Room Service

Chapter Ten

            Usually, I had a tight rein on my emotions, and I’d been that way for as long as I could remember. I wasn’t sure exactly where I’d picked up the trait, but it was there all the same, serving me well for years. It was always the safest option; there was no need to be burdened by lingering attachment to temporary things, or intense emotions that got in the way of practical matters. I always stopped myself before I got too deep. And yet with Leon, somehow he’d let my guard down, and that had been perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.

            The first part of my morning shift passed relatively uneventfully; other than the standard checkouts of guests on their way out of Walden, as well as a couple of trips to the kitchen to deliver breakfast orders, there wasn’t a lot going on. Time was dragging, and no sooner had I allowed myself to wish for something a little more interesting to happen, I found myself regretting it.

            When Rosemarie burst through the main doors, her flushed face was the first thing I noticed. A natural redhead, the dark pink hue didn’t exactly compliment the tone of her hair, which bounced in a ponytail atop her head. I forced a smile as she came in, but this quickly fell from my face when I realised she was marching over with a determination that couldn’t possibly be a good sign.

            “Rosemarie,” I said, a little nervously. As she reached the front desk, I found myself subconsciously leaning back in my chair: a natural reflex to her frightening expression. “What’s going on? I thought you had plans with your friends?”

            “Jenny cancelled,” she dismissed, “but as it turns out, I’m glad she did, because it means I was on Twitter in time to see this.”

            Suddenly, she was holding her phone in front of my face, leaving me no choice but to take a glance. It was, of course, exactly what I’d been dreading: the same picture Allison had held a copy of the previous day, in which mine and Leon’s faces were unnervingly close together. Thankfully, the image Rosemarie was displaying was a slightly grainier version, the features of my face too unfocused to really make out. It wasn’t hard proof that it was me, which was enough to let me relax a little.

            “What’s that?” I asked, feigning innocence.

            “Leon McCarthy,” she said, though of course I knew already. “That’s what it is.”

            “Oh.” I started fiddling with the pen in my hand, clicking the lid repeatedly, wondering if Rosemarie had noticed the flash of panic in my eyes. “He’s, uh… got a new girlfriend, then?”

            “Looks like it.” There was a strange note in her tone, one that I couldn’t quite work out, and consequently had me on the edge of my seat. “Still, I thought you would’ve known all about that, Coraline.”

            My heart was thumping beneath the fabric of my shirt, way too hard to be healthy. I only hoped she couldn’t hear it. “Me?” I swallowed. “Why would I know anything about this?”

            “Gee, I don’t know,” she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe the fact that it’s you in this picture?”

            She held the phone closer, waving it in front of my face for emphasis. When her hand stilled, I let my gaze refocus on the picture. The two figures had their heads close together, ducked slightly away from the camera, so that only the slope of my profile and wet blonde hair were really visible. There had to be room for denial. And if there wasn’t, I was going to have to make some.

            I forced a laugh. “Me?” I echoed in mock incredulity. “What are you talking about?”

            “Don’t you dare try and deny it,” Rosemarie interjected, with a scathing look I never thought I’d see on her. “This is you!”