Page 18 of Room 710 (The Scarlet Hotel #15)

Elijah

I deserve this , I told myself, the room spinning in circles around me. I have no one to blame but myself .

After being forced to witness the budding romance between Ziggy and Devon on their solo date, their chemistry undeniable, I’d dragged Marc and Bethany downstairs to the lounge to indulge in a little late-night tipple. Just a nightcap, I told myself, a little something to take the edge off.

Except three hours later, I was two sheets into the wind, and my drinking buddies had bowed out.

“It’s past my bedtime,” Bethany had said a little before midnight. “The clock strikes 12 and I turn into a pumpkin.”

Marc had lasted another half-hour before he too had bowed out, saying, “I don’t know what has your panties in a twist, but you need to cut yourself some slack.

Whatever it is, it’s not worth this level of self-flagellation.

” He’d belched, holding a hand to his stomach, then patted me on the shoulder.

“Is it too early to call in sick for work tomorrow?”

“Don’t you dare,” I’d slurred, leaning heavily on the bar. “I know which room is yours. I’ll come and get you out of bed myself.”

I lost track of time after that. The bartender eventually had to cut me off, setting a cup of coffee in front of me. “Why don’t you call it a night,” he’d suggested.

The problem was that I could still see the imprint of that kiss on the backs of my eyelids. If I went to sleep now, I knew I would have nightmares about it all night. I needed to drink until I couldn’t think straight. That was the only answer.

So, I’d staggered up to my room and raided the mini fridge for those tiny travel-sized bottles of whiskey, then moved through the vodka and gin, with a splash of overpriced Coke to wash it down.

The combination of alcohol and sugar turned into a toxic sludge in my stomach that would no doubt be making its reappearance sooner rather than later.

I flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, but it turned out that was the worst possible position to be in right now, so I rolled back up to standing and staggered into the dresser, banging my hip hard enough that I knew there would be an awful bruise tomorrow, which I would no doubt forget how I got.

“Water,” I mumbled. “I need water.” Staggering into the bathroom, I turned the tap to cold and cupped my hands under the faucet, trying to slurp it up, but I ended up with more water splashed over my face and shirt than I did in my mouth.

Turning off the tap, I straightened up as best I could and looked at myself in the mirror. My skin had a sallow tinge to it, deep bags under my eyes, and the day’s whiskers left me looking rough and tired. My shirt was drenched all down the front, clinging to my chest.

I stared into my gray eyes, my shoulders sagging.

“He kissed him,” I slurred, bracing myself with my hands splayed on the counter, the cold stone chilling my overheated skin.

“He… fucked him.” I didn’t know that for sure, since there were no cameras in the room, but how could he not?

They were two consenting adults, single and good-looking. Why wouldn’t they?

The mere thought made the contents of my stomach turn sour, bile creeping up my throat.

I should’ve said something sooner. Should’ve told Ziggy I was interested.

Maybe we could’ve… No. As long as he was a cast member, my hands were tied.

If I was lucky, maybe Ziggy would get eliminated, and then I could ask him on a date. Yeah, it was possible…

If Devon was completely blind!

When my stomach gave another queasy lurch, I crouched down and put my head between my knees.

I was so out of it, I swore I could hear Ziggy’s voice in my head.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a good time,” he said.

Did alcohol induce hallucinations? It would be a dream come true to have him thank me for a good time.

But then I heard Devon say, “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” It took me a moment to realize he was saying good night to him at his door, just down the hallway, and I lurched unevenly to my door and went to look through the peephole with a thump, but I misjudged the distance and connected with the solid wood with a sharp thud.

Great, that’ll be another bruise to explain tomorrow , I thought, rubbing my forehead. By the time I managed to get my peek through the fish-eye lens, it was to see Devon turning back to wave, and I swore I saw hearts in his eyes.

Regret was too small a word to describe the blind rage that filled me.

“Fuck!” I shouted, pivoting and punching the wall.

But the thing about these old buildings was they were built sturdy, and instead of sinking my fist into the drywall, I came up short, knuckles cracking against plaster.

“ Fuckingfuckityfuck! ” I shouted, kicking the door, which wasn’t much better since I wasn’t wearing shoes.

Now I was hopping around on one foot, cradling my hand to my chest, none of which was easy when the room was still doing laps around my head.

I had just whacked my shoulder into the wall when I heard “Hello?” Ziggy’s voice made me whimper with longing. I was hearing things for sure this time. “Eli? Are you okay?” He couldn’t possibly be here, as worried about me as his voice sounded.

But then there was a gentle knock on the door. “Eli, please open the door.”

Reaching out with my good hand, I slowly turned the lock and opened the door.

Standing in the hallway was the most beautiful vision I’d ever seen.

Ziggy, his cheeks flushed, eyes crinkled in concern, was standing there in the same shirt and pants he’d worn to his date.

“I heard a thump… then a bang, some swearing, and then another thump. Are you okay?” His dark eyes roved over my body, looking for injuries.

I moved my hand behind my back so he couldn’t see it, but it was too late. He gasped, stepping through the doorway, and grabbed my elbow to draw my hand back. “What happened?” he asked, touching my knuckles tenderly.

