Hooked 3 (Hooked #3)(11)

We reached the eighteenth floor. The elevator opened and we marched directly into the grandest hotel room I’d ever seen. We walked down a few stone steps to where the floor was open. It led us to the bedroom, which was next to a great window that stretched from floor to ceiling. A kitchen, to the right of the bedroom, featured two glasses of already poured champagne, glistening in the soft light of a pre-lit candle.

I gasped, looking at it. I stepped forward. “Drew. What?” I was half-laughing, half-crying.

Drew reached forward and picked up both glasses. He brought one of them toward me and held the other in his own hand. I accepted it by its skinny stem and clinked the glass into his. The bubbles skirted up my nose, down my throat, nearly tickling me. I felt the beautiful color of it, the life of the drink in my stomach. I sighed, looking at him—this remarkable man. I couldn’t fall in love with him. I couldn’t f*ck him. But this champagne—this room. It was so much more than anything I had ever known.

I noticed, then, that there was only one bed behind me. I turned, looking at it, shaking my head. I felt my eyelids begin to close after the long drive, the long week of work. I couldn’t sleep next to Drew. I wouldn’t be able to keep myself off him. If he leaned toward me; if he kissed me, I would simply dive into his arms and never get out. As a result, I was certain he would hurt me. I knew I would hate myself. It couldn’t happen.

I turned back toward him, noting that his eyes were on me. “Only one bed?” I asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders, looking at me stoically. “We’ve slept next to each other before.”

“Sure. But we were always naked.”

“I like sleeping naked. It’s good for the skin,” he answered cheekily, allowing his dimples to show.


I hummed, unsure of what to do. “Are you—are you tired?”

“I was thinking we wouldn’t go out tonight, if that’s what you mean,” Drew began. “I want to go out tomorrow night. To this most remarkable place. You’ll love it.” He grinned at me once more. He couldn’t keep his dark pupils off me. He looked toward the bed once more. “Do you mind if I sit on the bed for a moment and take off my shoes?”

Suddenly flustered, I gestured toward the bed, unsure of what to do. “Of course. Of course. Take off your shoes.”

He sat silently, gazing up at me. I thought about placing my body over his, kissing his lips. I backed away toward the champagne, and poured us two more glasses. I would fall asleep soon if I kept drinking, I knew. I nearly choked on the bubbles this time as I drank.

“You know. You’re still the most beautiful woman I think I’ve ever seen,” Drew whispered, his toes now wiggling softly on the ground. He paused, considering. “You can get comfortable. I’ll sleep wherever you want me to sleep tonight. All right?”

I nodded, feeling a pull, a hesitation about myself. Should I just let him do whatever he wanted to do? He was giving me so much; he was taking me all over, from benefit to luxurious hotel. And yet; I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive him for taking my dance studio. I cleared my throat and spoke. “I think you should sleep on the floor.” A pause emanated throughout the room. We couldn’t make eye contact.

Drew got up from the bed stoically and pulled the blankets down from the top of the bed, giving me a space to lie down. “Good night,” he murmured. He began to remove his clothes on his route to the bathroom, tossing them this way, then that. “Sleep tight.”

I lay down in the bed, feeling the way the mattress gave beneath my back. The blankets were an alarmingly wonderful fabric, one that made me feel at the height of all things comfort, all things fashion. I inhaled and exhaled a few times, feeling a plaque of regret deep in my stomach. But I couldn’t linger on it; I couldn’t think about it. I fell into a deep sleep, allowing myself to dive into a beautiful feeling of freedom.



CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning, I woke up alone in the grand hotel room. The Iowa October light was filtering in from the outdoors and I rose, pulling the curtains to the side to see the lines and lines of dead corn from the previous harvest resonate throughout the land. It looked so much like Indiana it nearly made my skin crawl.

I walked around the hotel room, peering at everything. I found the mat on which Drew had slept the evening before. The mat’s bedding was completely made, as if he had left a long time ago.

My stomach grumbled, and I searched for the hotel phone to order up some breakfast. I dialed the number and someone immediately answered. “Monsieur Thompson?” the person answered.

“No—no. I’m his—friend.”

“Ah, Madame,” the man said knowingly.

“Right. Anyway, I was hoping to order up some breakfast.” I thought about Drew, what he would want when he got back. “How about some eggs. Some pastries. Some mimosas.” I paused. “Perhaps some fruit?”

“Yes, Madame. Right away.” He hung up the phone and I felt the whirr of excitement, of activity erupt beneath me. The kitchen was making its grand many-course breakfast feast.

I paced around the room, waiting. I had no idea where Drew was. I wondered if he was upset that I hadn’t slept with him the evening before, if I had ruined everything. I wondered if he was going to simply take me home and never speak to me again. I wondered if this breakfast would be my last bit of finery for the rest of my life. My heart beat loudly in my chest. I felt like a strange alien. I felt so very alone.