QUARANFLING

Chapter 4: Unstarry Night

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C A R S O N

I've discovered why Norman was suspiciously asking me whether I'd be okay once I discovered the contents of the luggage I assumed was mine.

...in the most humiliating manner possible.

It occurred during a discussion between Gun and I about how to divide the bedroom, with him taking the pull out bed and I enjoying the king size cushions. Of course, we reached an agreement following a bruising game of rock, paper, scissors that I somehow won. I was about to leap into the pull out bed when I spotted a glimmer of hope when he continued to lose consecutively in our fierce duel.

Luck's been in my favor tonight.

However, not for long. I figured it would be a daring move to assert my dominance and organize my belongings in the cabinet while he was still in the room. Oh boy, was I very...very wrong.

It turns out that the entire time, I was towing a suitcase brimming with s*x toys. Gun choked on his chips as his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when I unzipped my luggage on the bed, and I say this with complete confidence! He regarded the on-display toys with interest.

I had hoped the concrete would swallow me whole.

"Are you in the s*x toys business?" he questioned casually as he took up a dildo—still in the box and nearly as large as his forearms in size.

"N—No," I cried, my feet firmly planted on the floor as I remained paralyzed. To attempt to conceal the damage would be pointless. Nothing, not even my warped sense of humor, could alleviate the embarrassment I'm currently experiencing.

"How is it that everything is still brand new, collector's item?" he inquired once again.

"They're Pokemon toys," I slapped his hand to deter him from retrieving anymore toys from the bag, only to have him scatter them back on the bed.

"I just want to see!" he nagged, his face innocent. He resembled a child in a toy store—but this was a toy store for adults. In that situation, his expression is entirely appropriate. I'm being sarcastic.

I stammered, "N-No." "They are not my property. They are sold by a friend of mine "I found myself explaining the situation as I pathetically stuffed the toys back into the luggage, desperately hanging on to the last shred of pride I possessed while he picked them up one by one out of curiosity. "Stop it!"

"What? I simply wish to observe "His brows furrowed in annoyance.

"All right, just be gentle with them," my voice had to betray me at the most inopportune moment, croaking the words out in an uncomfortable moan.

Simply wonderful.

"All right, I'll be gentle," he mockingly groaned back in his deep, almost seductive voice. I almost blushed.

That would have been perilous had I done so.

This is not what I anticipated. "How does this work?" he asked once more, his hands fidgeting with the box, anxious to split it open and extract the cracken.

"Do not dare," I cautioned. "What? Are you going to wallow in self-pity now?!" I reprimanded, at the end of my patience, and his behavior was doing nothing to assist my condition.

I went from shy to wanting to whack this boy's brains out.

"All I want to do is look!" He spat angrily, as if he was a difficult child experiencing a post-temper tantrum.

"Enough! Show's over," I hurriedly repacked the suitcase and stuffed the bag into the cupboard. When I turned to face him, I discovered that he was still holding the very first box of dildo. He grinned evilly as he teasingly waved it in the air.

"Hand it over to me!" I screamed, chasing him as if my life depended on it.

It's not as if Norman is going to murder me and demand payment if she discovers one item is missing during her inventory. I just didn't want her to believe I was using it, as that is how her system is structured.

"Damn, you're one fascinating girl," he laughed as he ran into the large open restroom. This is another distinct issue to resolve. I made a mental note of the bathroom's lack of doors.

"All right, you may have that item to one condition!" I panted, weary of attempting to capture him. He was far too swift and dexterous to attempt catching up with him. He flees and leaps around at Usain's pace. It is quite impossible to seize him.

"What?" he laughed, but then his face morphed into that of a horrifyingly seductive demon. "Don't tell me—" he smirked as he deliberately cut himself off, allowing the innuendo to fly freely as he played with my guilt.

Panting, I rummaged through my backpack and grabbed my notepad, tearing out a page. "Sign. Can you sign this?"

