𝐷𝐸𝑆𝑃𝐼𝑆𝐸 ; 𝑄𝑈𝐴𝐶𝐾𝐼𝑇𝑌

21

If anything, I'm quite thrilled. Thinking of the bright side of most things, it's better than those weird scenarios you catch in movies or books, where you have to share a bed with a guy and the next morning you both suddenly fall hard for each other.

I'd sleep on the lobby couch if that was my case.

I'm worried about the sleep I'll be getting tonight. The possibilities of him being a irksome snorer, sleep talker, or even worse, a sleep walker can be very common.

I'm not one to sign up for dealing with that shit. It needs to be dead quiet in the room, not a single sound should my ears pick up on.

Going back five floors down to chat with the receptionist about the mini inconvenience is a path I could take.

Two problems formed with that small play-through in my mind.

For starters, this is a physical key that we are using. Not a key card, a legitimate key. Which is something I thought we left behind in the past ever since technology made it's first appearance.

That means I can still get a replacement, but a fee might be on the line. It can be expensive if they have to re-key the lock.

Also, I'm trying to avoid going up flights of stairs again tonight. If we came after the update of putting in elevators, I would go fetch for a replacement key with no second thoughts coming my way.

It took me awhile to finally move my body and turn to my door that leads to the room that contains many different scenarios ending up to happen on this night.

A click being made from the door unlocking, I push Alex in front of me to head on in first as I search for the doorknob to shut the door behind.

He collapses onto the bed that was once neatly made, burying half of his legs under the white cold covers before fluffing up some pillows to give back support.

"Can you c'mere for a second?" He then utters out, causing me to hesitantly walk over to his side with one knee kneeled to give fair eye level.

"Closer."

Rejecting, I shake my head. "Closer? I don-"

Instead, he's the one to do it. Saying no wasn't the answer he was searching for.

Faces inches apart. Noses close enough where it's safe to say it could be touching.

His breath tickled lightly on my skin, bringing the hairs on my arms to spring up.

At this point it felt like we were analyzing each other's features closely. A little too close for my comfort, but for some reason I still stayed put.

How his eyes seems to soften when meeting up with mine. How nicely long his eyelashes looked and curved down where it made mine look pathetic. Eyebrows seeming naturally trimmed and having the right amount of hair where it doesn't lean to too thin or too bushy. The lunares takes the whole cake, being scattered around on places where it's easy to spot and be admired from afar.

And I can't help but tell you how much his side profile is to die for.

Calling him an average looking man should be forbidden to say. How shameful of me to ever call him that, or even go as far to spewing insults about the entirety of him to my close friends because of this unknown hatred for him.