unplanned-love-3

Subject: Unplanned love chapter 03 Nifty is a free site, but still requires funds to continue operating. Please provide a donation at fty/ This story is 100% fictional. Any resemblances to actual people (living or dead), organizations or companies, events are entirely coincidental. Comments are welcomed and would be very much appreciated. Asterisk (*) will be used for past events, dreams or thoughts. …… . …… Chapter 03 It’s past ten when I make it to the hotel, the wheels of my suitcase purring next to me as I make my way through the lobby. There aren’t many people in reception at that time of night, just two guys chatting on a wide black sofa, another reading a book near the corner table, a woman working on her laptop at the bar, and a couple relaxing with a drink nearby, so I have no trouble checking in. Well… “I’m sorry Mr. Weidenfeld, we are already full,” says the receptionist, looking carefully at the computer screen. “And I can’t find your reservation.” “But I made one. Today, during lunchtime. Please, I’ve had quite a day. I just want a place to lie down.” I say, almost crying. Since I arrived everything that could go wrong is going wrong. It took me almost a hour to get a taxi to drive me from the train station to the hotel. I’m totally exhausted and I just want to sleep. “Oh, I found it,” she smiles apologetically. “It’s just that today is my first day and I’m unfamiliar with the system…” I let out a sigh of pure relief five minutes later as I wrap my fingers around the card for room 221. As I step into the elevator on my way to the fourth floor, I can feel every tense muscle in my body, the burning sensation in the my chest that intensifies as the seconds pass. I struggle to concentrate on the movements of my body and keep my mind blank. If I don’t think, I won’t have to deal with the problems, only the echoes of pain. The sight of the king-size bed in the centre of the spacious room almost makes me cry. I leave my suitcase and backpack next to the door and stretch out on the fluffy mattress, using one foot to take off one of my shoes. The aroma of lemon and steam takes over the room, giving the dark furniture and the grey tone of the walls a warmer, cosier look. I jump out of bed as I hear the bathroom door opening and bend down to pick up something, anything, to protect myself from whoever is there. But I can only find my shoe. I hold it like a weapon. A man comes out of the bathroom, drying his hair… totally naked. And once again my eyes catch the sleeve tattoo on the guy’s right arm. *Marcel,* I realize with desperation. “What the hell!” Marcel exclaims confused. “What are you doing in my room?” My face is on fire. Fuck, why is he so goddamn fine?! “What are YOU doing in MY room? And naked!” So naked, the only thing covering his body are a few droplets of water. His skin is slightly red with the remaining heat from the shower. It must have been really hot in that bathroom, because, damn, even I start sweating and panting. “Can you please cover yourself and tell me why are you naked in MY room?” I repeat, a little more Erzincan Escort firmly. “Oh please, we’re both men. There’s nothing in here you’ve never seen before.” He rolls his eyes, covering his lower waist with the towel. And what’s the point? The image from seconds ago stubbornly dances in my mind. “Really, what were you thinking, barging into MY ROOM like that? Have you been following me? I have to say I’m flattered by the attention, but I’m not interested,” he grumbles, saving me from my own thoughts. “What?” But then I understand what he’s saying and push the embarrassment aside. “I’m the one who’s not interested in you. Not in the least. And no-one is following anyone. This is MY room.” I pull out the card so he can see the room number. “You’re in it. And I want you out now.” “I’m not going anywhere. This is my room. I got here first, as you can see. So it’s you the one who’s leaving.” He crosses his arms. “Well, I’m not leaving.” I sit down in bed. Silent and sinuous like a panther facing its prey, Marcel approaches the bed. I should’ve stood up and faced him. But the thing is, my brain has gone into screensaver mode and refuses to restart. It’s way too much smooth skin to absorb. And I wonder if his tattoo has any special meaning or he just found the cybernetic drawing that goes from his shoulder to his forearm cool. A tiny droplet of water glistens on his chest, and I find myself wanting to dry it off with the tip of my finger. *Maybe my tongue would be even bet-…* “Liam, you need to leave.” Marcel’s voice, imperative and impatient, saves me from that vortex of wandering thoughts. “I said I’m not leaving. I’m exhausted and I paid for the room. But feel free to make yourself comfortable.” I point to the door. Marcel’s features mould into a bored scowl, but then smiles evilly. “With pleasure.” Without any embarrassment, he loosens the towel that covers his hips with a determined tug and starts drying his hair, so that I’m face to face with his huge dick. “What are you doing?” I shout, trying to hide the view with my shoe. “What you suggested. Making myself at home.” “That’s not what I meant!” I protest. “Would you please cover yourself up?” “I should. But then I’d be nice, and you don’t want that, remember?” He goes back to dry his hair, as if I’m not even there. When he’s done, he throws the towel on the floor and bends down to open his suitcase that only now I notice it’s next to mine. I’m so exhausted from the trip, that I didn’t really inspect the room when I entered it. I don’t want to look. That’s the last thing I need at that moment – though I really don’t know exactly what I want at that moment – but my eyes are dragged to the black ink on his arm. Marcel and I are almost the same size. He’s a bit taller. While I’m 5’9, he’s 6’1. I’m fit and toned in the right places from morning joggings and running from here to there because of work. He, however, has a greek god body. It’s clear that the guy spends hours in the gym. Distracted, I wonder what it would feel like to fit my tired body into such hot-looking Erzincan Escort Bayan musculature, letting my hands venture all over… *Argh! What the hell am I thinking?