"Would you like me to sign a blank piece of paper?" he wondered cautiously, but took the pen from my grasp and signed it anyway. I examined his signature and stood perplexed when it appeared to be different from what I'm used to seeing on Norman's autographed posters. I am not making a mistake.

"This is not it!" I grumble as I rip another page from my notepad and offer it to him. "Could you please re-sign it?"

He quickly scrawled his trademark signature on the blank page of paper. When he was through, I grabbed it and nodded in satisfaction. I tapped his shoulder with my palm in contentment. "Excellent job," I gushed. Norman is so going to like this!

"Thank you, Gun!" I spoke out of exhilaration.

"What did you just call me?"

I added a little too late, "—ner." I felt as though I was a deer caught in headlights. "Gunner," I stammered as I walked back to the bedroom to dismiss the matter, but he just continued following me, his flawless face contemptuous.

"No, you called me something else," he chuckled as he perched on the side of my bed, his knees folded.

"Gun," I stated confidently. "It's easier that way. Gun dude from Black Chives."

"Is this the way we're going to play, now?" he mocked. The box of that toy is still in his grasp, and watching him juggle it from hand to hand, back and forth, makes me feel weird. I gulped.

"Give it to me now!"

He raised it above his head as he jumped to his feet in panic. Recognizing that I couldn't reach for it, he remained in that posture, winking at me with his tongue protruding.

"Hey, I signed it! This is mine now," he said, his lips pursed in surprise. "Are you a delinquent? Why are you so prone to violence?!"

"All right, Gun," I sighed. Ignore it. I'm not even interested in learning why he's formed an attachment to that box of toy.

_____

Hours had passed while we waited for supper, and yet the clock had already struck ten o'clock and our door bell had not sounded since we requested room service. I wondered how long they would keep us here without providing food. My stomach was grumbling, as was Gun's, and there was nothing I could do about it, since we had been sternly paged not to leave our rooms, as they would bring everything we needed directly to our doors.

Where is that promise now?

"I'm calling for pizza delivery, you want some?" I asked, but he was too preoccupied with his phone. I sighed, nodding to myself since he won't answer.

I ignored his lack of reaction, reasoning that he was probably attending an important meeting.

My eyes unconsciously follow his every move and I can't help but compare him with my brother.

No, he behaves identically to my brother, and I should get used to it by now, but I no longer live with my brother, and Norman normally responds to me when the word pizza is mentioned.

Again, I was at a loss for an explanation for his lack of appetite. Perhaps he's on a diet? Public personalities have always maintained tight dietary habits in order to maintain their golden image, correct?

Whatever!

I dialed the usual pizza delivery number hurriedly, like as if it was an old flame I couldn't let go of. I swore I would eat lobster for supper, yet here I am, reverting to my old guilty pleasure. I went on this trip with the intention of indulging in pricey lobster dinners.

"Hello, may I have half and half?" I've already spoken on the first ring. I was confident they would note of my order by then. That is how much I trust them. "HALF HAWAIIAN, HALF ALL MEAT. Additionally, may I have a bucket of buffalo wings with honey barbecue sauce and two cans of beer—make that four. Many thanks!" Before the operator could even greet me with their signature speel, I recited the orders that I had rehearsed by heart.

"Could I get your address?"

"Hotel Cigale, room 4147. Conrad should be contacted."

_____

My order had arrived, and Gun sat on the couch, still transfixed to his phone. I moved into the living room softly and placed the boxes on the coffee table. I simply pushed his feet off and down into the carpeted floor to make place for the cold canned beers, neatly displaying my priorities.

"Let's eat," I encouraged him, although I wasn't expecting him to comply, given how well he had been avoiding my calls.

Until I sensed his presence seated beside me. "f**k yeah, All Meat, baby!" he yelled excitedly as he dived into the dish with gusto. I nodded blissfully as I watched him gobble with zeal. I placed the box of table napkins near him instinctively or perhaps in response to his behaviour ofeating up the pizza with much concern for the grease splattering everywhere. I pulled a tissue leaf from the box and damped it on his chin.

