"I suppose so."
Our footsteps were the only sound in the quiet dark. We were the only people on the street, and I kept looking around us. A did not do the same. We stopped at the motel, and he let go of my hand for the first time. Strangely, I missed the warmth of his skin.
The person at the front desk barely glanced up as we walked past. A took my hand again and led me up a flight of stairs. We climbed in silence until we reached a door he unlocked in seconds.
A light came on, filling the room. A walked in first, and I followed, feeling wary. Coming here had seemed like a brilliant idea back at the bar. It always does when you have had too much to drink. He stopped in the middle of the room and grinned. I made myself smile back.
"Welcome to my humble abode," he said.
Some of the cockiness from the bar seemed to have melted away, just like the buzz from the weak drinks had faded on the walk over. His room was as plain as a motel room gets, and it was tidy. Much tidier than most guys' rooms.
The mirror, the bed, the chair, and his clothes. Everything was in order. A moved toward me, and I noticed the guitar leaning against the blue wall. Did he play? I almost asked but held the question back. Just a kiss, and then I would go.
"Alright. It is time." I forced my eyes to his face, and the air left my lungs. The sunglasses were gone. There was a cut on his eyebrow I had not noticed before. I shifted my weight from foot to foot as his eyes moved over my body, undressing me with his look. For some reason, it did not upset me. I pushed my chest out a little, giving him more to look at. "It is time for my kiss."
"Right now? You do not want to talk first?"
"Do you usually pick up random girls at a bar and then ask them to your room to talk?"
"No, this is my first time." A moved his head, his eyes taking in all of me as if he could see the secrets in my heart. My thighs pressed together. "What about you? Do you usually follow random guys from a bar to their room?"
"My first time, too."
A pulled a chair toward me and then sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. I took the seat.
"Your friends said I had twenty minutes." A looked past me at an old clock on the wall. "We have about fifteen of those minutes left. So, let us talk about you."
"Me?" I pointed at my own chest. A nodded. His gaze fell to my arm and then jumped back to my face. I pulled my sleeves down over my wrists. "No. Let us talk about you."
A grinned, as if he had expected me to say that. He clasped his hands under his chin, his eyes bright with curiosity. "What do you want to know?"
"What does your tattoo mean?"
"I used to be in a band," A said without any pause. That explained the guitar. "I was so happy to belong somewhere, I got the name tattooed on my arm." He rolled his shoulder so I could see it better. I did not see a name. I saw a largeIris, if you could even call it that. "We broke up, so I had to use a bigger tattoo to cover the old one. It looks cool, right? No one can tell it is a cover-up."
There was a date inked beneath theIris-like shape. But I did not ask him about it. "Yeah, it looks really cool."
"What about you?" He took my left hand and pushed the sleeve up to show the tattoo on my wrist. I always wore long sleeves to hide it because it was a painful memory from a stupid time. His thumb moved in a slow circle over my skin. "How did you get this?"
"I am not telling you," I replied. He only lifted an eyebrow as I pulled my hand back to hide the semicolon on my wrist. "Um… how did you get that cut?"
He touched the mark on his eyebrow to be sure what I meant. I nodded. "I am not telling." Against my will, I smiled.
"You have a pretty smile, Miss Stranger." I gave him a full, real smile. A took my hand again, his finger tracing the shape of my tattoo. "You really should smile more often."
"Thanks." He let go of my hand andIris to his feet. I breathed hard as he pulled me up. He was so much taller. My palms felt damp. He closed the small space between us, his fingers brushing my cheek, and a seed of nerves began to grow deep in my stomach. His head lowered. His breath warmed my face. I licked my lips. "A? Is that really your name?"
He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, and my heart skipped. "No names, remember?"
"I… I remember."
He stepped back for just a moment. "I am about to kiss you, pretty stranger." And I wanted him to. More than anything. "You can say no. Your friends will never know."
I brought his hands up to cup my face. "Kiss me."