Part Three - Part One

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Reece stirs beside me, groaning like he just woke up in a different century. His hair sticks up in all directions, and the sheets tangle around his legs like a dramatic toga.

The morning light sneaks through the curtains, casting him in a ridiculously attractive glow that makes my inner monologue roll its eyes. Of course, he looks good even when he's half-asleep and disoriented.

"You're still here?" he rasps, squinting at me like I'm a math problem he forgot how to solve.

"Wow. Good morning to you, too," I deadpan, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. "I can practically feel the hospitality."

He blinks slowly, his honey-brown eyes still clouded with sleep. "Yeah, I just... usually people leave. Like, right after. You know, before I even wake up. It's kind of a system."

"Oh, my bad," I say, feigning offense. "Next time, I'll leave a sticky note that says, 'Thanks for the mediocre service, don't call me.' Will that work for you?"

He smirks, stretching in a way that's both obnoxious and stupidly distracting. "Service wasn't mediocre. I'd give it... a solid eight out of ten. Maybe an eight and a half. Depends on if you're into bonus points for enthusiasm."

I grab a pillow and hurl it at him. He catches it mid-air like this is some kind of morning workout for his ego. "Wow, the arrogance. You're really just leaning into the whole 'charming but insufferable' thing, aren't you?"

"It's a gift," he replies, his grin widening. "Don't act like you didn't love it."

I roll my eyes and slide out of bed, my feet finding the cold floor. "Well, as much as I've enjoyed this riveting post-game analysis, I should probably get out of your hair before you start grading me on my outfit choices, too."

Reece watches me with an amused glint in his eyes as I gather my clothes. "Hey, I wouldn't be so quick to ditch. I make killer pancakes. Could be worth sticking around."

"Tempting," I say, yanking my jeans on. "But I'm more of a 'pancakes alone in my kitchen' kind of guy. Less chance of unsolicited life advice from a one-night stand."

"Fair," he says, leaning back against the headboard, the sheet barely hanging onto his hips. "But you're missing out. My pancakes are legendary."

I pause, halfway into my sweater, and give him a skeptical look. "Oh yeah? Legendary how? Like, 'set the smoke alarm off three times' legendary?"

He laughs, the sound annoyingly contagious. "No, like, 'put IHOP out of business' legendary. But you'll never know now."

I scoff, pulling my sweater over my head. "Tragic loss. Truly."

As I grab my shoes, his voice cuts through the air. "That's my sweater."

I glance down at the oversized sweater I've been claiming as mine since last night. "Well, it's mine now," I reply, slipping my shoes on with zero remorse. "Consider it my payment for enduring your snoring."

"I don't snore," he argues, but there's a twitch of humor at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, you definitely do," I lie smoothly, opening the door. "It's like a chainsaw with rhythm."

He shakes his head, but his smirk lingers. "Don't fall on your way out. Wouldn't want your bruised ego to get worse."

"Thanks for the concern, Romeo," I quip, stepping out into the hallway. "Don't forget to rate my exit on Yelp."

The door shuts behind me, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. As much as I wanted to make him laugh, I can't shake the sting of his casual dismissal. But hey, at least I got a decent sweater out of it.

I move toward the elevator door, only to realize my phone is left behind on the nightstand. I curse under my breath, the words almost foreign in my mouth, and twist the doorknob, stepping back into the room.

The air is thick with the cloying scent of cologne, and the stillness is shattered by a high-pitched shriek. My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, my pulse racing, eyes snapping to Reece.

He's frantically scrambling to cover himself with the blanket, the sheets tangled around his limbs like a trapped animal.

"Fuck!" Reece curses, his face flushing a deep shade of red, a strange mix of alarm and embarrassment washing over him. "What are you still doing here?"

The sight of his panic stirs up something dark in me—a painful reminder of past betrayals, of things I should've let go by now. "I came back for my phone," I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. "But if you're busy with someone else, I'll leave."

Reece stumbles in front of me, his body a solid wall, blocking me from the figure still hidden beneath the covers. "You should go. This is... awkward."

Anger flares inside me, hot and sudden, a sharp edge to my voice. "I didn't come back for more. I came back for my phone. But now, I don't know what to think."

Reece grabs my arm, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. His fingers burn against my skin, but I don't pull away—not yet. His eyes avoid mine, and his frustration is palpable, a mix of discomfort and something colder. "Look, just go. This was a one-night stand. I didn't mean to make things complicated."

I yank my arm away, the frustration bubbling over like a volcano on the verge of eruption. "Fine. I'll go. But not before I get my phone."

I reach for the device, but Reece holds it up, his gaze still trained on the floor. The air between us feels heavier now, the silence suffocating. "Here. Just... please go."

I snatch my phone from his hand, the sensation of his touch lingering on my skin like an unwanted brand. A tangled mix of relief and irritation swells inside me. "Thanks. And... good luck with everything especially hoe number nine."

Reece narrows his eyes, his gesture sharp and dismissive, as he motions toward the door. "Number nine is just a girl I see sometimes. I don't owe you any explanations."

I cross my arms, my jaw tightening, the sting of his words landing like a slap to the face. "You said you didn't have a girlfriend. What else did you lie about?"

His expression hardens, a wall of indifference rising between us. "It's not your concern. It was a one-night stand. That's all it was."

Conflicted emotions churn inside me—anger, hurt, betrayal—all coiling together like a knot in my chest. "Why lie about it all? It's not just about last night."

Reece doesn't respond. His hand guides me toward the elevator, his touch cold and impersonal, like he's trying to rush me out, get rid of the mess I've made of whatever this is. "Look, it's not a big deal. I don't owe you anything. It was supposed to be one night."

The elevator doors open with a soft ping, and I step inside, the air between us thick with unsaid things. The weight of his words presses down on me like a physical force, suffocating the breath from my lungs.

I grip my phone tighter, the cool glass offering no comfort, no release. The doors close, and I feel it—the bitter aftertaste of rejection, settling deep in my gut, like I've swallowed something sharp.

The elevator descends with a hum, but the sound is distant, like it's happening in someone else's world. My fingers tighten around the phone, each pulse through my veins a reminder of what I've just walked away from.

The doors open with a soft chime, and I step into the hotel lobby, the chaos of the bustling crowd like a foreign world. The noise surrounds me, a blur of voices, footsteps, and clinking coffee cups—but none of it reaches me. I'm a ghost, moving through the world but not part of it.

I push through the lobby doors, stepping into the street. The city pulses around me, people hurrying in every direction, and yet, I feel like I'm standing still.

My phone feels heavy in my hand, its cold screen offering little more than a lifeline to a world that doesn't make sense anymore. I brace myself for the day ahead, but the weight of the previous hour still clings to me—bitter, unrelenting.

It's a harsh reality: I'm trapped in this cycle of bad decisions, circling back to where I started. Nothing ever changes, and I can't seem to escape the patterns I've built for myself.

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