through my social media feed, which is surprisingly mundane tonight.

He's deliberately undressing in front of me, his movements calculated to test my resolve — to see if I'll give him the reaction he wants. But I won't make it that easy for him.

Despite my protests to myself, I find myself stealing glances between my phone screen and his chiseled physique. It's unnerving how effortlessly he flaunts his athletic build. I wonder how many people he has charmed like this before.

Standing before me in nothing but his Spiderman boxers, I struggle to suppress a laugh at the sight. He rolls his eyes playfully and crosses his arms over his chest.

"What's so funny?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I stifle a grin behind my hand. "Your choice of boxers is quite something. It's like you're trying to bring back your childhood."

"Hey," he retorts with mock offense, pointing a finger at me. "There's nothing wrong with Spiderman boxers, okay? They make me look cool and... sexy."

He growls the last word, sending an unexpected ripple of attraction through me. Damn, he knows how to turn on the charm.

Shaking my head, I try to regain my composure. "Keep dreaming, Scott. It suits you," I reply with a wry smile. "Definitely suits you."

He rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. "You know that's not true," he retorts, a playful edge in his voice. "Denial is just stage one. You'll come around eventually."

"You're impossible," I concede, my tone betraying a mix of amusement and genuine exasperation. "Go take your shower and take as much time as you need."

He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright." His chuckle is infectious. "I'll see you in twenty," he adds with a cheeky grin and a wink.

What is it with him tonight?

As he disappears behind the bathroom door, I take a moment to check my phone again, hoping for a reply from Jason. Nothing yet. The silence is starting to gnaw at me. Maybe I'm just overthinking it, but the uncertainty lingers.

My eyes sweep the room—everything neatly packed and meticulously arranged. A small oak coffee table and two chairs occupy a corner, brown curtains drawn back to reveal the bustling city below.

Sinking into the soft quilt, I relish its comforting touch amidst the faint hum of distant chatter and passing vehicles.

Staring at the ceiling, I confront the reality of my mother's impending marriage to a near-stranger. Admitting my discomfort feels selfish, knowing she deserves happiness after my father's passing, while I'm still mourning.

But her moving on is inevitable, perhaps even necessary. My concern for her happiness outweighs my reservations. Still, I'm not ready for this change.

The bathroom door swings open slowly, creaking softly in the silence that has settled between us over the past hour. I shoot him a wary glance from where I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting.