Robbie Kay Imagines

A Good Trip. (RAK)

Today is the day that you're finally leaving. You double check your purse and suitcase for what seems like the thousandth time this hour, and see if your passport is in fact in your purse, which of course it was. It's honestly ridiculous how excited you are for this trip.

"Where are my god damn shoes?" you're roommate and best friend Hanna screams from her bedroom. You roll your eyes at her horrible habit of procrastinating, and walk over to her room.

"Which shoes?" You bite your lip, holding in any escaping laughter as you look at your flustered roommate. She's sitting in her closet, piles upon piles of clothes scattered around her. Her blonde hair is a matted mess on top of her head, and her makeup is smudged because of blistering heat that radiates from her floor heater.

"The red vans. They have white shoelaces," she explains as she continues to dig through her endless collection of shoes.

"Uhh, I haven't seen them. Sorry."

Hanna groans once more before throwing down her box of shoes to the floor and crawling through her closet. "They have to be here somewhere."

"Well hurry the hell up," you laugh while walking out her door. As you make your way to your living room, a loud knock comes from the front door. "I think Jess is here," you call out to Hanna.

"Well tell her to sit her ass down and wait because I'm gonna need fifteen more minutes," she yells back, slamming the door behind her.

Praying to God that Hanna will acquire some time management skills, you make your way towards the door. As you open it up, your breathing hitches in your throat. Instead of Jess's long black curls, you're met with a familiar head of bronze hair.

"Robbie?" He looks up from his phone, his gorgeous smile that could cure cancer smiling down at you.

"Hello," he says, his voice sounding angelic to your ears, the perfect combination of smooth and sexy, his British accent adding a bit of elegance to his voice. It was one of your favorite sounds in the world.

"What are you doing here?" As you ask this, he pushes through your door and towards your bedroom. He takes a seat on your bed, his eyes locked on your packed suitcase.

"I heard you were going on vacation," he says, voice deadpanned. You look around your room, a sudden wave of discomfort overtaking your body. You arms wrap around your torso as your teeth bite into the corner of your lip.

"Yeah. Cancun, for the week." Your eyes don't want to look his way. His scent of evergreen and cleanliness overtakes your senses in the most alluring way possible.

"Ah. I heard it's nice there."

"Yeah."

The silence between the two of you is awkward. Neither one of you looking at each other. He's still seated on your bed as you stand next to your dresser, leaning on it. The door to your bedroom is shut, but you can still hear the shower running.

You glance up at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in his appearance. He looks ridiculously good today, in just a simple gray shirt and jeans, yet it looks heavenly on him. The way his body sits on your bed is enticing as hell, and with every ounce of sensibility and restraint you have left inside of you, you refrain yourself from doing something you know you will regret later.

The silence is deafening. You open your mouth to speak, the words struggling to come out. "What- why are you here, Robbie?"

He looks up at you from his steady stare on his linked fingers. His rosy lips are pursed as he holds back a smirk. He coughs, rubbing his neck with the back of his hand, and straightening up his posture.