* “I-I think there was a mistake.” I hurry to pick up my backpack. “They put us in the same room.” “Oh really? I hadn’t thought of that.” He says sarcastically, putting on underwear. “I’ll go down and check what happened. I just need to get dressed first. You can watch the show, if you want.” “I’ll do that. I mean, go to the reception. Not watch your show and… umm… then, OK.” Unsteady, with one shoe on my foot and another in my hand, I take my suitcase and fly out the room. My breathing comes out in jerks, heavy, shaky. I stop in front of the elevator just as the doors open and the girl at the reception desk comes out, crashing into me. My shoe and the backpack fall to the floor, and I don’t join them only because the wall holds me up. “Mr. Weidenfeld, I am so sorry!” She kneels down, hastily picking up my belongings. “I just realized I made a terrible mistake. The room to which I assigned you to has already been taken. That shouldn’t have happened. I’ve put you in a superior suite. I hope that the comfort of the room is enough to erase any embarrassment.” I doubt anything would be able to erase what I saw. The image of Marcel naked, wet and hot seems tattooed in my mind. The girl carries my suitcase to the right room and excuses herself again before leaving me alone. I’m still shaking when I stop at the minibar and pick up a few small bottles of vodka. Hmm… whiskey, I correct myself after taking a sip from one of them. I think about calling Nina and telling her what happened with Marcel, but then I remember that I also have to mention Fred, and talking about him is the last thing I want to do at that moment. So I lay on the bed, still dressed, sipping the entire contents of the whiskey bottles, as if by doing so I can drain the emotions from within my heart, an illusion so weak that it doesn’t last more than three seconds. The drink loosens my tight muscles, but it doesn’t have much effect on the annoying buzzing in my thoughts. I turn on the TV, turning up the volume until I can no longer hear the thoughts in my mind. I know I shouldn’t be drinking too much. I need to be in one piece for the meeting with Ivan in the morning and with Bianca in the afternoon. I can’t afford to curl up in a corner and cry, allowing defeat to consume me and stifle my creativity. Fred wrecked my heart and my pride. I’m not going to let him do the same with my career. Marcel said a lot of stupid things since we met, but that’s because he’s an idiot, he can’t help it. *An idiot with a hot body*, my brain tries to show me all the rich details of the beautiful anatomy, especially the generous back, the elegant tattoo, the muscled chest, and his big… “Where am I going with this again?” I ask myself, taking a long sip of whiskey, feeling the drink burning in the back of my throat. Ah, yes! Even though Marcel is an idiot, he said something relevant during the trip. ‘You Escort Erzincan shouldn’t give him so much power.’ And I’m not going to. I won’t allow Fred to ruin anything else in my life. Not him or anyone. I won’t ever get emotionally attached to another guy again. I won’t allow anyone to have the power to hurt me like that. From that moment on, I’ll become an impenetrable rock, keeping my heart hidden under an iceberg. I’m good at that. I’m great at pushing everything I can’t deal with into a dark corner of my soul, where I rarely allow myself to revisit. And with that thought and empty bottles of whiskey in my hands, I fall asleep. A few hours later, I wake up from a nightmare, screaming my lungs out. I sit up abruptly, my hand flattens over my panting chest. Groping in the darkness, I reach for my phone on the bedside table. My fingers tremble over the screen as I try look for my mother’s number. It seems like an eternity before someone picks up. “Mom!” I squeeze the phone, as if I can hug her tightly. “Mom is asleep.” Lukas whispers. “It’s four fifty in the morning, Liam. Is everything alright?” I let out a sigh, “Lukas… I’m sorry… I didn’t see the time. I just wanted to… talk to you guys before starting my day. It’s going to be full day today.” “Liam, I think you should slow down. You’ve been testing your limits these past two years and you need to stop it, or else you’ll start to feel burnout.” A knock on the door makes me groan in the dark. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Or will be, at some point. “There’s someone knocking my door. I’m going to have to hang up, but I plan on going to see you two once I’m done with this job. I have news. Good news.” “Did you hear what I said?” I grin, assuring my brother, I’m far from a burnout before hanging up. Honestly, sometimes it feels as if he’s the older brother for the way he talks and worries about me. I shake my head and throw my legs out of the bed, which is a bad idea. My brain weighs about a ton, violent waves tossing it from side to side. All the rest of me feels like I fell into a meat grinder. And that isn’t the bad news: all the alcohol I ingested didn’t melt my brain or drown the memories of the night into the murky waters of oblivion. Groaning, I drag myself to the door, tripping over a few bottles on the way. “Mr. Weidenfeld, is everything all right?” It’s the receptionist. “Yes, of course.” I lean my throbbing head on the door, but I don’t open it. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “One of the guests called the front desk. He heard you screaming.” “Ah. It’s just… I saw a cockroach.” That’s a pathetic excuse, but I can’t think of anything else. But I realize too late that I should have just told the truth, because the girl starts a rousing speech about how the hotel had just been recently cleaned, and that she will contact the cleaning company to complain about their incomplete work. When I finally manage to get rid of her, it’s almost six in the morning. *I better get ready*, I think as I crawl into the bathroom, mentally reviewing what little I can remember of that Thursday’s schedule: a) convincing Ivan that Fontaine can make his exhibition shine brighter than the sun; b) get back to Frankfurt in time for lunch with Bianca; c) ask for a few days off to visit my family in Heidelberg; d) erase Fred from my heart once for all. I cringe at the last one. *Alright, one thing at a time.*