Room Twelve
1695 Words
Anna hated him a little by the third day.
Which was irritating, because technically Ben Moretti had done nothing wrong.
He wasn’t rude exactly.
He was worse.
Indifferent.
It started the morning after the diner.
Anna came downstairs wearing black shorts and a cropped tank top she knew looked good on her. Not because she cared what Ben thought, obviously. But because after the way he’d looked at her the night before—
Actually, no.
He hadn’t looked at her.
That was the problem.
Most men looked twice.
Ben barely looked once.
Anna walked into the motel office around nine, sunglasses resting on top of her head.
Ben stood behind the counter flipping through paperwork with a cigarette tucked behind one ear.
“You know,” Anna said casually, “for a motel owner, you spend a lot of time looking miserable.”
“Morning to you too.”
His eyes stayed on the papers.
No reaction whatsoever.
Anna leaned against the counter. “You always work this much?”
“Yep.”
“Interesting.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Her jaw tightened slightly.
God.
“Do you ever say anything that isn’t painfully boring?”
Ben finally looked up.
His gaze moved over her face once before returning to the papers.
“Do you ever stop talking?”
There it was.
That tiny spark of irritation.
Anna smiled immediately.
“Ah. So you are human.”
Ben ignored her completely.
Which somehow annoyed her more.
The office filled with silence except for the buzzing neon sign outside.
Anna tapped her fingers against the desk.
Ben continued writing.
“You know people in town think you’re scary.”
“Mm.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Deny murdering people maybe.”
“Depends what day it is.”
Anna laughed despite herself.
And for one brief second, she saw it again —
that almost-smile threatening the corner of his mouth before it disappeared completely.
Like he regretted even that much reaction.
Weirdo.
“You got recommendations around here?” she asked.
“For what?”
“Things to do.”
Ben looked around the empty office slowly.
“You’ve seen the town.”
“Wow. Tourism really thriving here.”
“You’ll survive.”
Anna narrowed her eyes slightly.
She couldn’t decide if Ben enjoyed irritating her or simply didn’t care enough not to.
Probably the second one.
Which was worse.
A truck pulled into the parking lot outside.
Ben glanced toward it immediately.
Conversation over.
A man walked into the office carrying a cardboard box.
“Morning, Ben.”
Ben nodded once. “Leave it in the back.”
The guy’s eyes landed on Anna instantly.
Unlike Ben, he looked very interested.
“Well, damn,” he said. “Didn’t realize we had visitors.”
Anna smiled politely. “Temporary victim of car failure.”
The man laughed.
“Name’s Wade.”
“Anna.”
Wade leaned against the counter beside her. “You here alone?”
Before Anna could answer, Ben spoke flatly without looking up.
“She’s waiting on repairs.”
The tone wasn’t jealous.
It was dismissive.
Like he was answering a customer service question.
Anna suddenly wanted to throw something at him. Something or herself.
Wade noticed the tension immediately, amusement flickering across his face.
“You staying long?”
“Apparently.”
“Then avoid the bar on Fridays.”
Anna tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because people here get stupid.”
Ben shut the folder in front of him.
“Wade.”
The warning in his voice was subtle but sharp.
Wade raised his hands. “Relax.”
Then he grinned at Anna before heading toward the back room.
The second he disappeared, silence settled again.
Anna crossed her arms.
“You always this friendly with guests?”
Ben lit a cigarette lazily.
“You’re not a guest.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re stranded.”
Something about the wording irritated her immediately.
“Wow,” she muttered. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
Ben exhaled smoke toward the ceiling.
“I’m not trying to.”
That hit harder than it should have.
Anna stared at him for a second too long.
Ben remained completely unaffected.
Cold.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Hot.
Like nothing reached him.
She hated people like that.
Mostly because she never knew how to handle them.
“You know,” she said slowly, “you’d probably be attractive if you developed a personality.”
Ben looked at her then.
Actually looked at her.
And annoyingly, the attention made her heartbeat stumble.
“You spend a lot of time thinking about whether I’m attractive.”
Anna’s face warmed instantly.
“I absolutely do not.”
“Sure.”
The smugness in that single word made her furious.
“You’re arrogant.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“At least I’m interesting.”
Ben leaned back slightly against the desk.
“You think being loud makes you interesting?”
Anna stared at him.
Okay.
That one annoyed her.
Because it felt true.
And he knew it.
“Do you enjoy being insufferable?” she asked.
