World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

8.0

THE BLOW

The tourist is taking a bath so I am alone in my room and I’m loving it. No way I’d admit it but it’s actually nice to have someone to share my day with. Too bad this guy is so annoying and gay.

“The bathroom is free for you, bubu,” he comes out from the shower wearing nothing but a small towel on his waist. I stare at his body as he dries himself and I’m sure he knows I’m doing it. I can tell from the smirk on his face.

“How’s the water?” I try to change the subject.

“It’s nice,” he answers, “What would you expect from an hotel like this?”

“I don’t know,” I grab my stuff to get dressed inside of the bathroom. I don’t want to tempt him with my nakedness, “I had bad experiences before.”

“Hey,” he called me before I entered the bath, “I wanna blow.”

What the hell? That’s exactly the reason why I hate to become friends with gay people. They can’t tell the difference between friendship and something else. That pisses me off.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he smirks and I shoot a warning glare towards him, “I wanna blow.”

“You are crazy if you thinks I’ll let you,” I answer sharply. Sometimes I hate to be so damn irresistible.

“My hair,” he laughs out loud, “What did you think?”

“I know exactly what you were trying to do,” I roll my eyes at him and grab the hair blower to throw it at his face. How dare he trying to make a fool out of me? I’m glad I didn’t even consider it. Kind of.

I let the hot water run through my body and it couldn’t feel better. I needed that to finish my sobering up. I’m feeling way better now. Somehow, the image of the naked tourist comes back to my head and I try to shake it off. He is weird looking. He is so tiny and skinny but I don’t know, there’s something that makes him hot.

“No!” I yell out of nowhere. I can’t find him hot. Ugh, I hate myself for that.

But he is kind of hot though. I hate to admit it but he is not that feminine. He is kind of manly at points. He definitely is weird. I’m curious about him and he keeps insisting on finding me so that’s the only reason why I think of him. Nothing else.

“Bubu!” he interrupts my relaxing shower.

“What do you want?”

“Can I borrow an outfit?” he asks and I can’t believe how rude he is being, again.

“Don’t touch the red shirt,” I demand, “I’m wearing that one with the black jeans. Pick anything else,” I leave the shower and open the door.

“Wey hey, hey there,” he says as he lands his eyes on my naked torso, “Tattoos everywhere.”

“Stop it,” I actually enjoy his comment but I try to hide it, “My pants will look weird on you. Didn’t you send your stuff to the laundry room?”

“I did,” he says as he tries my clothes on, “But I don’t want to repeat an outfit. I’ll post pictures on instagram and I wanna wear something new.”

“Whatever,” I roll my eyes, “Didn’t you see my tats this morning already?” I ask sheepishly.

“I was too sleepy to notice them,” he says as he buttons the pants. I turn around and the first thing I see is his butt sticking out. My pants are definitely too tight for him but, um, well.