Only You by K.T. Quinn

6

Donovan

The Day I Scared Her Off

It’s her, I thought with a chuckle. Of course it’s her.

I should have known. It’s not like there were a lot of people in our hotel right now. The chaos from the lockdowns had made me forget all about her tirade in the lobby the other day.

It was just the other day, wasn’t it? It felt like much longer than that. Like the entire world had changed in the past forty-eight hours. Getting mistakenly yelled at seemed so quaint compared to the problems we were all dealing with now. It was actually kind of funny.

But Molly, the girl I’d been texting with for the past day, looked mortified. Her mouth hung open, and she blinked rapidly like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

So I decided to break the ice with a joke. “If I give you food, do you promise not to yell at me again?”

The joke had the opposite effect. All the color drained from her oval face. “I… I was…”

She looked at the door like she wanted to flee back inside. She took a step in that direction while staring at me like I really was Hannibal Lecter.

“I think I’m going to go…”

“Wait!” I said. My voice was muffled through my mask. “Don’t you want your food?” I hefted one of the bowls enticingly.

Molly looked at the door, then looked back at the bowl of food. The hunger in her eyes was obvious. I approached the railing and held the bowl across. I felt like a bird-watcher trying to convince a scared hummingbird to perch on my finger.

She leaned across the gap to take the bowl. But her hands were trembling, and the bowl slipped from her fingers. We both gazed down and watched it smash onto the ground three stories below, scattering pieces of porcelain and red pasta in all directions.

“Damn, I’m so sorry,” she said in a rush. “I’m such a mess right now, and I’m embarrassed…”

“Don’t sweat it,” I said. “I made a big batch. Take this bowl. But don’t drop it.”

I leaned the other bowl across the railing. She reached out and carefully took it with both hands. Only when the bowl was safely over her balcony did she breathe a sigh of relief.

“Let’s start over,” I began.

Before I could say anything more, she blurted out, “I don’t think it’s safe to eat outside after all. Sorry.”

She opened her balcony door and disappeared inside. The bottle of wine was still sitting on the table, unopened.

“That went well,” I muttered to myself as I went back into my room. I retrieved a fresh bowl, filled it with pasta from the pot on the stove, and then went back out on the balcony to eat. Maybe she would change her mind and join me. She did forget about her wine, after all.

While eating my spinach farfalle with red sauce, I noticed Molly peeking through the curtains next door. Whenever I looked over, the curtains quickly swayed back into place. After this happened three times, I pulled out my phone.

Donovan: What happened in the lobby the other day isn’t a big deal. Come enjoy the food with me.

Donovan: Unlike the real Hannibal, I promise I don’t bite.

She didn’t respond, and she didn’t come back out. I lingered long enough to watch the sun set beneath the Colosseum to the west, then carried my bowl back inside.

I put the leftovers in the fridge and cleaned up. My kitchenette had a single stove burner, but I really wished it had an oven so I could bake. In the last week at cooking school I’d learned how to make perfect garlic bread, but I didn’t have a way to practice.

I’ll practice when I get back to Boston, I thought. Whenever that is.

Since I couldn’t bake my own desserts, I had to improvise. Restrictions were the mother of creativity, after all. I went to the vending machine in the hallway and took three milk chocolate bars and a bag of shortbread cookies. I broke the chocolate up into small pieces and put them in a glass bowl, which I suspended over a pot of boiling water. I mixed the chocolate with a spoon until it was evenly melted and smooth, then I dipped each individual cookie inside. I didn’t have any parchment paper, so I cleaned off the counter next to the stove and put the cookies there. Once the chocolate had cooled and hardened, I placed four of the cookies on a paper towel and placed them in the partition between our two rooms.

Donovan: Dessert is served. Compliments of the vending machine and a lot of creativity.

Donovan: Unlike the pasta, I can guarantee the cookies are not poisoned.

Molly: Thank you. Sorry for the lobby thing.

Donovan: Seriously, don’t sweat it. Want to eat the cookies outside? It’s a beautiful night.

She didn’t respond, which meant the answer was no. I chewed on the inside of my lip while thinking about it. What more could I do to convince her that the lobby misunderstanding wasn’t a big deal? After all, we had much bigger problems to worry about.

I was running low on eggs, so I couldn’t make her breakfast in the morning. But maybe I could win her over with some sort of grilled sandwich…

I shook my head. Why was I trying so hard to make this girl feel comfortable? If she wanted to be embarrassed about the lobby thing forevermore, then that was her business. It didn’t affect me at all.

It wasn’t because I was lonely. I liked being alone. I’d been that way my entire life, since my family moved around so much. Lots of army brats learned to make new friends easily because of the frequent reassignments, but I went in the opposite direction and learned to enjoy solitude. I liked it when things were quiet. It meant I could be alone with my thoughts.

I know why I’m trying so hard.

I bit into one of the cookies and thought about how Molly had looked on the balcony. She was wearing a summer dress that hugged her curves nicely, with a plunging neckline that showed a lot of cleavage. Cleavage which she had plenty of. Her hair ran down her back like a waterfall of dark silk. Those plump lips that hung open with shock, then pursed tightly with embarrassment when she dropped the bowl of pasta. Molly looked like she had dressed up for a date.

She looked so good that my cock pulsed with the mere memory of her.

Okay, I thought. I’m trying hard because I have a hotel crush.

I decided not to worry about her. If she wanted to be standoffish, she could go right ahead for all I cared. As soon as this lockdown ended in a few days, we would never see each other again.

But as I stripped down to my boxer-briefs and went to sleep, I couldn’t get the image of Molly out of my head.