Stuck | 18+

Chapter 59

He clutched her tighter, heedlessly crushing her body as he didn't hear a single hiss of complaint. He felt the sunrays that warmed his exposed legs while he remained cold under the sheet, with her. 

With her?

His inner voice asked in reluctance. 

As his hands roamed over her skin, he felt the unusual softness of the fabric, unlike the gentleness he was used to. When his eyes finally opened in confusion, he realized the woman he held dearly on to, was in fact a cushion she had furtively ushered in his arms. As if he had touched the sizzling lava, he swung the cushion away, off the bed, irritated that it was anything but her. His narrow, sleepy gaze swept across the room only to find it impeccably clean, as if this wasn't the same suite they had created a mess in. 

For a second, he wondered whether this indeed was the same suite but when tens of mirrors glanced back at him through his eyes, he knew there wasn't any place like this on the entire planet. He peeked his ears to catch up on any sound from the bathroom but when he realized there was none, he called her name in his groggy voice, hearing it echo back to himself, making it painfully clear he was the only one to listen to himself. He felt the sudden current of bolt that goaded him into standing upright in the moment. The sleep in his eyes bid its farewell as he hurriedly put his pants on, striding in the bathroom's direction to make sure she certainly was not there. 

When he returned his heart beats had rose, his jaw ticked in unimaginable concern. He reached for his phone to see whether her phone would ring, when besides his device laid a small note with tattered edges. He pulled the note from under his cell roughly, bringing it closer to read the crabbed words, her handwriting far too worse to be matching her personality. 

in kitchen, is all it said, terse and specific, stipulating everything he needed to know. He exhaled, brushing his wild curls back through his fingers, still holding the crumpled paper in his hand. He couldn't but notice that it was the first time he read her handwriting. Her letters had adhered to each other far more miserably, he hardly fathomed that "in" and "kitchen" were two separate words. Someone had to be a medley of clumsiness and lovingly angry person to be writing the way she had.

 His neck turned to the door, watching as she walked in, carefully pushing the door with her shoulder to not spill the contents of the two cups in her hand. 

She did not, even accidently spare him a glance when she  walked to the window, watching her  cups as if her life depended on them. Setting them with just as much sincerity she finally looked up to him, her eyebrows furrowing at the way he pressed his lips in amusement. 

"You know you can order things up right?" He inquired amusingly,  

"You don't want to drink the coffee I made?" she said, handing him his cup of strong coffee, feigning strong expressions.

He knew she didn't mean no harm, but the way she jumped on conclusions, or at least pretended to, was going to be the death of him one day. He decided to keep quiet for now, not wanting to sprinkle oil in her ignited hormones early in the morning.  

Holding her tea in both of her hands, she took a sip, facing the window as it profligately threw a sun bath their way. He leaned on the glass beside her, yet again enjoying the view she offered, her black loose strands shining brown in the sun, her soft plump lips pressing gently on the cup. 

And then, out of the blue, he remembered it. He stood up straight, making his way to the drawer beside the bed. For a moment, she looked back as he rummaged through his stuff but decided to focus back on the view, appreciating the abundant vitamin D. 

Soon enough, she felt his hand on her back as he swiftly moved them to the one side, sliding something on her neck. She felt the metallic coldness of the chain as it ever so softly trickled on her neck. He adjusted it slightly before fixing it behind her head. Her hand instinctively abandoned the cup in the window, eagerly tracing the pedant on her neck.