Conflicted

“No, work colleagues actually,” Aaron replies smoothly. I can’t help but blush as her eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “Thanks, we’ll take the room. Visa okay?” He hands her his credit card.

I wander over to the front door while Aaron fills out the guest registration form. Pulling out my phone, I send Lucas a text.

Me: Sorry, something came up. Raincheck?

His reply is almost instant.

Lucas: Okay. Sure. Are you alone?

My stomach twists into knots as I text back yes. I don’t even know why I’m lying to him, but why would he even ask me that? It’s not my fault I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with the man I promised Lucas I was finished with. Maybe it’s because you don’t trust yourself around Aaron. There’s more truth to that thought than I’m willing to admit. I switch off my phone, determined not to feel guilty about something I have no control over, and walk back over to Aaron.

“Everything okay?” he asks, glancing at my phone. I nod. I can’t talk to him about Lucas. It feels too weird.

We run through the rain to our room, which is conveniently right next to where we parked. The lady was right, it is a twin room, but the beds are so close together we might as well be sleeping on top of one another. My stomach flutters, and suddenly I feel sick.

“If you want to take a shower I can go find us some food.” Aaron’s deep voice makes me jump. My stomach growls in response. I haven’t eaten properly in days, so the thought of something hot makes me smile.

“That would be great, actually, but are you sure you’re up to it?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but I can’t get the thought of him being sick out of my mind.

“Lacey—”

“I know,” I say, wincing. “I’m sorry. Go.”

He nods and turns to leave, but hesitates before turning back to me.

“If these sleeping arrangements make you uncomfortable, I can sleep in the car,” he offers. I laugh, and then realize he’s serious.

“No, it’s fine,” I assure him.

“Okay, but only if you’re sure. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Are you good with anything?”

“Whatever is fine,” I assure him. I wait until he’s left the room before I strip out of my clothes. I don’t have anything to change into, but I find a robe in the wardrobe that will at least let me wash my underwear.

I shower quickly, wanting to be done and dressed again before Aaron gets back. Staring at myself in the tiny bathroom mirror, I pile my hair up into a messy bun and wrap my hair tie around it. Slipping into the bathrobe, I hang my wet underwear over the heater and go back out to the room.

My phone vibrates on the bedside table. I look up, confused. I thought I turned it off. Picking it up, I see a few messages from Lucas, and one from Ariel. I check Lucas’s messages.

Lucas: I’m sorry Lace. I know it’s none of my business who you’re with, I’m just paranoid. Just call me when you get home, okay?

Me: I will.

After I’m dressed back in my clothes—minus my underwear—I find the remote for the small television in the top drawer of the dresser. It’s an old, square box-style one with a bad picture, but it’s better than nothing. I find an old rerun of Friends and leave it on for background noise, because the silence is driving me crazy. I think too much when it’s quiet.

Ten minutes later, Aaron walks in carrying Chinese. He smiles apologetically and sits the food down on the small round table.

“There wasn’t a whole lot of choice,” he explains.

I stand up, straighten my shirt, and wander over to him, aware his eyes are looking me over. I shiver, his attention making my body react in ways I wish it wouldn’t.

“Chinese is good,” I say, my lips tugging into a smile.

I sit down, tucking my leg under me, and reach for a container. My mouth salivates as the smell of noodles drifts through the room. We both eat, neither of us speaking, the television providing the perfect distraction in the background.

After dinner, Aaron clears our food and throws it in the trash. It’s still early, but my poor sleep the night before has caught up with me. All I want to do is crawl into bed and go to sleep, but I can’t—not with him here. Not the way he’s looking at me. He’d probably just sit there and watch me sleep. The thought makes my face heat.

“If you’re tired, go to sleep. I can just read,” he says, as if reading my mind. “And we can probably move these beds a little bit further apart.”

I look at the tiny space on either side of the undersized beds and laugh. Only if you move one outside.