48. Hotel Talks - ✭ Monica ✭

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After I'm done scrubbing my face I plop on top of my bed. It's soft, comfy, but hotel rooms remind me of my time spent with Boston. I'd picked a different property than the one we'd stayed at but it didn't matter. The smell, the generic layout of the rooms, it was the same difference.

There's a knock on my door and I know it's got to be Derek. Tossing the covers off of myself I walk up to the door gingerly. If he's here this late he probably wants something I'm not sure I'm willing to give just yet. After what happened abroad, in a moment of sadness and weakness, things between us have been convoluted.

I want him but I don't know if I'm ready for that. It's been really confusing. He's extremely supportive and not to mention attractive. But there's a part of me that is guilty every time we get close, closer than what is considered normal for people who aren't in a relationship with one another.

Once I'm at the door I look down, debating if I should change into something more than just a tank top and panties. You're here to get over him. I have to remind myself often because it feels like I'm here to remember him instead, keep the memory of us alive.

When I open the door I freeze.

I blink a couple of times knowing the image in front of me, the person in front of me, can't really be here. It would be the mother of all coincidences if he is. His eyes scan down my body and I feel my cheeks flush.

"Cherry." My throat goes dry at the sound of his voice. "Can I come in?" I look down at my current state of undress and then back at him. "I've seen you just like this many times and there's also the fact I've already seen all of you." I deliberate for another moment before letting him in.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Saw you and your professor chatting in the street then caught up with him at the bar." I feel my eyes nearly bug out of my head. "He had no idea who I was."

"So then I'm confused why Derek told you my room number."

"No, Derek didn't give me your room number. The lady at the front desk did." That makes more sense. "But I did have a nice chat with him at the bar."

"About?"

"Woman problems." I arch a brow at that. "Seems like the professor is quite taken with you but you're in spousal limbo or whatever the fuck he said."

"Considering my spouse is here in my room right now, seemingly jealous even though I haven't seen him or talked to him in five months, I'd say he's not wrong." He purses his lips and looks away from me. "So that all brings me to my next question— why are you here?"

"I'm opening up a tattoo shop here."

"No, I mean in my room. What are you doing here?" I gesture to our surroundings.

He runs a hand through his hair and rocks on his heels. "That's a good question. I guess I just wanted to see you in person. I haven't seen you in person since..." Since last December, nearly ten months ago, where we had an endless amount of 'end of relationship' sex. "It's been a while." His eyes scan over my body, lingering on my underwear.

"Boston?"

"Huh?"

"My eyes are up here." He laughs at that. "I'm serious!"

"I know you are. But I know where your eyes are. They're one of your best features." His eyes roam over me again and I can't help but flush at his hungry gaze. His eyes land on another area of my body, my chest. I'm about to reprimand him again when he reaches out and grabs ahold of my necklace. He fingers the rings with a pained look on his face. "You still wear them?"

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