Page 82 of Elven Throne

“Noted. No more pizza.”

They ate the whole thing anyway, the steep silence in the motel room broken only by the constant sound of chewing and swallowing or Maxwell chugging down a bottle of water halfway through.

And when the food was gone, that silence remained.

Then it seemed nothing they’d been through together had ever been as awkward or uncomfortable as sitting here, alone, with nothing else to do for the time being.

They’d already gone by the Nexus vault to pick up more emergency funds and a few other odds and ends. They’d replaced their clothes and picked up a few other necessities and creature comforts at the Goodwill. Something about where they were now, though, felt more off, more tense, than anywhere else they’d been.

Apparently, lying low at a motel and waiting for word from the Blackmoon Elf didn’t lend itself to a whole lot of conversation. Even when they clearly had plenty of time for it.

Or maybe it was the fact that they’d stopped at a motel to share a room for the night with one queen-sized bed.

Probably a combination of both.

And neither of them had any idea how long this silent stasis of waiting for Rowan with no other missions or field ops or emergencies to fill their time was going to last.

After cleaning up the empty pizza box and napkins and double checking that everything else they needed was still in the duffel bag, Rebecca found herself wishing they had something else to do.

They’d had more than enough to discuss during their walk through the trees and had finally found the time to touch on it all.

But now, everything was different.

Had they really already run out of things to talk about now that no pressing emergency existed?

Was this just as insufferable for him as it was for her?

They took turns in the shower, which only made this more uncomfortable and surprisingly tense when Rebecca felt his every pacing footstep across the motel room, from where she stood in the shower with the bathroom door closed, and she didn’t know what to do with herself when they switched and she waited for him.

She sat on the bed once for comfort’s sake but immediately scrambled off it when it occurred to her that hemightsee it as a suggestive invitation, and that certainly wasn’t what she wanted.

Or was it?

Probably, yes, but not like that. Not here.

And why was she thinking about this now and worrying herself over it for no reason?

It wasn’t like she’d spent every single night during her few centuries of hiding on Earth completely alone.

But none of those one-night stands with passing strangers had ever wound her upthistightly.

Because she hadn’t cared about any of them. That was why.

With Maxwell, it was different.

And so fucking complicated…

So she sat in the room’s single armchair badly in need of a new upholstery job, slumped her forearms over the scratchy armrests, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

She hadn’t really slept in days, and even the lumpy armchair provided enough comfort and rest for her to start drifting off so she could catch up on some of it.

But then the bathroom door squealed open, and Maxwell walked out, towel-drying his hair with one hand.

Rebecca immediately opened her eyes.

At least he’d put clothes on first.

He glanced her way, leaned back into the bathroom to hang up the towel, then walked slowly around the room with a sigh. When his gaze landed on her again, she almost squirmed beneath it.

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