Same Same but Different

Chapter Two

The aircon was blowing nicely from it's perch above the bedroom door. When I walked in, the cold air gave me a rush. Briefly, I stood and let the less humid and more refreshing air flow over my face. The reality of what I was going to have to figure out crashed into my thoughts in hot waves, so I couldn't exactly bask in the wonderfulness that is aircon on a hot Cambodian night. I stared straight forward. Just slightly to my right was the bed. Was it a double? Was it a full? Was it some weird Cambodian version of a twin bed that was just slightly larger than an American twin bed? Hard to tell. It was just small. The headboard was a nineteen-fifties era thing, a very light tan, with storage. There was a lamp on the right and a book on the left. Huh. Did I leave that here? At the foot of the bed was a footlocker. It served as my dresser. To the immediate left of the door were two more doors. One was a very small closet, held rain coats nicely, and the other was a door that concealed the stairway to the roof.

"Fuck, this is small," he spoke from over my shoulder.

You took the words right out of my mouth. I shrugged and tried to formulate sentences about bed sharing that wouldn't make it sound like I was hitting on him. I mean, I guess I could hit on him. I shook that thought out of my head. This was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. Stop being ridiculous. I had to remind myself of my current state of sweat pants before I let my jetlagged girlish fantasies run wild. "It fits one person just perfectly. Luckily for you, there's a really nice couch or a hammock. Sure," I shrugged again, "the couch is made out of intricately carved wood and only has two cushions and the hammock is outside with no mosquito net, but beggars can't be choosers now can they?" I didn't turn around. It was a heck of a lot easier to be sarcastic and funny not looking at his face.

"Yeah... A mosquito infested hammock outside just asking for malaria." He muttered.

"Ah! Malaria!" I whirled around, bumped directly into his chest with both hands up effectively groping him. "Sorry," I awkwardly pulled my hands back. "That reminds me that I need to take my malaria medication."

"Sounds like you get the hammock then," he smiled, shifted out of my way, and, guessing by the flop sound, fell onto the bed as I went to the bathroom where I'd left my toiletry case that contained my pills. My nose involuntarily crinkled in disgust as I imagined his still rain-soaked self on the fresh sheets. Maybe the sound was something else.

"You aren't taking malaria medication?" I called as I shook a slightly large, bright pink pill out of the bottle. I meandered back to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, and took my pill.

"Uh, no."

Damn it. Now I couldn't make him sleep in the hammock. Granted, according to the CDC website Phnom Penh wasn't where cases of malaria flared up, Siem Reap was on that list, I still didn't want to be the reason Chris Evans contracted malaria.

"So you aren't leaving Phnom Penh, huh?" I walked back into the bedroom; this time shutting the door behind me. He was still standing and his eyebrows shot up. "Aircon is expensive, this machine is old," I gestured to the off-white contraption above my head, "and if you leave the door open, there's a good chance it will either cost Boupha too much or the thing will just burn out completely. Any-way. I guess I just figured you were on your way to Siem Reap to see some touristy temples, given your slightly inept-uh-ness."

"I am an excellent traveler, thank you." I noticed he had kicked his shoes off as he continued, "It was just a very long flight and there were a lot of smaller things that slipped my mind. Things like airport pick-ups and malaria medicine."

"And luggage..." I smirked.

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly while still smiling. He was just so nice. "Yes. And luggage."