The Quiet Ones [g x g]

Chapter 5

  We kind of drive around a bit, I mean, who thought it would take so much effort just to find a fucking hotel? But it does, and the one hotel we find is expensive. Extremely expensive. There's no way we can afford that.

"This is fine," Caitlyn announces as we pull in.

"Are you kidding me? There's no way we can afford this!"

Caitlyn casts me a sidelong look, "You, maybe. Me? Not so much."

I huff, but you can't exactly argue with the designated driver. Maybe if it had been me driving . . .

It doesn't matter anyway.

We head in, do all the necessary things, and head up to our room. Honestly, it's really quite boring. But the room is nice, so that's a bonus, I guess. I'm not really sure of anything at this point, seeing as Caitlyn insisted to pay for everything. I didn't have to spare a cent. So that's weird.

I'm used to selfishness. That is, scavenging every cent.

The other rooms are separated from the living room - thing. Not sure what the proper word is, so I kinda thought, eh, fuck it. I'm calling it the living room.

It's pretty average I guess. Everything is in creams, whites, and varying shades of beige. There are two couches and a tv, but that's literally it.

"So," I say, dumping my bag on the couch and sitting down.

"So."

"Nice place," I gesture around the room in general.

"I guess. Is this what you're limiting our conversation to? Menial topics of nice weather we've got here and yes my aunt is doing quite well, thanks for asking." She stares at me. "It's disgusting."

"Fine, then. What's your favourite animal?"

Caitlyn sort of looks at me for a second. She looks surprised. "Ducks," She says after a moment of silence.

I nod my head, and we lapse back into silence.

"Do you listen to Panic! at the Disco?" I ask.

Shrugs, "I guess. Not much, though. I quite like I Constantly Thank God For Esteban, so, I mean."

I grin, "Dude. Panic! is, like, one of my favourite bands. Actually I have pretty much all of the albums on my phone."

Caitlyn leans forward, "Dude! No way. You gotta play it."

I grin, "Good thing I brought my speaker, huh?" I scroll through the music on my phone, all the way down the A Fever You Can't Sweat Out.

I Write Sins Not Tragedies starts playing, and Caitlyn just fucking grins.

The song is turned all the way up, I'm fairly sure that whoever is in the next room can hear us, but hey, no one's complaining, so I mean . . .

"Oh, well imagine, as I'm pacing the pews—"

Caitlyn hoots and we join in the song. It's a fucking shit show, but it's great all the same. It's fucking iconic.

Well, we should go and stake out our rooms," I say, already heading out to find the best bedroom.

"Uh," I call out to where I know Caitlyn is in the living room. "We may have a problem."

"Why?" Caitlyn asks, appearing behind me. "What's wrong?"

"Well," I say, gesturing helplessly around me, "We kind of only have one bedroom and therefore only one bed."

"So, what are we supposed to do?"