Thin Walls
339 Words
10:12PM. Seaside Cove Resort.
Room 403 was… too nice.
Ocean view. King bed. Sliding door to a balcony.
And one shared wall with Room 402.
His room.
I unpacked fast. Didn’t sit. Couldn’t.
The air was thick. Salt. Humidity. And him. Somehow.
I showered. Changed into a thin sleep shirt and shorts.
Too thin. Too much.
I told myself it was the heat.
11:03PM.
Silence.
Then… a sound through the wall.
A cough. His. Low. Rough from not sleeping.
I sat on the bed. Stared at the wall.
Another sound. Footsteps. Then the balcony door sliding open.
He was outside.
I shouldn’t.
I did.
I slid my own balcony door open.
He was there. Two feet away. Separated by a glass divider and 3 inches of air.
Suit jacket off. White shirt sleeves rolled. Hair messy from his hands.
He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the ocean.
“Can’t sleep either?” I asked. Stupid. Obvious.
He turned. Slow.
“Ava.”
Just my name. No “Ms. Lane.” No “go inside.”
The wind lifted my hair.
“You should be in bed,” he said.
“So should you.”
He exhaled. Like I was the problem.
A long pause. Waves below us.
Then, barely loud enough to hear over the ocean:
“Ava.”
Again.
Like he was testing it. Like it hurt to say.
I gripped the railing. “Yeah?”
He looked at me then. Really looked.
For 3 seconds, no one spoke.
Then his phone buzzed on his table. He flinched.
“Go inside,” he said. Voice flat again. Boss again.
“Damien—”
“Room 403, Ms. Lane.”
The wall went up.
He slid his door shut. Curtains closed.
I stood on my balcony, alone.
I heard one more thing before I went in.
Muffled. Through the glass.
My name.
Said like a wish.
*Note to Self: He said it twice. Once out loud. Once when he thought I couldn’t hear.*
I didn’t sleep.
- Writer
