Keira

Score: Habits - Tove Lo

The first thing that hits me, as I step into Benjamin's suite, is the heavy smell of weed. The room is shrouded in complete darkness, so I have to blink a couple of times to adjust my eyes. I trip on something soft, lying across the hallway, then stumble and spread my arms to my sides to help keep my balance.

I pause, before resuming my walk further into the suite, the smell of weed now getting mixed with alcohol and sweat.

I reach the end of the short hallway, then circle past the console table next to the wall on the left. Thank God I know these suites like the back of my hand because our state-of-the-art black-out curtains are making it difficult for me to find my way.

I pass the foot of the bed, and trip on something again, before I make my way to the massive window on the other end of the suite.

I reach out in front of me in the dark, and my fingers brush the soft fabric of the black-out curtains. I fumble with the curtains for a few seconds, before my hand closes around the small lever, which operates them. With a flick of my wrist, I turn it to the left, and the curtains start dragging towards the two opposite ends of the window with a faint rustling sound.

As the first rays of the blistering Spanish sun splash into the room, I almost feel the urge to shield my eyes from the light. To adjust my vision, I turn my back to the window and face the room.

My gaze slides across the floor and the mess, lying around.

Bloody hell, where did all this stuff come from?

There are clothes, scattered all over the floor. Must be what I tripped over on my way to the window. His trousers are lying haphazardly at the foot of the bed. My eyes wander a little further to the right and are instantly met with the remains of the vest top he was wearing last night. And are those his boxers, lying next to them? There are also some bits and bobs I don't recognize. It sure looks like there was a fucking party going on in here last night. There are way too many items of clothing to be assigned to just one person, rock star or not...

Oh, my God!

I flinch as my gaze falls on the used condom on the floor by his side of the bed, and...Fucking hell, no! A wrinkled Lavet Hotels uniform jacket is lying in the hallway! That must be what I first tripped over when I entered the room.

A lump materializes in my throat, making it impossible to breathe in the already stuffy room. My eyes are glued on the jacket, and I can't seem to tear them away...

A loud groan, coming from the direction of the bed, makes me let out a yelp, as my eyes snap toward the source of the sound, and are instantly met with the sight of Benjamin's completely naked body, sprawled face-down on the bed.

I gasp and lower my gaze to my feet quickly, but not quick enough to miss the massive tattoo on his back, covering his skin from his left shoulder all the way down to his right butt cheek.

A very round, very firm butt cheek at that.

Heat rushes into my head, making me instantly light-headed. My eyes are desperately jumping across the spots of cream carpet, visible under the mess on the floor, trying to anchor to something, anything that's not screaming "orgy" at me, but, still, my heart jumps to my throat, as I hear Benjamin stir in his bed.

What the fuck am I doing here, in his room, while he is butt-naked?

"I was positive you were into me, Miss Vough," Benjamin drawls from the bed. And, again, as if drawn by magnets, my eyes instantly snap to his face, careful not to fall to...something else. Thank God, at least he's thrown the sheet across his waist. "But I thought you would be more...subtle," he shields his eyes from the light and nods his head towards the window.

His eyes are glazed over, and he's clearly still high. A cocky smirk is playing on his full lips, and I want nothing more than to erase it from his stupid, slackened face.

"Yeah, well," I say, trying very hard to keep my voice from shaking. "You are totally safe with me. Completely not interested," I fold my arms across my chest and start walking toward the bed, playing brave, but careful not to touch any of the objects, scattered across the floor. "As opposed to your management, and the journalists and hundreds of fans out there, who are very interested in meeting with you."

His eyes narrow, and he looks at me with confusion, written all over his face. Does he even know what he's supposed to be doing right now? Does he even know what day it is? Does he care?

"Jeanine sent me to take you to the press conference, and I warn you, I've been cleared to drag you by the hair if I have to." I reach the foot of the bed, then kick it with the nose of my shoe.

He chuckles, and I watch as his Adam's apple moves up and down. But he doesn't get out of the bed.

"Now get your ass out of that bed and get into the shower."

Angry heat rises to my face, as I keep talking. I shouldn't be doing this. This is not what I signed up for! I am a sales associate, aspiring to become a sales manager, not a fucking babysitter...

He laughs, then reaches for his bedside table.

My gaze traces his movement and scans the stuff, scattered around the knocked-off bedside lamp. There's a half-empty bottle of Lagavulin right next to the overflowing glass-turned-ashtray...

My eyes dart up to the smoke detector in the corner of the room, and I nearly let out a laugh, when I see that the old college trick with the condom, placed over the detector has made a complete joke out of our super-high-end and super-expensive smoke detection system.

