Page 70 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
That’s fine.
I can be quiet.
All my teammates say I’m quiet, following Troy and Finn and Dmitri around like a shadow. I’m there to laugh at their jokes. I’m there for them to on occasion shoot me incredulous looks when I’m not sufficiently enthusiastic about the prospect of turning some fully clothed woman that I’m making awkward conversation with into a naked woman on my bed that I can then make awkward sex with.
I’m quiet when we stand in front of the hotel room, I’m quiet when Sebastian braces himself, as if he’s nervous about what he’ll find on the other side, and I’m quiet when Sebastian emits a sigh that sounds too much like relief when his gaze falls on the two queen beds in the room.
I follow him into the room. The door clicks behind us.
A knock sounds on the door, and Sebastian jumps.
“I bet it’s the luggage,” I murmur, then head for it.
“I’ll get it,” Sebastian says.
He looks through the peephole, and I hide my smile.
“You see suitcases?”
“Yeah.” Sebastian unlocks the door carefully, and the bellboy strides inside, our luggage in hand.
“Thank you.” Sebastian tips him.
The bellboy looks at me shyly.
I know that gaze.
I’ve seen it before.
“I can’t believe I’m in the room with an NHL player. Too bad you play for Boston.”
“We can’t all be from Montreal.”
“Can I have a selfie?”
“Of course.” I fling my arm around him and beam into the camera.
He looks at Sebastian. “You too?”
“Um...”
I drag Sebastian, then sling my other arm around him. I groan a bit, because everything hurts, and he shoots me an alarmed look and moves forward.
I grip him more tightly.
Sebastian does not cause me pain.
He makes everything better.
“This is so cool,” the bellboy says, and we smile into the camera. Despite Sebastian’s earlier squirm, he relaxes into me, his breath shuddering, and I nudge him to remind him to keep his eyes open. He pastes his perfect, Hollywood smile on his sun-kissed face, and the warmth from his body fills me.
Then the moment is done. The bellboy moves from my arm.
“Thanks,” he says, then his eyes round, directed at the space between Sebastian and me. Which frankly is on the narrow side. As in, there’s no space between us. None at all.
I realize a moment too late this might be construed as strange, and I drop my arm from Sebastian. My reflexes are slow, sludgy from the hit that makes my mind whirl and my body ache. I want to grip hold of Sebastian to keep everything from spinning and spiraling in my muddy conscious.
“Right.” Pink once again adorns Sebastian’s cheeks, and I smile at him.
