Room For One More

CHAPTER THREE : Accidental Touches

I didn't breathe.

His fingers grazed my cheek — warm, firm, holding for a fraction of a second too long. My skin vibrated under his fingers like it was alive.

I stepped back. "Don't."

He lowered his hand but didn't retreat. "Sorry. That was.impulsive."

"You think?"

He chuckled quietly. "You're adorable when you're angry."

"I'm not angry," I retorted, crossing my arms. "I'm trapped in a room with a stranger who believes every sentence is come-on."

"I don't believe that," he moved past me. "But I'd be dishonest if I said I wasn't interested."

"About?"

He spun, folding his arms, looking at me like I was some mystery he was trying to solve. "Why does a girl like you seem to be running from something."

"I'm not."

He tipped his head. "Then what are you running to?"

The question stunned me. I wasn't used to having others ask the tough questions — definitely not to handsome men in fuzzy hotel robes.

"Everything," I whispered. "I'm running to everything I've never had."

His face relaxed. "That's honest."

"I didn't mean to be."

We stood there. The city lights glowed behind the glass like silent witnesses.

Then — a beep. The lock flashed green. The door snapped open.

I sprang. "Finally."

I grabbed my bag. No goodbyes. No looking back.

But as I reached the hallway, his voice stopped me.

"Elena."

I turned.

"If I see you again. I won't pretend I don't remember tonight."

I didn't say anything.

I couldn't.

Because the deranged part?

There was a small, unsafe part of me that wanted him to recall.