Just a Touch: A Heartthrob Hotel Novella

by Kiss, Tabatha

  No, it was more than just a punch. That was a fucking hit-and-run. No security footage. No insurance. No nothing.

  What the fuck just happened?

  Jen thought I slept with Scarlet. I barely even knew Scarlet. Not that that has kept me from sleeping with women in the past but I knew enough about her to know that she was my girlfriend’s friend. I never touched her. I never thought about touching her. I never looked twice at her.

  Jen was my everything back then and if the swell taking over my chest right now is any indication, that might still be the case.

  Another wave of hyena laughter follows me out and I pause to look back over my shoulder. Little Clara surrounded by her tipsy friends and... Scarlet.

  My eyes flick toward the bar and I catch the back of my brother’s head. I can’t even begin to guess the number of times someone has tapped me on the shoulder thinking I was him. And vice versa.

  I march across the bar toward him, eager to confirm what I clearly already know.

  I stop next to him, ignoring the petite brunette from earlier sitting to his left, now donning a tight, pink sundress rather than a housekeeping apron.

  “Did you fuck Scarlet?” I ask my brother.

  Hayden’s head jerks in my direction and he blinks twice. “Who?”

  “Scarlet,” I repeat. “Jenny’s friend. Have you had sex with her?”

  “Uhh...” His eyes bounce from me to his date. “No...?”

  I point across the bar toward the swishy, blonde bob. “Look very closely, Hayden.”

  The brunette slides off her stool, her face twisted with annoyance. “So, I’m gonna go...”

  Hayden holds up a hand to stop her. “Wait. He doesn’t mean today—”

  She doesn’t stop. She walks toward the exit and Hayden’s head drops as he exhales all the air from his lungs.

  “Thanks a lot, man,” he spits at me. “We were just about to go back upstairs.”

  “Hayden,” I say, leaning closer. “Do you remember my wedding?”

  He shrugs. “Vaguely. Why?”

  “Do you remember hooking up with a woman in the honeymoon suite three days later?” I ask.

  His brow furrows as he thinks back, quickly followed by the quick jerk of his brow flashing upward.

  “Oh, yes!” He nods. “Yes, I do remember maybe doing something like that. Yes.”

  I point across the bar at Scarlet again. “Her?”

  He follows the gesture and smiles. “Yeah, that might have been her. Hair was longer, though. I remember that ‘cuz…” He pauses. “Well, reasons.”

  I deflate, setting a hand on the bar to hold myself up. This whole time I thought Jen left because of me. Because I wasn’t ready. Because we weren’t ready. But that was never the case at all.

  Hayden tosses back the rest of his drink. “Did you want me to do it again or something?” he asks. “I mean, I’m not against the idea. Seeing as how you ruined my other date...”

  “No...” I say through gritted teeth.

  His shoulders bounce. “Then, what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that Jen saw you.” I point a stiff finger at him. “You dragged her best friend into our suite and she saw you.”

  “So?”

  “So, she thought it was me!” I shout. “She thought I fucked Scarlet on our honeymoon and that’s why she left me!”

  “Oh.” Hayden’s mouth opens slowly as he gets it. “Ohhh...”

  I glare at him, unable to form another thought beyond pummeling him to the floor right here and now.

  He winces. “I’m sorry, bro.” He eyes the table in the corner with genuine remorse. “Did you want me to talk to Jen? Because I can totally clear this whole thing up—”

  “No,” I say. “Don’t do anything. Just...” I sigh beneath the crushing weight on my shoulders. “Don’t do anything.”

  I turn away, dragging my feet as I put as much distance between me and my brother as possible.

  No, Hayden. You talking to Jen is the last fucking thing I need right now.

  This whole time, she thought I betrayed her. She’s been living with it over her head for ten years, as she said. I’ve thought a lot about us and our brief affair... but I never looked at it through anything but rose-tinted glasses. Just two kids that got in too deep too quickly.

  But Jen...

