Page 6 of Room Service
His.
It’s him.
Tingles shoot down my spine from the contact. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. My legs want to give out and allow me to collapse against the man behind me, and my heart is racing like never before. Time seems to stop as his arms tighten a little around my waist and he makes sure I’m standing upright.
Fucking breathe, Elise.
I expect him to let go, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his body pressed against my back and puts his lips by my ear to whisper, “Careful, buttercup.”
Buttercup? Never thought that could sound hot, but coming from him, it absolutely does.
“I’m so sorry,” I say breathlessly as I pull my body from him, even as it screams for me to stay pressed against him. I put my head down and glue my eyes to the mess on the floor, to see that some of the cleaning products have leaked amidst the cleaning cloths, and the rubbish bag has managed to land upside down, the contents in a pile at my feet. How the hell did I manage to make this much mess from a door knocking into me?
I drop down and crouch as I scurry to grab everything and try not to cry from sheer embarrassment.
But then he crouches too, in front of me, placing his hand on top of mine as it reaches for one of the dusting cloths. I freeze, my eyes on the back of his hand. His very nice hand that adorns a simple single silver ring, and I realise that I’ve never studied someone’s hand so intensely in my whole life. I’ve never seen a hand as attractive, but his definitely is. Good God, I’m a hot mess.
“Elise.” He says my name with authority, and my head snaps up to look at him. Fuck me, his eyes are so beautiful I could get lost in them. “It’s my fault,” he continues, his thumb now starting to run back and forth over my hand. “I shouldn’t have opened the door so quickly.”
Why is he running his thumb over my skin?
Why is he being so nice right now when I’m the one that’s made a mess?
Why is he blaming himself?
“I apologise,” he finishes, and damn me for feeling my eyes well up. “Are you okay?” The look of concern on his face has the tears pushing from my eyes and down my cheeks.
“I’m fine,” I say with a shake of my head as I quickly pull my hand from his and stand up. “I’m sorry, I’ll get someone to come and clean this up, I just have to…” I let my voice trail off as I turn for the door and rush out, leaving the mess behind, along with the first man to show me any sort of kindness in… well, ever.
I feel like an absolute fool as I tear down the hallway and head for the stairwell rather than the lift. I can’t be waiting around when I’m in this sort of state, the other guests wouldn’t like it. Hell, he may not have liked it, but I couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t contain the sheer emotion that bubbled up within me from his actions. Simple actions. Compassionate actions. From a guest. Fuck my life. Is this really what it’s come to? Is this really who I have become?
I race down the steps, willing them to carry me faster to the staff toilets. We have to use the designated toilets for staff, the closest to me being on the second floor, and I wish it were bloody closer as I make it down the fourth set of steps. Two more to go.
“Elise,” I hear shouted from above, and damn me, I pause and look up, only for my eyes to collide with his.
“I’m fine, thank you, I just need to do something,” I manage to say before I resume my steps. Two more flights of stairs and I’ll be on the right floor. I block everything out as I pull the door to the second floor open when I reach it and rush along the corridor, being careful not to plough into any guests. I know I’ll be in deep shit for my behaviour, but I fail to care at this moment in time.
When I burst into the toilets, I go to the end cubicle and lock the door behind me. And then I let it all out. I let myself cry. I allow myself this moment to just fucking hurt. I thought I was done with the hurt, but something feels like it’s slicing through my heart and reminding me how helpless I’ve really been all of these years. I sob for the young girl who took the wrong path and never had the right people in her life to guide her. I have some kind of breakdown in the middle of my shift, and I can’t for the life of me stop it.
“Elise, is that you?” I hear from the other side of the cubicle door, and I inwardly groan. Hayley. My boss. Bitch boss, to be accurate.
“Yes,” I manage to squeak out, as I desperately try to rein in my emotions once again.
“Could you come out here, please.” She may be saying please, but really, she doesn’t mean it. She’s the most uncaring woman I’ve ever met, apart from my mother, for obvious reasons. I grab some tissue and wipe my face before opening the door, to be met with the ice-cold exterior of Hayley. Oh boy. This is all I need.
“What on earth is going on?” she asks as she stands there with her hands on her hips and one of her feet tapping impatiently on the floor. She’s only a few years older than me, so you’d think we might have some things in common, but I quickly found out that she lived and breathed her job, and I concluded from her chilly manner that we would never be friends.
“I’m sorry, I just needed a minute,” I say, and she scoffs.
“You just needed a minute,” she repeats. “On work time.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Whatever is going on outside of these walls needs to be left there. There is no room for error, or for guests to see you in this state.”
“I apol—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I will be docking your pay by fifteen minutes for the inconvenience.”
