The Internship

Chapter Fourteen

"Thank you. I just spoke from the heart. It came almost naturally," Mitch said, for the millionth time.

We were at his mother's house after the funeral. Everyone was coming up to him and practically praising him for his poem.

We were the only ones not eating since we were planning to order the hell out of room service when we got back to our hotel.

I had been following Mitch around like a dog, but it was fine, I was getting a great view of his ass.

"Ready to go?" He whispered to me, snapping me out of my fantasies.

"Yeah sure."

Mitch said his goodbyes and soon we were on our way to the hotel.

"I can't get over your poem, Mitch. Holy shit, it was amazing," I said as were driving to our hotel in our rental car.

He blushed. "Everyone is freaking out over it. It's nothing special, really. But thank you."

"I don't want to sound like a suck-up, but you're so damn amazing Mitch. With everything. You don't give yourself enough credit for any of it. I wish you could see what you're like from my eyes."

"I have a feeling you only see me naked, Mr. Hoying."

I blushed. "Fine, fine looks like you caught me."

We laughed and were soon at our hotel.

"Shower and meet me in my room in an hour?" I asked on the elevator.

"Sure thing. Don't fantasize about me naked while you're in there okay?" He didn't look at me while he said it, he looked straight ahead with a smirk on his face.

"You naughty wishful boy."

He winked at me. "Just because you can't fantasize about me, doesn't me I can't fantasize about you." He let his eyes travel along my body before entering his room.

That boy. I thought

-----

"Harry Styles, Beyoncé, and me," I said.

"Hmm, okay. Fuck Harry, marry Beyoncé--" Mitch paused and pouted. "Sorry baby boy, but you're dead."

"You wouldn't fuck me, or marry me?" I asked, frowning.

"Harry and Beyoncé, Scott. Are you hearing me?"

"Whatever. I think I'm pretty cool."

Mitch and I were in my room laying on my bed. We'd ordered just about the whole damn room service menu. Now we were playing fuck, marry, kill and drinking chardonnay.

"Kirstie, Taylor Swift, and George Clooney," Mitch said.

"Woah, this is a hard one."

Mitch smirked and sipped his chardonnay.

"Fuck George Clooney, marry Kirstie, and kill Taylor Swift?" I said it as more of a question. "George is hot but he's so old. And Taylor seems so sweet, but I can't kill Kirstie."

"You poor guy, your life is so hard," Mitch said.

"Oh shutup."

"Harry," he moaned, while winking at me. "I'll be getting it on while you and Mr. Ancient play bingo."

"Not fair! Ooh let's have a threesome!" I suggested.

He rolled his eyes at me and got up, pouring us both some more chardonnay. We weren't drunk, but we had had enough that there was a warm, tingly feeling in my stomach. Or maybe that was because of Mitch, I don't really know.