Golden Boy

T W E L E V E

I didn't know how I felt about having to stay at a hotel tonight with the guys. I figured it was better than going back to their house in Ardsley since a hotel is neutral ground where I won't feel like I'm intruding. The other part of me felt uncomfortable simply because I've never stayed at a hotel without my parents. I'm sure if they ever found out that I was getting a room by myself that a boy paid for, they would flip out and assume the worst. 

Regardless, I knew that I had to get used to the different situations I would be thrown into without any warning. It would have been nicer if they had told me this morning that we weren't returning to their house at the end of the day so that I could have brought a change of clothes. 

My eyes lingered on the length of the building as we pulled up to the Hyatt Hotel. It was a beautiful glass building that looked expensive. I've never stayed in a hotel in the City since we've always had family we could stay with, so this was a new experience. The hotel even had a valet, which I found unusual. Bev grabbed some bags from the back and handed me one to carry that I recognized as the one Jace had packed from my house, which eased some of my anxiety about staying here tonight.

Bev, the responsible adult, checked us all in, handing me my separate room key, and I watched in amusement as it dawned on Jace that he would be sharing a room. Thankfully, we were separated by a hall, rather than just a wall. 

The hotel room was small, just big enough to fit a queen-sized bed, a small dresser, and an armchair in a corner. The on-suite bathroom was big enough just to fit the necessities with about a foot of extra walking space. The view of downtown was breath-taking, making the tight quarters worth it.  I was going to enjoy sleeping here, even if it was just for one night. 

It was almost 10 pm when we had checked in, so I was getting ready for bed when I heard a knock at my door. Behind the peephole was Jace, dressed in a black button-down shirt and jeans. His hair was wet and dripping above his eyes. 

"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked after swinging open the door. He let himself in and made his way straight into the bathroom, a bottle of hair product in one hand and a paper towel in the other. 

"We're going out. Why aren't you ready yet?" He applied a good amount of curly hair products to his hair and used the paper towel to scrunch out the excess. 

"What do you mean we're going out? To where?" I asked, leaning against the doorway into the bathroom. 

"A club a couple of blocks from here."

"Do you really think I want to party after what you did to me last night?"

He looked up to make eye contact with me through the mirror. "Don't make it sound like that."

"Like what? Traumatizing? Because that's what it was." 

"Everything about this life is traumatizing. Believe it or not, I'm trying to protect you from that."

"You're doing a swell job; keep up the good work."

"I didn't come in here to argue with you—"

"No, just to invade my space so that you could do your hair."

"You don't mind, right?" He glanced back at me again, a hand in his hair. 

"It's fine—you can finish."  

"Thanks," he resumed working on his hair. "Aren't you going to get ready?" He caught me looking at him in the mirror.

"Do I have to go?"

"Yea, I can't let you pass up a fun night."

"You don't exactly have a track record of being honest with me. The last time you invited me to a party, you drugged and then kidnapped me."