THE BLOW
The tourist is taking a bath so I am alone in my room and I’m loving it. No way I’d admit it but it’s actually nice to have someone to share my day with. Too bad this guy is so annoying and gay.
“The bathroom is free for you, bubu,” he comes out from the shower wearing nothing but a small towel on his waist. I stare at his body as he dries himself and I’m sure he knows I’m doing it. I can tell from the smirk on his face.
“How’s the water?” I try to change the subject.
“It’s nice,” he answers, “What would you expect from an hotel like this?”
“I don’t know,” I grab my stuff to get dressed inside of the bathroom. I don’t want to tempt him with my nakedness, “I had bad experiences before.”
“Hey,” he called me before I entered the bath, “I wanna blow.”
What the hell? That’s exactly the reason why I hate to become friends with gay people. They can’t tell the difference between friendship and something else. That pisses me off.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he smirks and I shoot a warning glare towards him, “I wanna blow.”
“You are crazy if you thinks I’ll let you,” I answer sharply. Sometimes I hate to be so damn irresistible.
“My hair,” he laughs out loud, “What did you think?”
“I know exactly what you were trying to do,” I roll my eyes at him and grab the hair blower to throw it at his face. How dare he trying to make a fool out of me? I’m glad I didn’t even consider it. Kind of.
I let the hot water run through my body and it couldn’t feel better. I needed that to finish my sobering up. I’m feeling way better now. Somehow, the image of the naked tourist comes back to my head and I try to shake it off. He is weird looking. He is so tiny and skinny but I don’t know, there’s something that makes him hot.
“No!” I yell out of nowhere. I can’t find him hot. Ugh, I hate myself for that.
But he is kind of hot though. I hate to admit it but he is not that feminine. He is kind of manly at points. He definitely is weird. I’m curious about him and he keeps insisting on finding me so that’s the only reason why I think of him. Nothing else.
“Bubu!” he interrupts my relaxing shower.
“What do you want?”
“Can I borrow an outfit?” he asks and I can’t believe how rude he is being, again.
“Don’t touch the red shirt,” I demand, “I’m wearing that one with the black jeans. Pick anything else,” I leave the shower and open the door.
“Wey hey, hey there,” he says as he lands his eyes on my naked torso, “Tattoos everywhere.”
“Stop it,” I actually enjoy his comment but I try to hide it, “My pants will look weird on you. Didn’t you send your stuff to the laundry room?”
“I did,” he says as he tries my clothes on, “But I don’t want to repeat an outfit. I’ll post pictures on instagram and I wanna wear something new.”
“Whatever,” I roll my eyes, “Didn’t you see my tats this morning already?” I ask sheepishly.
“I was too sleepy to notice them,” he says as he buttons the pants. I turn around and the first thing I see is his butt sticking out. My pants are definitely too tight for him but, um, well.
“Now I know I look good, bubu,” he laughs, “It turns you on to see me wearing your clothes I can tell.”
“Shut up,” I go back to the bathroom to get dressed there.
“I’ll lose the Wi-Fi when we leave,” he yells again, “Give me your instagram user so I can follow you and we can stay in touch.”
“No need for that,” I answer as I come out from the bathroom, “I’m sure you’ll find me anyways. Stalker,” I mumble.
“Looking good, homo,” he stares at me, “That color brings out your eyes. I love it.”
“Didn’t you say you were done calling me homo?”
“Sorry about that. I completely forgot, bubu.”
God, he is so annoying. “Okay, goodbye then,” I open the door for him to leave.
“We are leaving together,” he doesn’t seem to care.
“Nope,” I answer roughly, “We’ll meet at the airport. I’m sure.”
“We are going to city sight together. I already planned the day,” he pouts, “Come on, it will be fun. We still have the whole afternoon before the time we have to check in at the airport.”
“I’d rather do that by my own,” I lie. It was actually interesting to do it with someone but I wasn’t sure about him being my trip partner.
“You love to have people begging you, don’t you?” I don’t answer anything, “Please let me come with you, Harry,” he fakes an American accent and I don’t even know why.
“Hurry up. It’s too late already,” I say before we leave the room.
The tourist greets and waves at everyone we meet on our way to the streets. I try to walk a few steps behind him because I don’t want people to think we are a couple or something.
“Louis?” an Irish accent calls his name when we reach the lobby and we both turn around. The hottie.
“Niall?” the tourist seems uncomfortable and I wonder why.
“I think I know you,” he tells me. Yes, you know me. And you were a dick to me.
“I’m not sure,” I lie.
“Yeah. We’ve met on the plane,” he inspects my face, “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he turns to Louis.
“I didn’t know you’d be here either,” his reply is so short and he doesn’t seem as bubbly as he usually does. There’s something going on.
“Mr. Horan?” the lady from the counter calls him.
“Just a sec,” he tells us, “I’ll be right back.”
“Please, let’s leave already,” the tourist begs with a weird expression on his face. He seems sad or bothered, I don’t know.
“Who is he? He was a douche to me.”
“He is always a douche,” he adds as he fidgets with his hands, “You remind me of him.”
“What? I’m not like him at all,” I keep staring at the hottie by the counter, “He is hot though,” I regret my comment as soon as it leaves my mouth.
“It’s sweet to see your gay side coming out but I need to leave right now.”
“What’s wrong with you? Who is this guy?”
“He is Niall,” he says and he is still trying not to look at him.
“I know that. He already mentioned his name,” I frown at him. I’m starting to pity the tourist because he looks so nervous and different. Like he needs protection or something, “Are you about to cry?” I’m surprised because I could actually swear that I’m seeing some tears forming on his eyes.
“He is my ex,” he coughs nervously, “Please let’s leave.”
“Your ex?” I’m shocked because the hottie doesn’t seem gay at all.
“Yes,” he answers, “He’s the reason why I don’t date anymore. He is acting nice now because he is probably curious about who you are,” I can see his small body trembling and that’s making me feel weird stuff inside.
“Relax,” I tell him, “You can’t let him affect you like this,” I have no idea why I’m being so nice to him but I guess he is my friend now and I can’t stand to see him so unprotected and acting like that. I can’t believe I’m feeling this but I kind of miss the old tourist.
“I’ll tell you the story later,” he rushes to answer, “He is coming back. I’ll come up with an excuse. Just follow my lead. Please?”
The hottie walks to us and I can tell he is inspecting me, “So,” he says and stays in silence, as we all do, “Weird to see you with someone,” he tells Louis, “You are always alone.”
That was rude and I saw how much it hurt him, “Um,” the tourist is actually stuttering, “He is Harry,” he struggles to find the words.
“I’m Harry,” I interrupt him, “His boyfriend.”
Oh, No. Where did that come from?
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