Let's Make Up

A Room

When the two new colleagues returned from lunch, the day sped up, and before they knew it, it was closing time and people were packing up. John had done as he promised by having Megan set up a hotel for Molly and getting her to talk with the head of the accountancy department for her allowance. Molly liked her right away and it seemed the lady liked her too. She gave her a contact list with everyone in the office who was important, which included her, Rosie Rymer- a name that Molly thought should belong to a comic book character- and of course, John Acker.

Rosie was older, looking to be at least in her late sixties and dressed very formally, but nicely; an outfit that would be suitable for attending church. She told Molly that she felt she must be an old soul after reaching out and flattening some fabric of the cardigan on Molly's shoulder. Rosie said she appreciated how Molly could look good while still being fully covered up, making a comment about young women leaving nothing to men's imaginations anymore. Having already had two encounters where people somehow knew Molly had tattoos without her realizing she'd even seen them before, she thought maybe that was what Rosie was referring to in a round about way. Still, she felt welcomed by Rosie, but spoke prudently with her because she didn't know her yet. Molly had seen some of the sweetest old ladies she'd ever met turn into the meanest and scariest people with just the drop of a hat. Her suspicion became more realistic as she had thanked Rosie for the list and for figuring out the per diem payments for her, and started leaving to go back to the cave of an office she shared with John. Rosie stopped her, wagging a crooked and knobbly finger at her. With a strict voice and creepy glimmer in her eye, Rosie told her that if anyone gave Molly trouble, to call her, and she would set them straight-- that it was her specialty. Molly believed her.

John asked Molly, when she returned to the back, if Megan gave her the hotel information so she showed him everything that had been written down for her.

"The Lakeside Suites are a nice place." He told her.

She found the hotel name a little redundant for a town called Lakeway, but tried to be positive and grateful.

"It says check-in is at 6:00 pm. That doesn't give me too much time." She said looking at the paper.

"I'm making assumptions, but I'm guessing you don't have a car; I can drive you."

"Oh I couldn't ask you to-" Molly started.

"You didn't." He said simply, "I offered."

This is a nice gesture from someone who's supposed to be my boss, Molly thought. She liked how John was quick to answer but always sounded like he had thought about what he was going to say, before actually saying it. Looking up into his eyes again to thank him, she admired his stature and thought he had a certain manliness or tough demeanor and couldn't deny it to herself that she found it incredibly appealing. John rubbed his neck and blinked elsewhere immediately once he realized that they were both looking at each other in silence.

They gathered their paperwork, put on their coats, and headed to the front of the building where Fred was waiting with Molly's bags. He greeted her with a smile and asked,

"So how was your first day Miss. Green?"

"I think it was fine, but who really knows, right? I haven't met everybody yet." She said, glancing over at John, thinking for whatever reason that he might praise her or add some comment.

He didnt catch her look though and just asked Fred if he could take the bags to his car.

"Don't worry, I can take them!" Molly insisted.

"It's no problem, Miss." Fred smiled at her and started toward the door.

"So I'll see you on Monday morning then?" He asked her.

"Of course. Have a good weekend, Fred. Thanks again." She returned.

Fred pulled the bottom of his jacket down after waving generously to her, all the while never even looking in John's direction or saying a single word to him.

When they got to the hotel, there was a curved entrance area for unloading vehicles that John pulled into. He was behind a few cars but still fairly close to the doors. Molly grabbed her bags, thanked him again, and wished him a good weekend. He returned the wish and wanted to say more, but once again, wasn't sure what, so instead he just watched her disappear behind the other cars that blocked his view of the doorway. He had a heavy nagging feeling that made him hesitant to leave without really knowing why. After shoulder checking, he figured it would be best to wait a couple more minutes as traffic had picked up and families were heading to the hotel for its restaurant. There wasn't as much selection for dining in the small town as there was in a city, and some people thought it made them very cultured to be eating at a hotel restaurant, thinking maybe passersby would assume them to be tourists that were gracing the town by staying there.

Inside, Molly was arguing with a concierge who told her that someone was already in the room she requested, under the same name. They continued back and forth with Molly explaining the reservation was only made around 2:00pm and that she got there as soon as she could. The woman told her there was nothing she could do and walked away to start helping another hotel guest. Feeling defeated, Molly moved toward the door and suddenly remembered the list from Rosie. She pulled it out, skimmed the contacts for John, and started dialing his number. She didn't know why she was calling him, or what he would even do, but hoped he'd pick up anyway.

John's cellphone started ringing just as he thought he might make a break for it. He sighed in annoyance,

"What now? I'll never get home at this rate."

He applied the parking brake and slid his thumb over the touch screen to answer the call.

"Hello?" He asked gruffly.

"John... it's Molly."

His heart rate sped up and his mouth got dry as he heard her voice keep going.

"I'm sorry to bother you, and you're probably already home by now no doubt, I don't know who else to call..." She trailed off.

"What's wrong?" John asked assertively to mask his concern.

"Well... I don't have a room."

Her voice faltered and he could hear the emotion behind it.

"I'm still here. Same spot, there was too much traffic, come out." John told her.

He hung up and soon she was in his line of sight, walking toward his car.

"What happened?" He got out and asked her curtly.

"I don't know. I gave them my information but I was told the room was already taken." She explained, "They confirmed the reservation was made, but someone with my name apparently already came in. I was treated like I was somebody trying to steal my own identity."

"That stupid front desk bimbo." He muttered to himself, "And this stupid town."

