Been There

Chapter 4: Nothing But the Best

Lyle smiles and then awkwardly laughs a little, blushing even, and while rubbing the back of his head he motions for this George character to have a seat in a chair against the wall nearest me. He does, sitting down and crossing his legs immediately, side-glancing at me warily.

"That's why I called you," Lyle admits, glancing at me with worry in his eyes. Suddenly I feel like a burden and it's not nice. It's not like it's my fault he was a hero and saved me last night. I'm just a victim of circumstance for goodness sake.

"You see there was a little incident last night," Lyle starts, taking a seat next to me on the bed, sitting a little farther away than before. The distance isn't that much greater, but I can feel it.

I can see why though since George carefully eyes how close he is to me and I take it even this distance is pushing his limits. Who is this guy anyway? Manager, father, or something else entirely? His hair is dark brown, but graying almost artistically along the sides. It may be artificial, but it gives him a wise look. His clothes are perfectly coordinated, even with his eyes and complexion and I can tell he's very aware of his appearance. He purses his lips and thinks a moment before finally speaking.

"Is she pregnant?"

Lyle and I look at each other in horror, our mouths fighting to fall open. He only spares me a glance though before jumping right into damage control. My face must be on fire or something. In case it's not obvious, I'm not the best with sexual implications. They make me all antsy and uncomfortable. Like even if it didn't happen, just the idea of me and Lyle jumping into bed together for a one night stand just makes me cringe. George smirks at our reactions and Lyle explains hurriedly- as if letting the idea last any longer in George's mind might make it true.

"No, God no, she was almost raped," he chokes over the word rape and I shutter slightly, but he forces himself onward despite George's now apparent concern,"and well, I rescued her, so I had to bring her back here to, um, recover rather, but now I don't exactly know what to do, that's all," he looks at me apologetically then back to George hoping for an answer.

Instead I turn and see George leaning forward, staring at me with nothing but the utmost concern in his eyes strikingly dark, brown eyes. He reaches out to touch me- probably in a caring way- but I cringe away, even if I'm partially aware of his sexual orientation. He's a man and right now, that's not sitting so well with me.

"Oh, honey I'm sorry," he apologizes and I try to shake my head to say it's okay.

He clasps his hands and places them in his lap, purposefully obvious to tell me he won't try to touch me again. I relax and sit normally once more- I just realized I was shying away from him, cowering toward Lyle. That's not totally awkward. No one seems to mind except me though, so I pay it little attention. George turns his attention to Lyle now, who's kindly patting my back for comfort. I appreciate it, that's for sure.

"Did you get to her before the dick got what he wanted?" George asks strangely angry and I'm shocked to see the mild fury in his eyes.

Lyle tenses up and nods, his hand stops patting and just rests on my back. Silence hangs in the air heavily for just a moment, both men caught up in their own thoughts. I wonder what they're thinking? How do men feel about rape? Is it as terrible and inhumane as it is to women or can they sympathize?

"Honey, do you need a doctor?" George asks me to break the silence, almost placing a hand on my knee, but freezing it midair and pulling it back to myself. It's pretty sweet of him and I smile, shaking my head. Lyle goes back to patting my back and I can tell he's joined us again. George pushes though, "are you sure? It's no trouble getting you to a hospital, just to get checked out."

I think of it. Having to explain what happened to a strange doctor and have them check me out only to be told I'm fine. It's not worth it. I really just want to get back to my dorm and sit with Pattie in our room watching movies and eating ice-cream until we bulge. Forever.

"No, really, I'd rather just go home," I add to confirm and he nods with understanding also with a sad smile across his well trimmed lips. There's another knock at the door and I'm guessing it's room service, but it still make me jump a little. Lyle must notice, but just rubs my back a little before removing it. The absense leaves me feeling cold.

Lyle calls out, "come in!" and they do so instantly. A handsome bellboy rolls in the cart, not looking up for the most part except to spare me a glance. I can't tell if he's disappointed or pleased with what he sees, but without a word he leaves the room. George sits back in his chair and motions for us to go ahead and eat, the conversation can wait. Lyle hands me my plate and I stare at it with confusion. This can't be what I ordered.

"Not what you wanted?" a puzzled Lyle asks, glancing at my plate before taking a bite of his own food. I scrunch my mouth to the side and shake my head disappointedly.

"I don't think so," I answer putting the plate back on the cart.

"You pointed at the picture of eggs benedict, that's what I ordered," Lyle informs me assuredly and I snatch a menu up looking back to the picture I showed him. Are you kidding me? Freaking eggs benedict! It looks like ice cream in the picture!

"I thought it was ice cream!" I exclaim, aggravated with whatever stupid photographer took the damn picture that made the eggs look so damn shiny and ice-cream-like. Lyle and George start laughing and Lyle points to the words "Eggs Benedict" on the menu below the picture.

"It says it right there, love," he states and I see he's right, but in all honesty I couldn't tell for sure.

"I couldn't tell if it was the one above or below the picture. The other one was in french anyway how was I supposed to know!" I explain exasperatedly and with that I slam the menu down on the cart, crossing my arms in aggravation.

Here I was looking forward to fancy hotel ice-cream for breakfast and no, I've got eggs. Fancy eggs, but eggs nonetheless. I have eggs every freaking day! I should've known they wouldn't have ice-cream for breakfast, but I thought maybe that wasn't so strange for the elite. George is muffling his laughter in a handkerchief that was in his breast pocket and Lyle is snickering beside me, eating his breakfast with absolute glee. I hope he chokes. Not really. But kind of.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't just "pick the first thing you see", love," Lyle remarks and I feel like taking his fork and sticking him in his gorgeous, sparkly, blue eyes. That'll be the last thing you see, punk.

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*"Pic of Brooke's Breakfast choice on side. Can you see why she made her mistake?