If At First

Part 4 - Chapter 3

3

Voices mumbled nearby before I was able to distinguish anything intelligible, but my eyes flew open at the sound of a man's very close voice. I was lying on a sofa in a sitting area just outside the elevator, a total stranger leaning over me. I began to panic, and gasped, shivering.

"You're cold." He said with frustrating calm.

"Who-" I demanded from the face gazing starry-eyed at me. "Who are you?"

"Relax, you're fine." He looked around, and as an afterthought added, "Probably." And smiled enormously. "You fell or something in the elevator. We weren't sure what else to do with you and it seemed weird to take you all the way into the hotel room."

"'We'?" I looked around.

"Just lay there a sec., Haven stepped away to get some help."

"Help for what? What happened?"

"Ya got me, you walked into our elevator and just crumpled up. Haven caught you when you went down, but it was my idea to bring you up here." He boasted. "That's a pretty nasty bump on your head, do you have a fainting problem? Isn't there a name for that?" He frowned, concentrating. "Narcolepsy!"

From across the hall, I heard a vaguely recognizable voice say, "No Doug, narcolepsy is an inability to control when you fall asleep." I could hear a smile in the voice now. "But I'm afraid the bump on her head was my fault."

I sat bolt upright at the sound of the approaching voice, and my head spun from the movement.

"How's the bump your fault?" The closer one scoffed, clearly annoyed by the fallacy. "She didn't hit her head."

"Gas-station-guy?" I whispered tactlessly, and instantly hoped it was too quiet for anyone to hear.

"What?" The closer one laughed.

My head was throbbing. Literally throbbing. "No- nothing...uh, I'm Tabitha."

"Oh! Sorry, I'm Doug. And this is Haven." He stood and walked over to his friend as I looked over at Haven, who seemed to be keeping a careful distance.

"Do you want to come in and lay down?" Doug invited.

"No." I answered a little too quickly.

Haven smacked him on the arm and rolled his eyes. I couldn't tell if it was for frightening me, or for keeping me here longer.

Doug ignored him and continued, "Well, like I said, we didn't know what to do with you. You didn't have any I.D. or a phone, only your room key but no number on it. And we're not exactly experts when it comes to girls passing out in elevators." He returned to my side, inching a little closer, and looking at me in a way that made me uncomfortable.

"I thought you might be cold," Haven said, placing a folded robe and a glass of orange juice on a table between us. "Someone is on their way up to have a look at you."

"Thank you," I said, allowing myself to look at him fully now. It was definitely gas-station-guy. It didn't look like he shaved since the last time I saw him, and if possible, he was even better looking than I remembered. He leaned idly against a chair, his statuesque exterior barely concealing an intensity blazing behind his cerulean eyes. I felt my pulse quicken and again had to make a conscious effort not to stare.

I shook my head. "I'm fine, really. No one needs to come up." I sipped at the orange juice, grateful to have something to do with my hands. "I can make it back on my own."

"I insist." A little crinkle appeared between his brows. "My personal physician is on his way."

Was that concern for me or himself? What does he think I'm going to do, sue him?