"I'm sorry?" Molly asked with more confusion as John started grabbing her bags and putting them in his car.

"Why... are you taking my things?"

He stopped and looked at her with a slightly demeaning expression as if she were a child who was pestering him with an obvious question. Standing up after putting the second bag on the back seat, she could see how tall he was and how broad his shoulders were. His brow looked upset and he said in a disgusted tone,

"That cow of a receptionist we work with probably took your room. She's greedy and purposefully bad at her job. She would've had all the confirmation numbers, since she was the one doing the booking, so it would be easy. Everyone knows that small towns don't really care about validation, so nobody needed to check her ID to see if the name matched what was reserved."

He opened the front passenger door for Molly and started walking around to the driver's side. "I have a room. A guest room with an ensuite bathroom. You can stay there."

"I couldn't-" She began to say, and again, like her previous protests, John shut it down.

"I'll deal with the issue on Monday. For now, you can't just stay on the street."

Molly nodded, and while buckling herself in, she thought of Fred whispering to that horrible Megan, calling John a creep. Perhaps it felt a little weird to be given the offer but he seemed protective and soft-hearted below his authoritative manner.

The car ride was silent and when Molly looked over at John, she saw his jaw muscles tense and flexed as if he was clenching his teeth. He wasn't unattractive, quite the opposite, and Molly tried her best not to focus on that, but was, unfortunately, unable to keep herself from thinking about how nice his lips looked and how the faint shadow of where his face had been shaved, was just begging to be touched. She'd always liked the sandpaper-y feel of a man's stubble even though a lot of her friends growing up only liked smooth, and feminine featured or baby faced men.

Soon they arrived at an average looking suburban type house where John parked and began bringing in her bags. He took off his shoes in the entrance and turned a corner opposite to a living room to show her the guest room. It was nice, it had a queen size bed that took up most of it, with some simply fashioned wood furniture and warm beige walls. The bathroom had a toilet and a seaglass tiled shower with very little, but just enough, counter space around the sink.

"Thank you." She grabbed his hand with a squeeze.

John looked surprised at the physical act, aware of how close they were to each other. Unsure of what to do, he quickly broke the contact by pointing elsewhere to show her the living and dining room, as well as the kitchen. He motioned to the carpeted stairs that they passed and stated, "My room is up there." He wanted to add that she shouldn't worry, but felt maybe she would if he did say anything.

"I was going to have one of those pre-made pizzas for dinner, but I can order something if you want." He said with an inclination of a question.

"Pizza is great!" She declared, "Do you mind if I change though? I like to keep my work clothes in good shape."

John made a sort-of hand swoop toward the door of the bedroom he had just shown her, to give her the go ahead. When she returned, she was wearing a large t-shirt and sweatpants. She wasn't wearing socks and he saw that even her feet and ankles had tattoos. He took in the inked artwork covering her arms and stopped himself from reaching out and touching her.

"Tell me about them."

"About what?" Molly asked.

"Your tattoos." He said.

She looked down at herself feeling a little self conscious at knowing he'd paid attention to her. "That'll take too long. Just pick one and I'll give you my best answer."

He took his time looking her over and it made her nervous, but he picked up her left arm, pointing to an outline of a sacred heart.

"I wear my heart on my sleeve I guess." She said, acknowledging his choice and feeling an odd sensation from the warmth of his hand against her skin. He saw her get goosebumps and gently removed his grip out of embarrassment.

"Shakespeare? Why a biblical heart on the left side then?" He inquired.

She smiled a big smile at him and playfully narrowed her eyes. "You're analyzing it too much. Maybe I'm just not a right hand man."

He found himself speechless again, and wondered why he couldn't seem to muster up his voice around her. With the beep of the oven indicating food was ready, he took out the pizza.

"I have a bad habit of eating in front of the TV." He explained, "You don't have to join me if you don't want to though."

"Anything good on right now?" She asked.

"Probably games or cooking shows." He said while grabbing her a plate.

"Let's watch that then." She suggested, following him to the living room and finding a comfy spot on the big couch. She sat on it cross-legged and put her plate on her lap. "I love cooking shows."

John couldn't pay attention to the chefs or what they were making, but, every now and again Molly would tell him she thought something looked amazing. He kept thinking how different she looked in lounge wear and how he'd never been one to like tattoos, especially on women, but since seeing them up close, he wasn't sure he'd find her as attractive without them.

"Oh man, look at that tart. I'd die for that right now." Molly moaned out, making his hair raise.

John watched as another tart shell had rich chocolate ganache poured into it and then get topped with perfectly ripe raspberries. The chef sprinkled crushed bits of green pistachios as garnish and he had to agree, it looked really good.

"Do you like sweets like that?" She asked him, "I've got a bad sweet tooth."

"Yes. As do I." He replied.

She smiled to herself, imagining him picking up a tub of gummy bears or chocolate bars while out for groceries since that's what she would do.

Soon the program was over and Molly yawned. He was tempted to keep watching whatever was on next because she looked very comfortable and seemed like the kind of person who would fall asleep on the couch beside him. He liked that idea but faced the remote towards the TV and clicked it off, telling himself not to get too carried away with his thoughts-- which was hard with the full body stretch she displayed in front of him again.

"Good night." She told him with a sleepy look, walking past him and stopping in the door frame.

He watched her go and let out the breath he'd been holding in, once she finally resigned herself to the room.

"Good night." John replied.