The Beauty and the Inked

Eight: Hotel Room

Zack drove in silence. I look at him every now and then, but he doesn't look back at me.

"Where are we going?" I asked. My voice was still so small, I cleared my throat. I'm a bit cold.

I was amused that he reached for a bottle of water and gave it to me, "Thanks. But bottled water left in cars is unsafe."

“Are you going to drink it or I’ll throw it out?” he said with a little laugh while giving me a short glance.

See, sometimes he is kind.

He continued to drive in silence. The traffic wasn't so bad considering its past midnight. I miss home. I miss my friends, and my Aunt.

I rest my head against the window. His car smells like him, there was a faint scent of his cologne lingering on the leather seat. It's comfortable, yet perturbing in the same time. I don't know why I did not disagree with him taking me, where are we even going?

"Zack?"

"Yeah?" his eyes never leave the road. It's really nice to look at him, all focused on driving. His brows have a crease between them.

"You haven't answered me."

"Hotel," he sighed. “It’s where I’m staying,” he continued, “But don’t worry we won’t be sleeping in the same room.”

"Thanks," I stare out of the window. It feels unsettling yet comfortable... I don't know how, but my burdens had disappeared, "I'm really exhausted. Aren't you? I mean the flight and bar. "

"I travel a lot."

"But that doesn't mean you won't be exhausted," I said. My eyes lids were getting heavy. A fourteen hour flight, encounter with my Mum, and a drink was very energy consuming. Believe me.

"Okay, I'm sort of tired.”

I let out a small laugh, "I'm tired: dog-tired.”

I'm used to his arrogance, and his rude remarks. But I'd rather have this playful Zack than the other. Maybe we were sort of beginning to be friends? Zack as a friend isn't so bad, right? At least I can call someone a friend. After all, I’m too far from my best friends; I used to have a couple of friends here before I left. But since I ran away and never want to be back, I lost contact to them. I feel bad about it, but it was also the best way to cut ties with Philippines. The next few minutes were spent with silence, and to be honest, I enjoyed it. I enjoy Zack's tranquil presence.

. . . .

"Hey," Zack was waking me up, "We're here."

I looked outside of the window; I don't know where we were. Tall building tower over this one we’re about to enter. There were a few structures which I assume are apartment buildings. He parked his car in front of a three storey building. We went inside; the brick walls were painted with animated figures. The place looks fine, not extravagant but good.

He talked to the receptionist before handling me a key, “We’re lucky the room next to mine is vacant.”

We both say thank you to the receptionist before taking the elevator. Once we stepped out we turned left. We walked passed a couple of doors, maybe three or four? I lost count. Then, he slid a key on the last door; he pushed it open, “Just knock if you need something.”

“Thank you.”

“No problems as long as you keep your temper,” he said jokingly.

I spent the night tossing and turning. The alcohol wears off and now I’m back to hating my life. I checked to see if my phone will turn on, but of course it was no luck. I dialed the front desk and shyly asked for a charger, a few minutes later they were knocking on my door.

“Thank you so much.”

“No worries, ma’am.”

I almost forgot how hospitable Filipinos are. Whenever you need something, they will provide it to the best of their ability. I plugged my phone before slowly drifting off to sleep. Maybe tomorrow I can call my friends.

I woke up due to the knock on the door. For a few seconds I was unsure where I was.

“Yssa?” Zack called me from the other side of the door.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to grab some brunch?”

Brunch? I thought it is still early and why the hell is Zack using the word brunch?

“Sure. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I will wait for you in my room.”

“Sure. Thanks!” I tried to look more presentable than just looking like a zombie apocalypse survivor. I washed my face and now my pale kin feels bolder than ever. I tried to move as fast as possible not to cause any delay for Zack. But when I knock on his door there were other people inside the room with him.

“Zack?” I called out.

“Come in.”

The first thing that I noticed was the huge portrait of a lovely lady in his living room. Wow. This one is bigger than where I slept in. I was still looking at the portrait; it was drawn with a charcoal pencil. I know it, because I used to have some art class back in New York. The drawing was perfect, it almost look alive. I can feel the emotions on the lady's eyes.

I tear my eyes away from the portrait then looked around; his living room is very neat. There is a couch that lay against the right side of the room, a bookshelf at the far left corner, and a piano next to it. In the middle of the room was a round shape wooden center table. At the other side of the room, there was a drywall, where the TV was attached. For a guy of this generation, Zack is impressively neat. The only thing that looks out of place is the portrait. Did he draw this?

I can hear voices coming from the kitchen so I made my way there. Zack was facing away from me. Next to him was a curly haired lad. I can only see his side view. A short-haired guy was seated by the table.

"Henry was so pissed!" the short-haired guy exclaimed. He has a round face, almost childlike. The two guys were topless, a fine sight to behold, and I almost choke with my own thoughts.

"I wasn't!" the curly-haired said, so he's Henry. He was digging in his pancakes. My eyes caught sight of his many tattoos, scattered across his arms and chest; unlike Zack’s, his were all black.

"Sure, bro," Zack butt in.

My stomach grumbles, I'm hungry. When was the last time I had a proper meal? Yeah, before I got here. About twenty-six hours ago.

The short-haired saw me staring at them, his smile was warm and undeniably adorable, "Good morning," he said. He doesn't have any tattoos, unlike his friends.

The other two turn to my direction, both has smile on their faces. I returned their warm smile, "Good morning," I said, tucking the loose strands of my hair behind my ears. I suddenly felt shy due to my appearance. I’m not on my most presentable state.

“On time for breakfast, I mean, lunch,” the short-haired guy said, “I’m Nick and that’s Henry, and that’s Zack-wacky,” he earned a smack in the head for blurting out Zack’s nickname. It's not terrible; I think it is cute and very endearing.

“It smells great in here,” I remarked. Henry stood up to face me and made an exaggerated bow.

The four of us ate brunch with so much laughter. Nick is very child-like. He talks a lot and very jolly. While Henry may look serious and strong but he laughs a lot, too, I mean he giggles. They are two adorable grown men, someone who will be perfect for a brother.