Hunter laughed when he opened the door to the room, a laughter that echoed with a hint of mischief. “I think you're going to hate this.”
I approached, and upon seeing the interior, I understood the reason for Hunter's laughter. The room was a disconcerting blend of exaggerated romance, filled with details that only a love-struck couple could appreciate. Swan-shaped towels, rose petals carefully scattered on the bed, and soft lighting contributed to the intimate atmosphere. However, Hunter and I were far from being a couple.
“I'm not staying here,” I declared firmly, knowing that the scene did not align with the nature of our relationship.
Hunter, still smiling, defended the choice as if the romantic extravagance of the room were a joke. “It's better than sleeping in the car.”
Hunter's
