Page 15 of Resting Grump Face
Another hit, now to the other side of my head.
“Alright,” I kick off my heels and start slinging the soft weapon in my hand. “If that’s how you wanna deal with your pent-up sexual frustration and bruised ego, then so be it.”
I swing against his side, barely eliciting a snarl. I swing again, but now I aim for the head. He ducks, I spin, his pillow hits my butt.Rude.
We circle each other like lions that battle for dominance of the pack. Or rather, like one lion and one oversized gazelle that I am going to devour once I am done with it… him. Whatever. My pillow makes impact with his face twice, causing me to happy-squeal, which earns me a hit to my stomach that takes the wind out of me. Another hit to my chest makes me stumble backwards. While retreating, I throw my cushion right in his face and grab a new one from the loveseat across the room. Maybe he is right. Maybe we don’t need to actually talk. Maybe this kind of pillow talk works best for us.
Ryker takes a sip from his champagne and proceeds in my direction, only to be met with a quick barrage of pillow fire.
This surely can’t be what Olivia had in mind when she locked the two of us in here, but what did she expect? He is rude, arrogant, and, overall, just a terrible human being. How could we not fight? I guess at least this is a fairly humane way of settling our differences.
“So, you guys need a little longer still?” Thinking of the devil, Olivia pokes her head into the room. “Next time I return I wanna hear results, something to the tune of ‘Sorry, Olivia, we can’t be best friends anymore. Ryker is my new best friend now’.” Her flawless face disappears as fast as it had appeared.
“Well, the first part of that statement might come true,” I shout and throw my cushion against the now closed and quickly locked door. Ryker uses the opening and attacks with a big swingagainst my butt which, luckily, is naturally padded for precisely such an attack.
“Suck it,” he yells and swings once more.
“Nope, not gonna repeat that mistake,” I counter, use his biceps to swing around him, and grab the last pillow off the loveseat.
A quick combination to his kidney and temple cause him to lose balance for just a second. I seize my opportunity immediately and, with a swift swipe to his feet and a push to his chest, make him fall over and onto the bed. Without wasting a second, I jump on top, raise my weapon for the final blow and… freeze.
To my detriment, I stare right at the most perfect smile I have ever seen. When people speak of a disarming smile, this is what they must be talking about, because I do indeed drop my pillow-weapon right then and there. It’s genuine and warm and drop-dead-gorgeous.
Fuck.
Me.
We’re both panting hard, and yes, I am certain now: fighting does turn him on.
He uses my short state of confusion and flips me onto my back. His hand burrows into the mattress next to my head, his panting mouth hovers over mine. His breath feels warm against my skin. Then our eyes meet and?—
“Sorry,” he mutters and quickly moves off me. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Lose against someone half your size?”
“I did not lose!” he claims, even though we both know he totally did.
That smile is still there and for a split second it’s making me forget why I have been wielding pillows and provocations for the last hour or so.
Yes, he is attractive —tall, charming smile, shoulders so broad he is hard to miss with a cushion— but he is also one of the most appalling people to ever exist… probably. Just because he has a certain charm (that is entirely based on physical traits which he isn’t even responsible for) does not make up for all the horrible things he has done to become the people-using billionaire that he is, or the things that he will do in the future to solidify his status.
Ryker lets himself drop onto the bed next to me. Both of us are still panting.
“That helped,” he finally says. “You are a… n opponent.”
“Hm, wanted to say ‘worthy opponent’ but then thought it might give me too much satisfaction?”
“Yeah,” he says with a huff.
“Oh, hey, you know what? We could probably just call reception, no? They should have a key to let us out.”
Silence surrounds us for a few seconds until Ryker shoots back up. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Well, I could point out the obvious… that you’re a bit slow up here,” I tip my head, “but that seems like a cheap shot now.”
He ignores my quip and reaches for the phone on the nightstand. Two minutes later, a slightly confused hotel employee releases us from our prison. When he sees the mess we have created inside, his mouth drops open.
“Right,” Ryker says. “Don’t worry about that. We will clean up later.” He closes the door and slips the employee one ofNana’s bills. “And by we, I mean Olivia and Phoenix,” he whispers in my direction.
