Stars speckled across a honey-coloured ceiling spring into life when I open my eyes. The hotel suite is warm and smells of sugar, the air conditioner churning on above me even though it's not all that cold. Make-up stains my pillow. When I wipe my hand across my face, it comes away with smears of purple lipstick.
Nobody is beside me in the double bed; I almost instantly feel safer. Last time I went to a club, I woke up beside Jake Gyllenhal, drunk and dizzy. It was the day I swore off clubbing- but it looks like, this time, a shattered self-promise was worth it.
The satin sheets are curled around me and turning me into a mummy. I untangle myself from the cocoon and lie in bed, stretching my fingertips out beside me for my phone. When I turn it on I see it's still early, only seven thirty. The sunlight is already streaming lazily through a gap in the curtains, illuminating my skin, and the air is warm despite the air conditioner. I could lie here forever.
But I don't. The tour bus always leaves hotels at nine, and I like to be prepared. Slowly, I peel back the sheets from my hot skin, stepping out onto the creamy carpet. I am only just thinking about how beautiful the fish in their mirrored tank look this morning when I hear somebody stir from the corner, yawning and rolling over.
My whole body stalls. You know when you get that awful feeling when something happens, really suddenly, and your throat goes dry and your heart jumps up and down and your head starts spinning? That happens. I can hear where the movement is coming from, but I don't dare look. There is someone on the sofa. I feel sick.
I clutch my stomach, squeezing my eyes shut as if not seeing the invader will make them go away. But they move again with a rasping groan, and I know I have to sort this out.
I open my eyes and stare in shock at the couch. "What the hell? What are you doing here, Ed?"
His ginger hair is all ruffled up and spiky from sleeping on the sofa. There's a dark purple lipstick stain smeared across his cheek- my lipstick stain. I feel myself blushing, even though he probably doesn't know about it. He smells of sweat and wine, and he's only wearing his boxers. Now I feel like the intruder.
At first it seems his eyes are sewn shut, but slowly, he peels them open and blinks at me. He seems surprised for a moment too.
"Oh, yeah. Hey, Taylor. Thanks for letting me crash here." Ed rolls out of bed, quite literally, and lands with a thud on the cream floor. I stifle a laugh in spite of myself.
"I don't know if that was supposed to be a pun or not, but I don't recall saying you could," I retort. Sure, we're... dating, I guess, but I don't think I'd let him spend another night in my room. That's two nights in a row. If someone notices, they'll definitely be suspicious.
"Sure you did," he replies cheerily, hauling himself off the floor. Most guys shirtless would make a girl drool. But Ed isn't typically hot with his shirt off; he just has that cute, naughty little boy smile that makes it hard for him to look 'hot'. "We were in the elevator. I said my room was two storeys up, and you said I could stay with you then."
"But everyone on the tour is on this floor."
"I know," Ed shrugs. "But you didn't."
The weasel tricked me, but I don't care, because I feel safer with him. All of the fear and horror has melted away and flowed out of my system. Instead of scolding him, I laugh. I actually laugh. And then a horrible thought crosses my mind.
"Oh my God, Caitlin wasn't in the elevator too, was she?" My hand clamps over my mouth and suffocates the gasp trying to wriggle its way out. Caitlin can't know about us. Caitlin is sweet and playful and an amazing friend, but honestly, she can't keep secrets. She'll be gossiping about it to the freaking papers by noon.
YOU ARE READING
Red (Ted Sweeran Romance)
Fanfiction"Love is as easy as ABC." That's what everybody Taylor has ever known has always seemed to tell her. Her family, her friends, even some of her past lovers. But if she's knocking down the letters of the alphabet, Taylor's already at Plan G, and she h...
