Page 56 of Shade
Tom buries his hands in his pockets. We’re bumped and jostled through the stadium exit. “Now what?” he asks, the moonlight catching his eyes.
I’m a bundle of energy I can’t control and am practically jumping up and down after witnessing Shade win. “I’m gonna head back to the hotel and try to get into his room.”
Tom nods, tossing the empty plastic cup in his hand in the trash can. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Tom’s car smells like gas and vanilla air-fresheners. There’s one hanging from his rearview mirror in his late 90s Mustang.
I lean my head back against the headrest as we make our way through the city, my arm on the window sill.
Tom reaches forward and adjusts the volume on the stereo, the low bass thumping against my back. It reminds me of the music in the stadium tonight, and my thoughts return to Shade and his performance.
A waft of fuel hits my senses, and I realize it’s me. I smell like the dirt bikes and I fucking love it. Closing my eyes, I take a fist full of my hair and smell it, warmth spreading through me.
I hope Shade still smells like this when I see him later.
Look at me, utterly convinced I have a chance at seeing him. At least I’m optimistic, right?
My lips tug into a smile, knocked around when Tom pulls into the valet drive of Wellington Suites and shifts the car into park.
He doesn’t say anything, his stare strangely focused on his phone in his hand.
I glance at him. “Who you texting?”
“No one.” And then he raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
Jesus. He’s kind of being a brat now. “Yeah, thanks for the ride.”
He snorts, tossing his phone into the cup holders next to his seat. “Hope it’s everything you want.”
“Are you mad?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m late for meeting up with someone.”
Someone means a girl.
“Okay, well I won’t keep you.”
He stares straight ahead, nods, and then his tires squeal as he leaves the drive. I don’t have time to contemplate his bizarre behavior tonight. I have to prepare myself for the best night ever.
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN you’ve been waiting on something for so long, and it’s finally happening? Or rather the anticipation of the possibility of it happening.
Overdose on emotions. And it’s the same as a drug overdose. I’m sure of it.
Do you see the girl with the crazy curly hair nervously pacing the penthouse suite?
Do you know why she’s nervous?
Hello! I’m in his room. A room I’ve been trying to get inside of for over a year. And then it hits me, this dude’s famous and I’m a hotel employee about to get naked on his bed.
One. I could get fired over this.
Two. Mila wouldn’t let that happen.
My mind scrambles all over the place. I think about weird things. Like hoping my vagina is clean. I did sweat a lot so I make sure to spray some perfume down there.
And then I think about how I should present myself to him. Or how long I’m going to be waiting for him to get back to the hotel. What if he brings a girl up here? Then what?
Fuck. I didn’t think of that. Would I hide in the closet and cry as he fucked her?