I snap my eyes back to his bedside table. There's a big, fat, half-smoked joint among the cigarette butts, and a couple of crushed pills, right next to the open box of condoms...

The lump in my throat swells even more. My eyes begin to sting, but I can't tell whether it is from the residual smell of weed and cigarettes, or because of the anger, bubbling even hotter inside my chest.

This is so fucking humiliating!

Benjamin reaches into the makeshift ashtray and retrieves the half-smoked joint, then fumbles with the sheets, before grasping a silver lighter from under the pillow next to him. Then, he puts the joint between his teeth and lights it up, as if he hasn't got a single care in the world. As if he's not supposed to be downstairs, fresh like a cucumber in less than twenty minutes. And as if there isn't a representative of the hotel standing right in front of him, and there isn't a strict no-smoking policy in all of our hotels, that he and his bandmates have been very diligently made aware of.

Anger flaring like a nasty eczema across my skin, I stomp towards him until I'm standing right beside him, careful not to step on the condom, and I reach out with my hand and snatch the weed out of his mouth.

"There's no smoking in the room!" I yell, stubbing it with way too much force in the glass, overflowing with cigarette butts. "And smoking in bed is a serious fire hazard!"

"Oh yeah?" He says, eyes locking with mine. A grin flashes on his face, and then his hands are around my waist, and in a flash of a second, I am on my back on the bed beside him, his body hovering above mine, his hips pinning mine to the bed.

The air is knocked out of my lungs, not because of his weight on top of me, or because his movement was harsh, or hurt me in any way. On the contrary, for someone, who's clearly still high, and despicably reckless, he put me on my back with such swift grace, that it's caught me by surprise and drove my brain into override that's making it hard to remember how to breathe.

I am almost painfully aware of the heat of his body, flooding my skin through my clothes and the thin sheet around his hips. I can feel him harden against my thigh. Not breaking eye contact even for a split second, his hot breath fanning across my face, Benjamin moves his hands from my hips to find my wrists, and then he pins my hands above my head on the bed.

"And what are you going to do about it, Miss Vough?" He says, his voice hoarse with sleep, and drink, and smoke, and something else I can't quite figure out, that Australian accent sending shivers down my spine.

We stare into each other's eyes for a couple of seconds, the world around us dissolving into thin air, the air between us instantly charging, just like it had last night, when his eyes locked with mine, while I was in the pit and he was on stage. I feel like there is a live wire, buzzing with electricity, directly connecting my pupils to his, and I need to move my eyes away so that I don't get burnt from the voltage, but I don't want to. I want to feel the current.

He breaks eye contact first, setting me free from the spell of his green eyes, which flick to my lips. In turn, my eyes flutter to his lips and the notion that they are so close to mine that I can almost taste the whisky on his breath sends a full-body shiver, from the crown of my head all the way down to my Choo-clad feet. I draw my eyes away from his lips with effort and trace the curve of his brow, the slope of his nose, and the stubble, throwing a shadow over his cheeks, then move to his hair, tousled from sleep. A thick curl is falling over his forehead and into his eyes, and his face is so close to mine that I can almost feel it tickle my forehead.

I am aware that his breathing has become strained and shallow, as well, a tell-tale sign that I am not alone at this party, and when my eyes move back to his, his pupils have taken over almost all of the stunning green of his irises. The cocky look on his face is gone, now replaced by that same surprise and vulnerability I've seen only once before - in Paris. The glaze is now gone from his eyes and his gaze is taking in my face, as if he's seeing it for the first time...

The Apple watch on my wrist and my phone in the pocket of my jacket buzz at the same time, jolting my brain awake. The lust-driven haze, enveloping me evaporates instantly, leaving only anger and indignation in its wake. My whole body stiffens under Benjamin's, as if just now registering what's going on, and I let out a frustrated scream, as my knee peels off the bed, on its own command, aiming for his balls, but finding the back of his left thigh instead.

It does the trick because Benjamin rolls off me with a grunt, and I leap off the bed as if it's made of live ambers.

I turn around to face him, and my eyes are met with the sight of a scared boy, wincing with pain and remorse, instead of the arrogant man I was looking at mere seconds ago.

"You've gone too far this time, you fucking shit!" I yell, frustration rolling through my body in waves. I don't think I've ever felt as angry or as humiliated before. "I'm not one of the girls, throwing themselves at your feet! Stay the fuck away from me!"

Then, in the blink of an eye, I am on the other side of his door, out in the hallway, and I don't even remember how I got here. All I know is I have the Lavet Hotels uniform jacket that was lying in the hallway folded in my hands, and the panicked, remorseful look on Benjamin's face, when I turned to face him, all high gone from his system, flashing before my eyes.