Nevertheless, I keep my suspicions to myself as Ethan and I eat our food in relative silence. After dinner, I try not to read too much into the disappointed expression in his eyes when I insist I’d rather go to sleep than stay and have another drink or dessert. And as we walk like condemned prisoners toward the elevators, I can’t help but feel as if this entire day is an undeniable testament to why I need to set boundaries with Ethan.
The silent elevator ride to the fourth floor is nothing short of painful. But watching him struggle to scan the key card fast enough to disengage the lock on our room is excruciating. He’s nervous.
What the hell is going on here?
“Let me try,” I say, reaching for the card, but he snatches it away impatiently.
“There’s something wrong with the card,” he insists, once again sliding it too quickly.
“It’s not the card,” I say, leaving the accusation of user error hanging in the air.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve used a hotel card key,” he says, bristling at my implication.
I take a step back to put some distance between us. “I could murder someone right now, and you’re the only person here, so you’d better open that door right now.”
He chuckles despite his frustration, then he finally hands me the card. “Have at it, love.”
I snatch the key out of his hand. “Can you please stop with the love stuff?”
“The what?” he says, moving closer to observe my technique as I slide the card into the slot, wait half a second, and slide it out.
The tiny light turns from red to green, and I hastily shove the door open, tumbling into the room to put some space between us again.
“Impressive,” he mutters, following me inside. “Is there anything the great Alice Lopez can’t do?”
“If you think my card-sliding skills are good, wait until you see me tie my very own shoes.”
He smiles and shakes his head as he watches me from just inside the door. “Now this I have to see.”
I roll my eyes as I lay my phone on top of the nightstand. “Can we go to sleep now?”
He laughs as he walks to the foot of the bed. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t sleep on the right side of the bed.”
“Excuse me? Am I still on the clock? Because I’m pretty sure my shift ended about two hours ago, so you can’t boss me around anymore.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “I’m not bossing you around. I’m telling you I have to sleep closest to the door, you know, in case someone comes in while we’re sleeping…so I can protect you.”
I laugh out loud, maybe a bit too loud. “I’ve been living by myself since culinary school. Well, other than my current stint at my parents’ house. But the point is, I don’t need a big, strong man to protect me.”
He bites his lip as he considers this, as if he’s debating how he should respond, then he shakes his head as he seems to come to a conclusion. He strides toward me and, without any warning whatsoever, scoops me up in his arms as if he’s King Kong and I’m his captive.
“What are you doing?” I shriek, as he carries me to the left side of the bed, but he seems unable to speak from the exertion. “Put me down!” I demand.
And he does just that, dropping me not-so-gently onto the left side of the mattress.
He smiles down at me, looking very pleased with himself. “I sleep on the right side.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I shout, popping up from the bed.
He sits on the right side of the bed and begins removing his shoes. “I don’t sleep on the left side of the bed.”
I snatch my phone off the nightstand, my heart thumping wildly from the adrenaline. “I Tarzan. I sleep right side. No sleep left side. Is that seriously the explanation you’re giving me?”
He lies back and rests his hands on his stomach as he stares at the ceiling. “Tarzan wake early tomorrow. Tarzan sleep now,” he says in a caveman voice, which, quite frankly, sounds adorable in his British accent.
We stare at each other for a moment before we both burst into laughter.
Maybe it’s the stress of the day, but I find myself laughing for way longer than I should, crouching next to the bed with one hand on the floor to steady myself. When I finally gather my wits, I look up and find Ethan is sitting up now, staring at me as if he’s seen a ghost.
I suddenly feel guilty I laughed so hard. Maybe he thinks I was laughing at him and not with him. But I resist the urge to apologize.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He blinks a few times, as if waking from a dream. “Nothing. I was just… You look…”
“I look…what?”
He shakes his head and stands up, stepping over me in his haste to get to the restroom. “I’ll be in the shower.”
“What are you going to change into after your shower?”
He stops outside the bathroom door and considers this, then he turns around. Seizing the opportunity, I quickly lie down on the right side of the bed before he can get to it. He stares at me for a long while, likely contemplating whether he has enough strength left to manhandle me the way he did earlier. Finally, he begins peeling off his black T-shirt.
“What are you doing?”
He tosses the shirt on top of the cherry wood dresser and reaches for the button of his jeans.
With my phone still in one hand, I
