Page 74 of Written By a Woman

Me: I’m too exhausted to eat.

I set my phone on my stomach, refusing to get up off of the bed in search of food. I just wanted to sleep for a week straight, maybe find a tub to soak my feet in. Unfortunately, the small town of Newport didn’t have the fanciest hotels with tubs. The hotel were staying at was pretty basic.

I felt my phone buzz again.

Zaid: What room are you in?

I raised my eyebrows, checking the time on my phone to see that it was 9:03 pm.

I texted him my room number and nothing else, wondering what he would possibly say in response.

I waited and waited.

At some point, I was pretty sure I dozed off, because I was startled by a knock on my hotel room door, and I felt cold drool on the side of my mouth that I quickly tried to wipe away.

According to my phone, it was now 9:37 pm.

I stood, wincing at my poor achy feet as I padded over to answer the door, embracing the fact that I was wearing a comfy light grey shirt with the words “Hello darkness my old friend, I stood up too fast again” in black lettering, and black bike shorts.

After opening the door, I had to struggle to keep my jaw from falling in shock at the sight of Zaid in grey sweatpants, a white t-shirt that hid nothing about his physique, holding a takeout bag of food that immediately made my mouth water.

He smelled like he also recently showered, his cologne mixing with the scent of barbeque making my head spin.

“I brought nourishment,” Zaid held the bag up with a playful grin on his face, his dark eyes shining behind his glasses.

I almost broke down in tears, not realizing just how hungry I was after two days of chasing Brandon around a massive warehouse for the sake of my job.

“You’re my hero,” I sighed as I opened the door wider, allowing him to come in.

Zaid smirked as he crossed the threshold, setting the food down on the entertainment center because there wasn’t a kitchen table to eat at. Just two wooden chairs that he grabbed with each hand and moved to the front of the entertainment center, creating a makeshift eating area for the two of us before he started pulling boxes of food out of the takeout bag.

I just stood there, watching him make himself at home in my hotel room.

God, what I wouldgiveto be a victim of the only-one-bed trope right now.

No, Signe, I scolded myself,we’re behaving. We’re professional and I don’t want to see anyone from management naked.

“Signe?” Zaid asked, making me snap out of my fantasies and take a seat in one of the chairs.

“What’s on the menu?” I asked, playing it cool after he caught me staring at him. Probably with a very horny gaze.

“Um,” Zaid got back to assembling the paper plates, which must have come with the takeout and plastic cutlery, “I just got brisket, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and these buttery garlic rolls this place was known for.”

“Sold,” I snagged a roll out of his hand before he could put it on one of the plates, taking a large bite and feeling my eyeballs roll into the back of my head at the taste of buttery, garlicky carbs.

“It’s good?” Zaid asked with a huff of laughter at my reaction.

“So damn good,” I took the plate he handed me with everything else, not wasting time.

We didn’t talk much as we both ate, which would normally embarrass me, but I realized I felt comfortable sitting in silence with him while we ate our meals. We could exchange small pleasantries here and there, more along the lines of “this is delicious” and “I’ve never had brisket this good” and “what is in this barbeque sauce?”

Only about twenty minutes later, after my stomach felt like it was going to burst because I ate so quickly, did I take a moment to appreciate how intimate this moment was between us.

Sure, we had been alone together before. In his office, at his sister’s house in her living room, but never in a hotel room.

Not with a king-sized bed mere feet away from us, as if it was a bright red sign reminding me what consenting adults liked to do when a king-sized bed was present. Days after the heated looks we exchanged with each other at LAX. Minutes after he bought me food.

“So,” I cleared my throat as I set my plate in the takeout bag that was now serving as a trash bag, “Do you think the meetings with Boson went well?”

---