Oblivion

Chapter 8

I stare out the window and watch the different buildings pass by, I haven't said a word to Paxton since I left the diner. I hate men sometimes.

"You can't ignore me forever." Paxton says.

I ignore him and keep my eyes on the moving buildings.

Paxton sighs.

"Look, I'm sorry. I get it, what I did was wrong."

I give him no reaction.

"I apologized to her. I told her I was a jerk just like you said. I told her she deserves a much better guy." He adds.

I finally looked over at him, he had one hand on the steering wheel and the other rested on the armrest in between us.

We stop at a red light and he looks over at me.

"I'm sorry Ivy."

I stare into his blue eyes, confused.

I didn't know I had so much control over him. He barely knew me, yet he listened to me.

"It's okay." I reply before looking away from him.

I'm not gonna get attached to him. I already made that mistake before, I'm not gonna do it again.

~~~~~~

"This is a nice hotel." Paxton states as we step out of the car.

We finally made it to New York, thank god.

I grabbed my duffel bag and put it over my shoulders.

I went to reach for my suitcase but another hand beat me.

"Here I'll get that for you." A gentle deep voice says.

I looked up and saw a brunette boy in a fancy black uniform. He had hazel eyes and was smiling at me with his dimple showing on his right cheek.

"Thank you." I reply.

Paxton grabbed his stuff already and was waiting for me.

The boy closed the trunk of our car and looked at me.

"Is that all of your stuff?" He asks.

"Uh yeah."

"Oh okay. Well I'm Harry." He says putting his hand out for me to shake.

"Ivy." I replied by taking his hand and shaking it.

"Will you just do your job and take us to our room?" Paxton interrupts.

"Of course sir, let me take you to the front desk." Harry responds.

He guides us through the big hotel doors, into the lobby that had people sitting and standing around talking.

It smelled sweet, like a vanilla pumpkin scented candle.

Harry brings us to the front desk where a lady who looked to be in her mid-thirties was.

She looked up at us and smiled.

"Hello! Did you guys rent a room?" She spoke in a cheerful tone.

"Hey Mary, these two said they rented a room here, so I was gonna take them." Harry tells her.

"Oh okay, last name?" Mary asks us.

"William Clark." Paxton replies.

Mary types on her keyboard and presses buttons with her mouse.

"Oh, there you are!" She says.

"Room 305." She says grabbing a key from behind her.

She hands the key card to Harry who takes it and thanks her.

"Follow me, guys." He says, leading us to the elevator.

We all walk into the elevator and Harry presses the 3rd-floor button.

It goes silent for a bit until Paxton speaks up.

"So how old are you Harold?"

"Uh, 18." Harry responds.

Paxton nods.

"Are you always this annoying?" Paxton says annoyed.

"Paxton." I say sternly.

"No I'm curious, he didn't have any problem talking with us like we all were best friends." Paxton responds.

"He's doing his job." I say, annoyed.

"Don't answer him, Harry."

Harry nods and looks away from Paxton.

The elevator doors finally open and we all step out into a long hallway.

"Your room's down here." Harry says, leading us down the hallway.

Paxton and I walk side by side behind Harry.

"Why didn't you get two rooms?" I question.

"I couldn't all of them we're booked, this one was the only one." He says.

"How many beds?"

"Two."

I nod.

Paxton chuckles.

"Here's your room." Harry states as we stop in front of a door.

He puts the key card into the door handle and pushes the door open.

"Thank's Harry." I say walking in.

"You can go." Paxton says as he takes my suitcase from Harry.

Paxton walks into the room, closing the door behind him.

"I hate people who are named Harry." Paxton notes as he places my suitcase against the wall.

I roll my eyes and take my leather jacket off.

"This is my bed." I state as I jump on the bed closer to the giant windows that showed a gorgeous view of the city.

"Okay."

"What time is it?" I ask Paxton.

Paxton pulls out his phone.

"8:30."

"Can we get dinner?" I ask.

"Sure."