“The wall owes me money,” I joked lamely, nodding toward the cracked plaster.

He frowned, looking back and forth between my fist and the wall, then leaned in close to take a sniff. “You’re drunk,” he said, rearing back when he caught a whiff of the booze I was no doubt sweating from my pores.

“Well, yeah,” I admitted, “but can you blame me?” I shook my head, my brain sloshing around inside my skull.

The alcohol made everything feel blurry and dreamlike, erasing whatever filters I might’ve had.

“I had to watch you… and him… together. And then you were together , and it just hurt so much,” I slurred.

There was no way he couldn’t understand what I meant by the way I emphasized the word.

I listed dangerously to one side, but Ziggy grabbed me by the waist and steadied me.

His hands were so warm I could feel them through the thin material of my shirt, and I closed my eyes, relishing the contact, no matter how brief.

I sighed heavily, my body too heavy to keep upright.

The alcohol was taking its toll on both mind and body, and I found myself saying things I would never say sober.

“I thought I had everything just the way I liked it, but then you walked into my life and blew it all to hell. You make me lose control, Ziggy. I don’t like it. ”

“Really? You always seem perfectly in control.” He sounded like he was teasing me, and when I cracked my eyes open, there was a playful twist to his lips.

It made a small dimple appear, and I had the urge to drag my tongue through the divot.

If I weren’t so drunk, the mere thought would’ve gotten me hard.

Now, though, it just made me feel hot and sweaty.

“I usually am. But then you came along, with your laugh and your smile and your… you,” I said, gesturing to his whole body. “You’re nothing like I expected and everything I never knew to hope for. And I always knew you were perfect for the show, but it turns out, you’re perfect for me too.”

His smile slipped away, leaving him looking more serious than I’d ever seen him on screen.

Gods, he was so much better in person. I’d never been this close to him before, close enough to breathe in his scent, something crisp, like green apples and grass after a rain shower.

I devoured the tiny details I’d never noticed before.

The flecks of gold in his eyes, the curl of his long eyelashes, the pink glow of too much sun over his cheekbones that made him look like he was caught in a perpetual blush.

“You shouldn’t say things you’ll regret in the morning,” he said, and I couldn’t understand why he sounded sad or regretful.

“The only thing I’ll regret is that you still won’t be mine.” Ziggy’s arms dropped to his sides, and he took a quick step back, and without his support, my knees buckled, and I sat down heavily on the floor, wincing. “I think I might be drunker than I thought.”

“Oh, Eli. What am I going to do with you.” Ziggy sighed, staring down at me.

And then, he nodded like he’d made a decision and headed for the door.

He was leaving me. I should’ve been used to it by now, but it still hurt like a bitch to think of him walking away, back to his room, the show.

Back to Devon and their picture-perfect future.

Except instead of leaving, Ziggy closed the door and locked it, then disappeared into my suite’s bathroom.

I heard water running, and when he reemerged, he had a wet cloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

He crouched down beside me and pressed the cloth to my forehead.

I sighed at the momentary relief it brought.

“Do you need help getting up?” he asked, rising back up.

I blinked dumbly up at him, my drunk brain at a loss about this change in direction. “Are you… staying?” I asked.

“Would you rather I leave?”

“No, no!” I said quickly, scrambling to get to my feet, gravity and alcohol in an all-out brawl for domination over my body. I clenched my teeth and fought to stay upright simply because he’d asked if I could. I swore I could’ve flown right now if he’d asked me to.

“Here, drink this,” he said, pushing the glass into my hand.

I took a few sips of water, but the cold liquid hit my stomach like a lead weight, and I quickly passed it back to him.

My stomach let out an angry gurgle. Ziggy and I shared a wide-eyed look before bile began to inch its way up my esophagus.

I slapped a hand over my mouth and ran for the bathroom.

Thankfully, it seemed my legs worked just fine under pressure.

“Eli, wait! Let me—”

I slammed the door shut behind me, refusing to let Ziggy see me like this.

The expensive price tag on the hotel room unfortunately didn’t make the pristine tiles any gentler on the knees as I dropped to the floor, but at least the toilet was spotless and had a floral smell.

My sides heaved until I was sore and breathless.

I couldn’t say how long I was in there. Could’ve been ten minutes or two hours, but after purging the alcohol from my stomach, I felt a million times better.

My legs were still as shaky as one of the newborn calves on my dads’ farm, but at least the room had stopped spinning.

I took the time to brush my teeth and gargle some of the complimentary mouthwash, then left my clothes in a heap on the floor and changed into the robe hanging on the back of the door.

The room was quiet when I stepped back out. I honestly expected to find Ziggy had left. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Instead, I found him lying on the bed, eyes closed and his breathing slow and even. He looked so peaceful, innocent.

I knew I should wake him up and send him on his way, but I found myself lying down beside him, careful not to jostle the mattress.

I left plenty of space between us and we were both dressed, but I couldn’t bring myself to let him leave yet.

In time, I told myself, I could accept that he wasn’t mine, if only I could be close to him like this… for just a little longer…

Or for as long as he would let me.