When the silence grows awkward, I ask, “So are you all done now?”
He doesn’t answer right away, choosing to finish caring for my wounds before his simple, “For tonight, yeah.”
The room had felt cramped before. With Z’s presence it becomes almost claustrophobic. There’s no place to really sit other than the bed and one small chair so I don’t really blame him when he sits down next to me on the bed and picks up a previously unseen plastic bag, pulling out several sandwiches and a bag of chips.
“Looks like chef gave me a chicken salad and an egg salad. You have a preference?” he asks.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. You need to eat.”
“I ate with Katja earlier,” I lie. Food was delivered earlier, that didn’t mean I’d eaten it.
“While you were in the shower, I had time to notice the tray is still full, so I’ll ask again. Do you have a preference on sandwiches?”
He has the same bossy tone as Dex I see. Still, I’m grateful enough for the company that I give in.
“I like either one. You choose.”
He hands me what looks like egg salad on a croissant before getting up to grab a couple bottles of water from his mini fridge, returning to sit on the bed facing me.
We each take a bite in silence. My stomach gurgles, probably happy I’m finally eating, and I see a small smile come to his lips.
“Dex told me he helped you get in touch with your friend Laura and your parents, so they don’t worry. You haven’t tried to contact anyone else today, right?” he asks.
“Even if I wanted to, how would I? I still don’t have my own phone.”
“Yeah, but he also told me he gave you a burner phone so you could call him or Katja if you needed anything.” I can feel his glare before he adds, “You didn’t use it to call anyone else, right?”
Truthfully, if I had anyone’s phone numbers memorized, I might have given in to temptation, but I’m not going to tell him that.
“Of course not. You told me not to, so I didn’t.”
He nods his head, seemingly satisfied with my answer.
I try to come up with something neutral to talk about as we both take bites of our sandwiches.
“The body… is it… gone?” Okay, so that isn’t very neutral.
“You don’t need to worry about it again.”
Easy for him to say.
Crumpling up the empty wrapper from his sandwich, Z stands and strides toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower and let you get dressed out here while I’m gone.”
Only then do I remember I’m still just wrapped in a towel, and nothing else.
Once the door closes, I go to the bag of things I’d thrown together in my room before leaving in a rush. I hadn’t cared at the time what I’d even grabbed, but now that it’s all I have of my belongings, I hate my remaining options.
I throw on a pair of panties, but then have to choose between a long-sleeve Prada turtleneck top with jeans, and a cute Bohemian maxi dress. Neither really suitable for sleepwear.
I’m just about to wrap myself back in the towel so I can wait to grab my yoga pants and t-shirt from the bathroom when Z finishes when I remember rifling through his dresser drawers earlier in the day.
What the hell. Why not?
I open his drawer and pull out a well-worn Harley-Davidson t-shirt. Slipping it over my head, I can’t help but wonder if Z has a motorcycle. He certainly seems like the type of man who might. Under normal circumstances, that would excite me, but nothing is normal right now.
The shower being turned off makes my pulse race. He’s gonna come out here soon, and I’m realizing I have no idea what our sleeping arrangement will be. With only one queen sized bed, logic tells me we’ll sleep together, but this sure as hell isn’t how I’d pictured this going all of those nights I’d lain awake thinking about getting Z in my bed.
Maybe I should offer to sleep on the floor.
The hell with that. I’m not some kinda damn prude.
Maybe I should ask him to sleep in another room. It is, after all, a hotel. There are presumably lots of other empty beds to be had.
He opens the door before I can sort out my options. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his perfect body. Droplets of water slide down his muscular chest, passing over his many tattoos on their way to the towel at his waist. The dark hair smattered across his chest and six-pack abs trails lower, disappearing with the water under the towel.
“I see you helped yourself to my favorite t-shirt.” His smile tells me he doesn’t mind.
I finally find my voice. “I didn’t really pack the right things last night.”