I drop my phone into the mess of covers and sheets before dragging a hand down my tired face. A second later, I swipe my boxers off the floor and pull them on.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I rest my hands on my hips, trying to figure out a way to tell Hannah she can’t use my phone charger because it’s time for her to go.
“Did you want to grab breakfast downstairs?” The girl reaches behind her back with impressive flexibility to get her zipper. She must do yoga. “The lounge here has the best blueberry waffles.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.” I lie. I eat breakfast, just not with nameless women I pick up in hotel bars. Every hook up serves a purpose, and her work here is done.
Stepping into her heels, she simultaneously runs a hand down the front of her wrinkled dress to smooth out a crease. “That’s too bad.”
In the dark of the room, she manages to locate her bag, and she slips her nearly-dead phone inside.
I wait until she’s finished dressing before I walk her to the door.
“I’m here until Friday,” she says, her hand on the door lever and a hint of hope in her voice. “Room 211.”
Hannah gives a timid smile, one that wholly contradicts all the wild and kinky things she did to me mere hours ago, and I almost feel bad.
There’s a Midwestern wholesomeness about her, a glimmer of hope in her pale eyes, and a naive sweetness in the way she looks at me, her mouth curled in a half-smile.
But this doesn’t have to be complicated.
I’m a shark. She’s chum.
Nature has to take its course, that’s just how it is.
“It’s been fun, Calder. Thank you. For everything.” She pulls the hotel door open and the hall light stings my vision until I look away. “Really hope we can do this again before you leave …”
I offer a tight smile, though I’m sure my true sentiments are etched on my face. I’ve never been good at bluffing when it comes to these moments.
“I’m heading back to the city,” I say. “Probably won’t see you again.”
And by “probably” I mean “definitely.”
Hannah’s on the other side of the threshold now, clutching her bag under one arm, her hands clasped in front of her like she’s about to take communion.
“You don’t even know my name, do you?” she asks, not making eye contact.
“I really need to hit the shower, so …”
“It’s Grace,” she says. “Not that you care. I just think, you know, we spent the night together. The least you could do is know my name, even if you have no intentions of seeing me again.”
I try not to laugh at myself. I was way off.
Where the hell did I get Hannah from?
God, I miss New York girls right now. They don’t pull this clingy shit. They don’t take a one-night stand to mark the beginnings of a budding relationship. They go their own way in the morning and when you bump into them around town, they pretend like they don’t remember you and you pretend like you don’t know them and everything’s peachy-fucking-keen as life goes on.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?” she asks, her light eyes moving onto mine. Grace-not-Hannah tucks a strand of messy blonde sex hair behind one ear.
I lean against the door jamb. “Clearly we had different expectations for … last night.”
Why would she think it was anything other than a run of the mill one-night stand?
“You just … you seemed different.” She worries the inside of her full bottom lip. “Guess I just didn’t think I’d feel so … used.”
Oh, god.
“I didn’t use you, Grace,” I say. “I had a great fucking time with a beautiful blonde I met in a Telluride hotel. I’ll never forget it, either. Promise.”
She blows a succinct breath between her pink lips. “Until the next blonde in the next hotel.”
“Actually, I prefer brunettes, but that’s beside the point.” I chuckle. She doesn’t. “Take care, Grace. All right?”
I step away, gently closing the door, but she stops it with her palm.
“I feel sorry for you.” Her eyes are almost a darker shade of blue than they were a second ago. “One of these days, you’re going to meet someone amazing, someone who makes you forget all the things you’ve always wanted to forget. And I hope she breaks your heart.”
With that, Grace-not-Hannah pulls her palm from the door and lets it slam.
I hit the shower.
She can curse me all she wants, but you can’t get your heart broken if you don’t have one.
“THANKS FOR LETTING ME stay here.” I rise on my toes, wrapping my arms around my brother’s scrub-covered shoulders despite the fact that he just got home from working an overnight shift in the ER. He’s probably covered in a hundred thousand germs and microbes, but I haven’t seen him in eight months so I’m too excited to care. “Love the new place.”