  She’s hated me this whole time.

  I swallow the bile in my throat as I head toward the front desk. Now that I know, I can’t leave it like this. I want to talk to Jen but if I know her as much as I know I do, she won’t want to talk to me. She’s a sit and stew kind of person but I confront problems head-on except for the one time I should have. The day she walked away from me.

  I won’t let that happen again.

  The girl behind the desk looks up at me from beneath pure red bangs as I approach and she flashes a warm smile.

  “Hey, Mr. B!” she greets.

  “Hey, Marla,” I say.

  “How can I help you tonight?”

  “I need the grand master key, please.”

  Her smile fades from her adorably chubby cheeks. “Is something wrong? Should I call security?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “No, it’s nothing to bother Ira about. Just misplaced my own key. I’ll bring it right back down.”

  Marla hesitates (it’s a huge breach of protocol, after all) but nods slowly. The staff rarely questions an order directly from a Botsford.

  “Okay...” She backs up and kneels down to get to the safe below the desk.

  The front entrance opens behind me, accompanied by a sudden rise of gasping young people scattered throughout the lobby. I don’t even have to turn around to know who just strode in like he owns the place. Because, technically, he does. Part of it, anyway.

  Jonah.

  They rush him. He laughs. They scream and sigh. He signs a breast or two. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest but it makes Marla ease up off the floor to inspect the sudden commotion in her lobby. She smiles, cheeks pinking toward the shade of her hair. My patience dwindles.

  One look at me and she goes right back to opening that safe.

  A hard hand slaps my back and I turn to see my baby brother as he slides a pair of sunglasses off his face. A few dark brown curls puff out the edges of his navy blue beanie and his fingers whisper the scruffy shadow of his cheek.

  “Hey, Graham,” he greets, leaning against the counter in his leather jacket and jeans.

  “Hey,” I say.

  Marla snaps up from the floor, her face pinched in a grin but at least she’s got the grand master in her hand. “Hi, Jonah,” she says, her voice barely audible as her words crack on the way out.

  He flashes her a sly wink. “Howdy, Marla.”

  She giggles.

  I clear my throat. “You know, it’s two hours ‘til midnight,” I say to him.

  “So?” he says with a shrug.

  “So, the sunglasses just make you look like an asshole.”

  Jonah snorts. “Good to see you, too, big brother.”

  “I think the glasses look good,” Marla spits out quickly. “On you. They look good. You... look good.”

  Jonah tilts his head at her, his smile still as plastered as he is. I can smell the vodka from here. Must have been a fun ride in on the tour bus.

  “Thank you, Marla.” His head cocks to the other side. “Did you change your hair?”

  Her entire body visibly quivers.

  I extend my hand, opening my palm. “Marla,” I say.

  She twitches to attention and sets the key in my palm. “Oh, right.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jonah straightens up. “Whoa. Who’s getting mastered? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about.” I pat his back, taking a moment for some genuine brotherly affection to counter my admittedly shitty mood. It’s not his fault. “It’s good to see you, Jo.”

  He nods, recognizing it. “Yeah. You, too.”

  “Thanks again, Marla
,” I add before twisting around and bolting toward the golden elevators, hoping to get on it before Jonah’s rabid fanbase has a chance to crowd it.

  I slap the call button and it opens a few moments later. I step to the side to allow the few passengers to walk off before scurrying inside and punching the 25 button repeatedly. The doors finally close on Jonah amid the fray of smartphone camera flashes and selfie sticks.

  My thoughts track swiftly back to Jen. My Jen.

  Can I really even call her that anymore? Probably not but old habits die hard. It wasn’t too long ago when she stood where Marla stands now, checking people in and giggling at rockstars as they wander in late at night just before shift change.

  But pink cheeks and body quivers didn’t match the way Jen looked at me when I walked in. My chest flutters when I remember the way her bottom lip used to pull between her teeth and how she always pushed up onto her tiptoes to better look at me over the massive desk that was just a touch too tall for her petite height.

