Miss Matched [COMPLETED]

35. Simon

I've traveled through New York City a few times on my way to somewhere else, but I've only been here to sightsee once, and that was with Tayla seven years ago. Our first trip together. Does she remember? That time we sat next to each other, giddy with impending discoveries. This time, we were on opposite ends of the plane.

The hotel lobby buzzes around us while we wait in line to be served. In sync, we take a step forward.

In the box of mementos she dropped, there'd been a NY City shot glass. I don't remember when or where we bought it, but she must. All the things she valued about our relationship, scattered across her floor. The pressure in my chest when I realized we both kept things, held onto the past so tightly, was crushing.

Does she realize this is our last trip together too? The bookends of our relationship. Once we're done with GameSetMatch, I doubt I'll hear from her ever again. She offered to give me that box as though she could care less. Her indifference is stinging. We'll never recover.

This last week the only communication we exchanged was over hotel reservations, flights, and sharing taxis. She's nothing if not practical. Can't stand to be around me, but why pay full fare?

We're the last people in line, and it's our turn at the reception desk. When we're waved up, I follow Tayla.

"Reservation for Tayla Murphy," she says, hoisting her bag higher onto her shoulder.

She put her other two suitcases in a temporary holding spot via the concierge when we entered the hotel. Her life jammed into two suitcases and a carry on. She's got guts, I'll give her that.

"One room with a king-sized bed?" The receptionist clicks through various screens.

"No," Tayla says sharply. "Two rooms. I definitely booked two rooms." She roots around in her purse for her phone.

She forwarded me the reservation, so I pass my phone with the email open to the receptionist. He frowns and scrolls through it, and then he double-checks the information on his screen.

"Just wait here a minute." The receptionist hands back my phone and goes down the bank of check-in slots to someone who must be a manager. They exchange a brief conversation, and the manager comes over with the receptionist.

They both click through various computer screens, and the manager sighs.

"Sorry about this folks. We're booked solid because of a conference down the road, and it looks as though this booking and another came in at exactly the same time. Shouldn't happen, but sometimes there's a glitch."

All these fucking glitches. Soulmates, hotel rooms... The honorable solution stares me in the face, even if it means I'm unlikely to see Tayla until our appointment in the morning, and then probably never again. At least if we were in the same hotel I might have caught a glimpse of her at breakfast, passed her in a hallway, shared an elevator.

"It's fine," I say. "I'll go to another hotel as long as we're refunded."

"We've processed the refund. That's not a problem. But another hotel might be an issue," the manager says. "I'm happy to call around for you since this is our mistake, but the Media Arts conference this weekend is huge. I've heard everything within ten blocks is booked solid."

Of course it is. Fate is determined to drive me as far from Tayla as possible. I get it, okay? I don't deserve her.

She glances at me and bites her lip. "Do you have any rollaway beds or anything? We can share a room if we have to."

Even with reluctance wafting off her like a bad perfume, hope rises in me. Two nights of close proximity. That's a chance, isn't it? One last opportunity to show her I might be Fucking Simon and Dickhead Simon, but I'm also Soulmate Simon. Maybe that won't be enough, but I have to try.