18 Months -- Michael Langdon x Reader

Chapter Five

You and Michael walked down the streets of Louisiana, still hand-in-hand. It was a Saturday night, and all around you colors of purple, blue, pink, yellow, and green burst to life. Buildings were roaring with music, mixing in with quieter sounds of the street-artists; but together, they sounded spectacular, and like one, whole sound. People brushed past the two of you, laughing loudly amongst themselves in their own private bubbles. To them, you and Michael didn't exist, and all that mattered was securing their next drink. If Michael hadn't been gripping your hand so tightly, you were sure you would've lost one another by now.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Michael shouted, as the two of you passed by a group of street performers. You waited until you were a few feet away, and no longer had to shout, before answering.

"Yeah, of course I do. There's this place, only like 100$ a night, that just a few blocks away. Not the best hotel around bu-"

"No. If we're going to a hotel, we're going to a good one," Michael interjected, and you sputtered at the thought. You couldn't even afford to take the Canal through the hell that was New Orleans, and truthfully, the thought of even spending more than 70$ for a roof over your head for the night was appalling.

"Michael, we don't have any money! I've got 115$ in my pocket, and that's it!" you harshly whispered, making sure nobody around heard you. "We can't afford anywhere else."

"We don't have to. Just let me do the talking." Michael's implications were clear enough- he was the Alpha now, he held power that nobody else did. If Michael wanted to stay in the fucking Ritz down the street, than the two of you were staying in the Ritz.

It only took you twenty minutes to get to the grand, Ritz Carlton on Canal St. You just stood there for a minute, staring up at the light-blue hotel in absolute awe. You'd walked past it a handful of times in the past, but never actually went inside. Michael squeezed your hand, gaining your attention, and with a simple tug, you were following him inside. You almost didn't want to step onto the marbled floor with your simple black, combat boots. But Michael was determined, and in that moment, wherever Michael was going, so were you. He led you through the confusing twists and turns of the lobby, as though he'd been here before, bringing you to a concierge desk. The woman was dressed in an fancy, black pant-suit, with a grey ascott around her neck. Her and Michael looked like they belonged (he with his elegant black suit, maroon tie, and stupid accessory). You, however, looked like you just crawled out of an underground club in New York.

"Oh, geez..." you whispered under your breath, suddenly losing all confidence you once had. Michael's had stayed firm in yours, even as you nervously looked around the room, your free hand coming over to grasp the top of his, sandwiching it between your hands.

"Hello, we have a reservation," Michael spoke, his voice steady and filled with authority. "Under Langdon." You gaped up at him for his sureness, unable to believe he was actually doing this. You quickly looked over to the woman, ready to spew out a string of bullshit apologies, only to stop once you saw the look in her eyes. Her once brown eyes, had now turned completely white. Not even a milky, glazed-over kind of look, but like she never had any irisies or pupils to begin with.

"Yes, Mr.Langdon. You and Miss.Foxx-"

"It's Goode." Michael's correction of your last name diverted your attention back to him, and you couldn't help the sudden burst of adoration in your chest.

"My apologies, Mr.Langdon. You and Miss.Goode will be in the Ritz-Carlton Suite, with the panoramic river view. Would you like me to show you to your room?" Her voice was robotic, each word being pronounced perfectly, but lacking any specific accent or dialect.