  Hey, Graham. Is that a new shirt?

  Not much to report. Typical day at the Plaza.

  Oh, 1310 just called for new towels. Can you hit up housekeeping for me? Can’t believe I almost forgot again…

  She worked days and I worked nights during my tutelage in the Botsford legacy. She’d leave when I’d arrive until the summer months. Then, she switched to take on extra hours and it became just the two us behind the desk until six in the morning. Even in a city like Vegas, those were the quietest hours other than the occasional group of drunken tourists from time-to-time. Nothing the two of us couldn’t handle together. Nothing that wasn’t over and done with in minutes and then I could get back to memorizing every detail of her inside and out.

  She liked caramel macchiato. She wrote with her left hand but used a right-handed computer mouse. She hated olives. She bit the tip of her tongue when she was trying to concentrate and she tapped her foot to the beat of whatever song was on the radio, whether she liked it or not.

  She tilted her head to the left when she leaned in for a kiss. She liked dirty talk but hated the word pussy — until she was on the edge, then I could say whatever I wanted to make her break but she never busted me for it later. She couldn’t sleep without a pair of socks on, no matter how hot it was outside in the summer desert heat.

  How do I still remember all of this like it were yesterday even though I haven’t thought about it in years? Have I subconsciously held onto it just in case a night like this happened? Just in case… whatever the hell this is happened?

  I’m not sure what is happening exactly but I’m not running away from it again, that’s for damn sure.

  The elevator opens on the 25th floor. I grip the master key so tightly the card digs into my palm as I step off and take a hard left down the hallway toward room 2505.

  I stop in front of it and suck in a hard breath before raising my closed fist and knocking twice.

  “Jenny, open up.”

  A few seconds pass. No answer.

  Bullshit.

  I knock again. “Jenny.”

  “Go away, Graham!”

  My lips twitch. I knew it.

  “Jenny.” I place my palm on the door, the key hovering over the card slot. “We need to talk.”

  A few more seconds pass in silence. I’d much rather give her the chance to open the door herself before resorting to more desperate measures but I’m not leaving.

  I’m. not. leaving.

  Six

  Graham

  “Jenny,” I say again, my gaze locked on the doorknob.

  “I said, go away!”

  Desperate measures it is, then.

  I slide the grand master key in the keycard slot. The light instantly flashes from red to green and I shove the door open wide.

  Jenny’s jaw drops as I walk in. She’s still wearing that perfect black dress but she’s tossed off the strappy heels in favor of a pair of fluffy, yellow socks. She let her hair down, too, and her jade eyes stand out even more between a curtain of crimped black locks.

  “What the hell, Graham?!” she seethes. “Did you just grand master me?”

  I flip the door sign to DO NOT DISTURB before letting the door close behind me.

  “Yes, I did,” I say.

  She scoffs. “Rude.”

  “I said we needed to talk.”

  “That thing’s for drug overdoses and bomb threats!”

  I bear my teeth. “Jenny.”

  Her shoulders droop. “Fine,” she says, exhaling hard.

  I drop my suitcase and my hands settle on my hips as I glance around the suite. My suite, as the gift basket obviously indicates; just like the one I saw in Hayden’s room earlier.

  The balcony is open, letting the humid, desert breeze billow the curtains bunched off to the side as cars honk and the living world continues on outside. I let my attention stay on the colorful, rain-drenched view for as long as possible while I try to form words.

  Christ, what did I come in here for again?

  Surely it wasn’t to crumble to pieces in her presence but my swollen tongue and clamped throat sure as fuck didn’t get that memo. I can feel Jen’s eyes on me. Watching, waiting. Tempting...

  Keep it together, you bastard.

  I look away from the window toward the blue tin next to the gift basket on the writing desk.

  “Did you eat my cookies?” I ask.

  Jen wraps her arms around herself, fortifying her personal space. “Maybe one or two,” she mutters, showing little remorse.

