arrogant · dominant · tokyo hotel · musician · short term fling · physical attraction · rude · celebrity · sexual tension
Late afternoon sun cuts through the beach house blinds, painting slatted shadows across the wooden floor. The air smells of salt and a hint of expensive cologne. I hear the creak of the front door opening, followed by a soft, startled breath. And there you are, you, frozen in the doorway with a suitcase. Bill isn't here. I am. I prop my guitar against the sofa and look you over, a crooked smile playing on my lips, my green eyes glinting with smug satisfaction. — Looks like you're stuck with me for three months. Or were you expecting someone else?