Born to Die - Drew Starkey

5. Juliette

I was running through the streets of Charleston, him right on my heels.

I kept glancing back. His thick eyebrows low against his eyes, smile widened ear to ear as he chased me.

Pounding erupted in my head, I thought a headache was coming on, then I sat up rapidly and gasped.

"Marshall's here!" I yelled out and then realized I was staring at the wall of my motel room, and the pounding was someone knocking on the door.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes and stumbling out of bed.

Why the fuck was I dreaming that?

I opened the door tiredly, barely registering anything.

"I'll let you cover up." I heard Drew say.

My eyes adjusted to the harsh lighting and he turned his body away from me.

I looked down at myself and saw my clothes. Jesus Christ.

I quickly went to the bed and put a pillow over my bottoms. I was only in a tank and underwear.

"What do you want?" I yawned, the pillow pressed into my pelvis.

Drew turned back and laughed a little. "Why did you yell that Marshall was here?"

I yawned through a laugh. "I was dreaming that he was chasing me through the streets."

"Wh—" he started to question, but brushed it off through a laugh. "I was just curious what time your check out is."

I leaned my head against the doorframe and looked down at my breasts that were haphazardly hanging in my tank top.

Drew followed my gaze and smiled a little.

I blushed, fixing them so they looked perkier and prettier, then answered, "Eleven."

"Cool. Mines at four, so I was going to offer to keep your bags in my room, since we don't get our trailers until tonight," he said kindly.

"That's really nice," I admired and looked back at my bags.

"So, can I take a bag?" He looked behind me. "Or two or three or seven?"

I stepped back so he could come inside and he shook his head at me.

"Seven suitcases?" He continued.

"Plus a smaller carry on, and a personal item." I pointed.

"Jesus," he whispered. "What do you need that takes seven suitcases?"

I cleared my throat and hoisted the pillow up since it was slipping. I pointed, "tank tops and bras. Underwear, socks, shorts, and some pants. Workout attire and pajamas. Makeup and toiletries. Sweaters and sweatshirts. Going out clothes. And some personal things in the last one."

Drew took a long exhale. "Alright. Easy enough," he brushed his hands against his legs. "Do you need any of them this morning? I can bring some up now."

"I just need those two," I pointed.

He nodded in understanding and pulled up the handle of two of my bags and started to wheel them out.

"What's in this one, rocks?" He laughed.

I smiled. "No, it's some artwork." I said plainly, taking my pillow to my backside so I could stride into the kitchen to use the shittiest coffee maker ever.

"Why do you need artwork?" He asked as he maneuvered them towards the door.

"For decorating my trailer," I explained, using one hand to open up the bag of coffee grounds.