  I glower.

  She looks down. “You can have the rest of them,” she offers.

  I stop my smile from taking over. This isn’t about cookies, dammit.

  Jen shifts as I step forward but I keep a wide berth between us as I move toward the mini-fridge on the other side of the desk.

  “Want a drink?” I ask, leaning over to yank it open.

  “No,” she answers.

  I grab a mini bottle of rum before changing my mind and putting it back. I take the water instead. That’s probably the smarter choice.

  “Graham.”

  I turn back to find those jade eyes staring at me again.

  “You’re stalling,” she says.

  “No, I’m not.”

  She tilts her head, reading me like a damn book.

  “Okay, fine. A little. Can’t say I’m prepared, Jen. You blindsided me.”

  “You think you’re the only one?” she asks. “I’m freaking the fuck out here.”

  “Me, too!” I slam the fridge door a bit too forcefully and Jen startles at the sound. “Sorry,” I say.

  “It’s okay...”

  She eases back a step and swallows. She licks her lip. She bites her cheek. She scratches a non-existent itch on her forearm and another one on the side of her neck.

  I tap the cap on my water. I debate whether to open it. I set it down on the writing desk instead. Didn’t really want it anyway...

  “Okay, look, Graham...” Jen rubs her temples before putting her arms right back to where they were around her chest. “I messed up.”

  “I messed up,” I say, too.

  “We messed up,” she says. “But it was a long time ago. I’m not the same girl anymore. You’re not the same guy. Maybe we should just catalog this and just... count our losses.”

  “What are you saying, Jenny?”

  “I’m saying that we shouldn’t let this affect our lives in any meaningful way.” Her arms wrap a little tighter. “This doesn’t change anything.”

  I scoff. “Are you serious?”

  She nods. “Yes, I’m serious.”

  “You tell me that our relationship never should have ended in the first place and I’m supposed to just... move on from that?”

  “What’s the alternative?” she asks. “What exactly did you come up here for?”

  I bite down. What did I come up here for?

  Warmth. Comfort. Affection. Sex.

  Love.

  “I don’t k
now,” I answer, my heart pounding.

  “Well, whatever it is... I’m not ready for it,” she says. “I spent... a long time cursing your existence—”

  “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “I know,” she whispers, eyes closed. “I know that now…”

  “And it’s not like I haven’t had a few shitty thoughts about you, either.” I scratch my chin. “You never did give me back my red sunglasses.”

  She raises her head. “Graham...”

  “I really liked those.”

  Her half-smile trembles my knees. “Okay, I deserve that,” she says.

  “Also...” I shift toward the cookie tin. “I never dragged your business through the mud to disparage you publicly. You, on the other hand...”

  Jen frowns. “What?”

  “Bland, flavorless,” I quote her word-for-word. “With a hint of peanut for no ungodly reason.”

  Her mouth sags with a wince. “You read that, huh?”

  I nod as I snatch a cookie from the tin and take a quick bite. “Don’t even try to tell me your review of our new chef in Denver wasn’t a little bias.”

  “Okay.” She raises a finger. “It might have been… colorfully worded.”

  “You made a grown man cry.”

  “But I stand by my opinion! I’ve never had a worse saltimbocca in my life.”

  I nod as I enjoy the rush of sugar and oats on my taste buds.

  Jen’s eyes hop down to my cookie and she smiles. “Those haven’t changed at all, though. Still perfect.”

  I admire her face. Her hair. Her skin. The dress and the socks. “Yeah, they are,” I say, swallowing.

  We go quiet. I take a second bite of my cookie, partially to stall again, but also because it really is just that damn good. I should go down to the welcome office tomorrow and say thanks.

  Or I should focus on the beautiful woman in front of me and stop letting myself get distracted by stupid bullshit like cookies.

  Jen takes a deep breath. It juts out in little wisps as she exhales, almost as if she’s trying to extend it for as long as possible.

  “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” she murmurs.