Page 133 of Hale Yes
“You’ll need a key to get back up here. I put one on your purse beside the door,” he calls to my retreating back, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.
Stepping into the shorts, I head straight for the exit, snagging my purse and the key card as I do. As soon as I enter the elevator, I realize I’m barefoot because I left my shoes in Helix’s room, as well as my dress. The man had me so damned flustered with his sexy ass and rumpled hair and big dick.
I press the button for floor six, but the elevator makes a stop on ten. Angelica’s friend, Annette, enters with a bucket of ice, looking me up and down with a raised brow. “Good night?”
“Mmhmm,” I say noncommittally before remembering Helix is supposed to be my boyfriend, and I’m obviously doing the barefoot walk of shame from his room. “Helix surprised me, and I already had a room. All my clothes are in there.”
“He seems nice,” Annette says before fanning herself. “And he totally gives off some serious BDE.”
“With good reason,” I assure her, staring up at the numbers as the cart descends.
“I had to go get ice for your sister. She’s on the warpath this morning.”
“Welp, good luck with that,” I shoot back, stepping off the elevator as soon as the doors open.
Annette follows and then groans when we both hear Angelica shrieking at a hotel worker. “This is unacceptable. Do you not realize I amthe bride?You should be bending over backward for me.”
Annette jogs to keep up with me as we grow closer to the screaming. Luckily, my bridezilla sister’s room is at the very end of the hallway, so I don’t have to pass it to get to mine.
“Please don’t make me go back in there,” Annette hisses, and I give her the most apathetic look I can muster.
“You’re the one who’s chosen to be her friend all these years,” I say, opening my door and stepping inside. The click of the door behind me is so, so satisfying. Those who tolerate bullying are just as guilty as the ones who bully, and I have no sympathy for Annette.
After rinsing off in the shower and dressing, I walk back out of my room to hear the bridezilla still screaming. “This room is shitty. It’s just a regular room. Why am I not in the penthouse?”
“Because you didn’t pay for the penthouse, Ms. Bell,” the hotel worker replies.
“My father will pay. Get it for me.” I swear, her audacity is completely over the top.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s already a guest in the penthouse.”
She lets out a shriek of frustration, and I laugh as I walk down the hallway, her rant fading away as she insists they kick out the other guest because she’s “the bride, goddammit.”
Breakfast was nice this morning. Helix and I ate and talked, not about anything significant, and it felt so natural and normal. My heart is still guarded though.
The story he told me last night was heartbreaking, and I can’t say it didn’t soften my feelings toward him just a bit. I believed him when he said he wasn’t making excuses for his behavior, and I honestly think he just wanted me to understand him on a deeper level.
We all have past experiences that color the way we view or respond to things, and that’s fair. Having trust issues is completely understandable in his case. Hell, I’ve had the same problem because I grew up feeling like I had no one I could fully trust. When the people who are supposed to be your baseline means of support constantly let you down, you’re left wary of putting your faith in anyone. So I can relate to him on that point.
The problem is that Ididput my faith in Helix, and he let me down by suspecting me of horrible things. Was what he did unforgivable? I’m honestly not sure, but I’m leaning toward no. I’m not telling him that though because I want to see what this wooing is all about.
Starting now.
We’re at Rory and Angelica’s reception, and I just escaped an arduous conversation with my long-winded Aunt Bibi about her bladder issues. I see Helix exiting the hallway leading to the restrooms and move to intercept him.
“Come on,” I say, taking his hand and leading him toward the light-up dance floor. I’m fully aware Helix Hale doesn’t dance. He’s told me that on numerous occasions, so this is a bit of a test.
“Where are we going?” he asks nervously.
“I love this song and want to dance,” I say, glancing back to see his face pinkening with what I’m sure is panic.
“W-with me?”
I stop, swivel on my heel, and plop a hand on my hip, lifting one eyebrow. “Unless there’s someone else here you’d like to see me dance with.”
With a frown and a grumbled, “Fine, come on,” he leads me to the far corner of the floor, positioning us in a glowing blue square. “Don’t blame me if your toes suffer.”
Hiding my smile, I look up at him. “Is it really such a hardship to hold me close to you?”