"Slow down, my God!"

"Did you know that this is the first time in three years that I've eaten pizza?"

My heart clenched the more I watch him eat wholeheartedly like as if he was starved for a long time.

He was ready to eat his sixth slice when he abruptly came to a halt. "f**k, I'm on a diet," he said, his mouth slightly open, and I thought he looked strange with his huge doe shocked eyes.

"Too late, hun," I informed him, pointing to the raging maelstrom on his plate.

"f**k!" he screamed once more, this time in exasperation. He wiped his lips aggressively, as if it would make a difference. He was furious with himself, but he hasn't released his grip on the buffalo wing in his other hand.

"That is OK. Go eat. We can lose weight in the future " I motioned him to resume eating, and he simply responded with two thumbs up and a gleeful nod of his head.

He doesn't really need to go on a tight diet when he already has a supermodel physique. He would naturally lose all of his weight once he resumed band practice. He frequently skips meals due to his hectic schedule anyway.

However, why am I worried about this boy I met this morning?

I began consuming buffalo wings in order to alleviate my strange concerns. Buffalo wings were always a source of enormous comfort.

Gunner uncorked the cans and offered me one. We automatically clinked them together before taking a deep sip, and, as if performing some drunken ritual, we gasped in contentment as the cool brew and somewhat bitter malt mixture lashed down our thirsty throats.

"Thank Goodness. That was good," I murmured gently, for the delectable food, but he may have mistook my gratitude for him as he mumbled a soft, "You're welcome," which made me cackle out loud .

We were in the midst of wiping the table when our doorbell buzzed us out of the food comma. "I'm going to get that," he insisted, and I was more than delighted to oblige. I could barely breathe, let alone stand and walk, due to the amount of food I consumed.

When I realized he hadn't returned even after many minutes, I military crept to the door. "I understand, sir, and as a result, I am issuing you a warning for this infraction. Due to the fact that we're on lock down, we're completely prohibited from accepting deliveries. This is to ensure your safety, as well as the hotel's and other guests' well being. Our cooks work diligently to ensure that each guest receives a meal, and we sincerely apologize if your meal is served later than usual due to your location on the top level. I trust this makes sense "A strong voice shouted, compelling me to halt my crawling and take cover behind a wall.

"Three hours have passed since she requested room service. I'm hoping you understand as well. "Gunner defended in a calm manner. I grinned instinctively when I realized he was actually listening to me a few moments earlier. I simply assumed he was too preoccupied to give a damn about what I said. He was aware of me after all.

"Take this remote control. It functions similarly to a bell, summoning assistants. For room service, use the green button. The red button denotes the lobby, while the yellow button signifies customer service," Gun was handed a little controller with three large buttons by the staff.

I instantly crawled back to the carpet as soon as I heard the door close, but I was unaware that boy walks quickly.

"What are you doing on the floor?" he mumbled, perplexed, his face criticizing me.

"I'm pretending to be a caterpillar," I explained animatedly as he stood there watching me melt in my embarrassment. H he merely shook his he as he sat on the couch, and w ithout a word, his palm slammed the controller onto the coffee table. "Hey, are you up for some late-night snacks?"

"Are you crazy?" I responded, intrigued.

"Perhaps," he shrugged as he stepped forward in front of me, his hands propped on his hips.

I thought, damn, he's 80 percent legs, scanning my gaze across the entirety of his godlike form.

"What do you have in mind?" I queried out of curiosity. It makes no difference if we literally just ate. To me, the word "food" is always enticing.

"Let's go out," he extended his hand, which I grabbed awkwardly as he hauled me up with a dramatic sigh.

"Wait," I said, pausing. "I don't have clothes. You can go. I'll just stay here."

He took both of my shoulders in his grip and forced me into the bedroom. "I've got you, mami."