Page 15 of Paper Hearts & Plot Twists

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, her voice rough and sleepy. She placed her hands on his chest, and then his face. “Are you okay?” Miles felt the heat of her body atop his own, her legs on either side of his hips, and he couldn’t help but think about this same position sans the pile of blankets. The same position that had featured rather nicely in his dream. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a sex dream.

“I’m fine,” Miles responded, his voice coming out gruffer than he intended. He shook his head to get those thoughts off his mind. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking naughty thoughts about his delectable roommate.

Emily pushed herself to her feet. Her pajamas clung to her body, revealing all those curves that had pressed against him moments before. Her face was bright red, her hair a curly disaster, and Miles couldn’t help but think she’d look the same after he’d wrapped a handful of that hair around his fingers and pulled her head back as he slammed forward.

Emily bent down for the blanket pulling him from the all too inappropriate thoughts, and he watched as she re-wrapped the blanket around her body and crawled back into bed. Miles smiled at the image she made, her grumpy face and messy hair peeking out of the blanket burrito. Emily pushed her face into the pillow, eyes closed and peaceful once more. She looked asleep already, and he was amazed that she was able to do that in so little time.

Miles stood and stretched his arms over his head, letting out another wide yawn. He needed to shower and take care of a problem. He usually waited another half hour to get up for the day, but since he was already wide awake, now was as good a time as any. Miles made his way into the bathroom and before long he was back in the main room, clean and dressed. He moved over to the table in the room where he’d left his laptop, opened it, and turned to his document, starting on the next scene in his book so he could stay on track with his project timeline.

Emily’s horrified voice pulled him out of the dialogue he was working through, “What on earth are you doing?”

Miles looked up from his computer to her. She was still on the bed wrapped in blankets. Her face was contorted into equal parts of annoyance and horror, the only part of her that was visible. It was amusing how shocked she seemed by such a normal routine.

“I’m getting some writing done,” Miles answered slowly.

“Why aren’t you going back to sleep? It’s five thirty in the morning.”

“I always write in the morning. This is a little bit earlier than I usually start, but with the way I was woken this morning I figured it would be easier to start a half hour earlier than try to go back to sleep or relax for a bit first.”

Emily dropped her head back to the pillow with a groan, then pulled another of the pillows from the edge of the bed over her head. Miles blinked at her for a moment, not quite sure what to make of her, but ultimately decided it wasn’t his problem and got back to writing. He ignored the huffing and rolling she was doing. If she had a problem, she could have a conversation about it like an adult.

Miles looked up when Emily finally dragged herself out of bed. He smirked when she sent him a nasty look before she stomped to her suitcase, grabbed some clothes, then stomped into the bathroom. A moment later the sound of the shower filled the room. She was acting like a petulant child. It was amusing and gave him some ideas for his current character. She obviously wasn’t a morning person. Instead of being annoyed, he was entertained.

Miles shook his head and turned his attention back to his manuscript. He’d like to say he was being productive today and had been able to get a lot done, but he’d be lying. Writing this portion of his book felt like pulling teeth, and nothing was coming easy for him. He’d had writers block before, but this felt like a whole new beast, one that would be the death of him.

A knock at the door pulled Miles from his brooding. He stood, happy for an excuse to get away from the document. Miles opened the door and grinned at the employee pushing a giant cart full of food. “Breakfast delivery,” the man said, holding out a tray to Miles.

“Thank you,” Miles said, grabbing hold of the setup. He carried it back into the room, using his ankle to kick the door closed behind him. He carried the tray over to his desk and glanced over the breakfast selection. His breakfast was here, but he didn’t see anything for Emily. He assumed she probably didn’t eat breakfast. She didn’t seem to be a morning person. He shrugged, grabbed the coffee, and took a slow sip, savoring the rich flavor.

Miles set it down next to his computer and turned back to the document, though still nothing came to him. The characters fell flat. The dialogue felt empty. Interactions were stilted. He didn’t know what was missing, but if it continued, this next book would be a complete nightmare, a total flop.

Inside the bathroom, the shower turned off, and Miles heard movement behind the closed door. He tried to focus on the words in the document, but his mind kept flashing to her sleep-mussed hair, and that supple body he hadn’t seen, but had definitely felt this morning as she lay atop him from the tumble.

The bathroom door opened, and steam poured from the room followed by Emily dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved blouse. Miles forced himself to look away from her and back to the screen. Staring was rude, he reminded himself, though he caught himself glancing out of the corner of his eye several more times.

Emily wandered into the room. She dropped several items next to her suitcase or haphazardly on the floor, then sat in the opposite chair to Miles so they were sharing the same table. Emily reached over and grabbed the mug by his computer, Miles jumped and stared as she closed her eyes and took in a long sip.

“That’s mine,” he protested, his voice taking on an affronted edge.

“I ordered coffee on the breakfast form I filled out for the conference, so this is definitely mine,” she argued, holding the mug tightly.

“Well maybe you ordered wrong. I ordered coffee and that’s exactly the blend,” Miles said. He reached over to take the mug, though Emily moved her hands to keep it out of his reach. Miles stood getting closer to her. Emily hardened her face and stared back with a stubborn twist to her mouth.

“This is mine, and I’m not giving it back.”

“I’m not asking, I’m demanding,” Miles said, reaching for the cup. He held the edge of the cup firmly, while Emily continued to keep a grasp on the handle. Neither was willing to concede defeat in this matter. Morning coffee was too dang important.

Miles gave an experimental tug, just as Emily seemed to have the same idea. Warm coffee splashed, splattering Emily’s jeans and shirt. She jumped, flinching away from the warm liquid. She released the cup in surprise, but because Miles had been tugging it, it flew back at him, dumping the rest of the coffee all over him and his fresh shirt of the day.

Miles cursed. He grabbed one of the napkins from the tray to dab at the liquid soaked into his shirt and sweats, but it was no use. Emily hadn’t moved yet, her eyes and mouth both wide open in shock.

“If you hadn’t been so selfish, this wouldn’t have happened,” she accused with narrowed eyes.

“Selfish? Because I wanted the coffee I ordered and had started drinking? I think it was pretty selfish to try to take my cup away from me in the first place.”

“You’re impossible,” Emily snapped. She reached forward to grab a napkin and started to press it into her jeans, though Miles could already tell it was a useless endeavor.

“I’m not arguing with you,” Miles said with a frown. “I’m going to change” He turned away and stomped toward the bathroom with his suitcase in tow. He’d have to use one of his backup outfits for the day now that his current choice had been ruined. But he wasn’t about to spend any extra time in the same room as that infuriating woman. If things kept up this way he wouldn’t last to the end of the day let alone the end of the week. This conference was going to end up a total nightmare.

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