“Do you?”
Another point to him.
Infuriating.
A phone rang somewhere in the back office.
Ben pushed off the counter immediately.
“Don’t steal anything.”
Anna scoffed. “I’m not five.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Then he disappeared through the back door.
Anna glared after him.
She didn’t understand why he bothered her this much.
Normally she could flirt her way through awkward situations easily. Most people were readable. Predictable.
Ben wasn’t.
He gave nothing away.
No lingering glances.
No flirting.
No obvious attraction.
Sometimes she caught him looking at her strangely for half a second, but the second she noticed, he’d already gone distant again.
Like shutting a door.
And somehow that made her want his attention more.
Which was deeply humiliating.
Anna wandered outside into the heat, deciding she needed coffee before she committed murder.
The mechanic shop still hadn’t fixed her car.
“Tomorrow,” the mechanic promised again.
Liar.
By sunset, the desert heat softened slightly.
Anna sat on the balcony outside Room Twelve scrolling through music on her phone while the motel sign buzzed red across the parking lot.
Ben’s truck rolled in around eight.
For no reason at all, her pulse jumped.
Annoying.
He climbed out wearing a black t-shirt and dark jeans, keys spinning around one finger. His sleeves were rolled again, exposing tattooed forearms dusted with grease.
He looked tired.
Not soft tired.
Hard tired.
Like sleep didn’t come easily to him.
Anna watched him cross the parking lot below.
Ben noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
His gaze lifted toward her balcony.
Held for one second.
Two.
Then he looked away and kept walking.
That was it.
No smile.
No wave.
Nothing.
Something sharp twisted in Anna’s chest unexpectedly.
“What is wrong with you?” she muttered to herself.
Because this had become ridiculous.
She barely knew him.
And yet every tiny interaction felt charged with something unfinished.
Like standing too close to a lightning strike that never actually hit.
The motel office lights flicked on downstairs.
Anna stared at the ceiling for another ten minutes before finally giving in to the impulse she’d been fighting all day.
She went downstairs.
Ben sat behind the counter writing again.
Always writing.
“You ever do anything fun?” Anna asked from the doorway.
“No.”
“Thought so.”
He didn’t look up.
Anna stepped inside anyway.
The office smelled like smoke and cedarwood again.
“You know most people would consider conversation a normal human activity.”
Ben flipped a page calmly.
“You’re still here?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re unbelievably rude.”
“You keep returning. Can’t be that bad.”
That caught her off guard.
Tiny.
Barely noticeable.
But it almost sounded teasing.
Anna stepped closer to the counter.
“Maybe I just enjoy annoying you.”
“Would explain a lot.”
His voice stayed flat, but she noticed it now —
the smallest shifts beneath his calm exterior.
Ben wasn’t emotionless.
He just buried everything deep enough nobody else noticed.
Anna rested her elbows on the counter.
“What happened to you?”
That finally made him look up fully.
Not angry.
Just cold.
“What kind of question is that?”
“The kind people ask.”
“No,” Ben said quietly. “It’s the kind people ask when they don’t know when to stop.”
The air shifted instantly.
Anna straightened slightly.
For the first time since arriving in Blackwater Ridge, she realized something important:
Ben Moretti wasn’t simply distant.
He was closed off on purpose.
Like someone who had spent years making sure nobody got too close.
Which only made her more curious.
Dangerously curious.
Ben held her gaze another second before looking back down at his paperwork.
Conversation over.
Dismissed.
Anna should’ve left.
Instead she stood there stubbornly, watching him.
Watching the tension in his jaw.
The tattoos disappearing beneath rolled sleeves.
The cigarette balanced between long fingers.
Ben suddenly looked up again, catching her staring directly at him.
Neither moved.
“What?” he asked flatly.
Anna tilted her head slightly.
“I think you like pretending you hate people.”
“And I think you confuse curiosity with personality.”
Ouch.
She laughed anyway.
“You always this charming?”
“Only with you.”
For one dangerous second, that sounded almost flirtatious.
Then Ben ruined it immediately by adding:
“You make it easy.”
Anna grabbed the pen off the desk and threw it at him.
Ben caught it effortlessly without reacting.
That annoyed her even more.
His eyes met hers calmly as he set the pen back down.
“Go to bed, Anna.”
The way he said her name —
low, tired, controlled —
did something deeply unfair to her nervous system.
She hated that he had no idea.
Or worse—
Maybe he did.
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