The Wrong Room I

Ava's POV 

The hotel was louder than I expected. People moved through the halls carrying dresses, gift bags, flower boxes, and bottles of champagne. Somewhere downstairs, music was playing, and every few seconds, someone laughed loudly.

It was the night before my cousin's wedding, and I was already tired. I stood in front of a hotel room, staring at the number on my key card.

“Room 408,” I whispered. I looked at the number on the door. 408. Perfect. I pushed the card against the lock. The light turned green. I smiled. “At least something is going right.” I opened the door and walked inside. I dropped my small suitcase near the entrance. “Finally.”

I took two steps forward. Then I stopped. A man was standing in the middle of the room. He was tall, very tall and he was staring at me. I stared back. Neither of us said anything. For a few seconds, we simply looked at each other. Then the man slowly lifted an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

My face went hot. I looked at the room number again. “Four-oh-eight.”

“Yes.”

“This is room 408?”

“Yes.”

I looked at him. “Then why are you here?”

His mouth opened slightly like surprised to the question. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

I looked around. There was a suitcase beside the bed. A black jacket hung over a chair. A television was playing quietly. I looked back at him. “Oh my God.”

The man started laughing. I covered my face. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it's not. I just walked into your room.”

“You did.”

“With a key.”

“That part was especially impressive.”

I laughed despite myself. “I swear I'm not trying to rob you.”

“I figured.”

“And I'm not a crazy person.”

“I haven't completely ruled that out yet.”

I laughed again. The tension disappeared. I pulled out my phone and checked my booking information. Room 408. That was definitely what it said. “Wait,” I said.

The man came a little closer. “What?”

“My reservation says 408.”

He checked his own phone. “Mine too.”

We stared at each other. “That makes no sense,” I said.

“No, it doesn't.”

I called the front desk. After several minutes of explaining, apologizing, and listening to the receptionist apologize back, I finally ended the call. I sighed.

“What happened?” he asked.

“They gave me the wrong key.”

He shook his head. “And your actual room?”

“There is a plumbing problem.”

“You're joking.”

“I wish.”

“They can't give you another room?”

“They're trying to find one. Apparently the hotel is almost full because of the wedding.”

I rubbed my forehead. “This is embarrassing.”

“Don't worry about it.”

I picked up my suitcase. “I'll just wait downstairs.”

“You can wait here.”

I looked at him. “Here?”

“Sure. They're fixing your room. You might as well sit somewhere comfortable.”

I hesitated. He smiled. “I promise I won't attack you.”

“That is exactly what an attacker would say.”

He laughed. “Fair point.”

I smiled. “I'm Ava.”

“Ryan.”

We shook hands.

His hand was warm, and for some reason, I noticed. I quickly pulled mine away. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

I sat on the small sofa near the window. Ryan picked up the remote. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, I'm fine. Maybe you need food.”

“Definitely.”

He ordered pizza, fries, and drinks. A few minutes later, we were sitting across from each other, sharing the food while a movie played on television. At first, we talked about simple things. The wedding, our families, the hotel, the strange key situation. Then I looked at Ryan properly. I suddenly remembered him.

“You were at the rehearsal.”

Ryan looked at me. “You noticed me?”

I immediately looked down at my pizza. “Maybe.”

He smiled. “I noticed you too.”

My eyes lifted. “Really?”

“You were wearing a blue dress.”

I blinked. “You remember that?”

“I remember.”

I tried to hide my smile. “So you were watching me?”

“Maybe.”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“You were watching me first.”

“I was not.”

“You were.”

I laughed. “You're very confident.”

“Only when I'm right.”

We continued talking. Somehow, the conversation became easier. Ryan told me about growing up with his younger brother. I told him about my cousin and how close we were. We laughed about embarrassing family stories. The movie ended, but neither of us noticed. The room had become quieter. I looked at the clock. Almost midnight. “My room should be ready soon.”

“Hopefully.”

I nodded. Neither of us moved. Ryan reached for another piece of pizza at the same time I did. Our fingers brushed. Ryan looked at our hands. Then at me. “Sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize.”

His fingers remained close to mine. I didn't move away. The silence suddenly felt different. I could hear the soft sound of the air conditioner. Ryan shifted closer on the sofa. I didn't move.

“You're very quiet now,” he said.

“So are you.”

“I think I'm trying not to say something stupid.”

I smiled. “What were you going to say?”

He looked at me for a moment. “That you're even prettier up close.”

My smile faded into something softer. “Ryan…”

“What?”

“You shouldn't say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I didn't know how to finish. Because I liked hearing it and also because I liked him. This was supposed to be a simple night waiting for a hotel room. Ryan moved a little closer. I could feel the warmth of his body beside mine. He looked at my lips, then back into my eyes.

“Tell me to move away.”

My heart beat faster. I should have. Instead, I whispered, “I didn't say that.” Ryan smiled. Slowly, he leaned toward me. Our lips met. It was soft at first. Almost uncertain. I pulled back for half a second, my heart racing. Ryan didn't chase me. He simply waited. I looked at him. Then I leaned forward again. This time, the kiss lasted longer.

My fingers curled lightly around the front of his shirt. Ryan's hand rested gently against my waist. When we finally separated, both of us were breathing differently. “This is a bad idea,” I whispered.

“Probably.”

I smiled. “Then why are you still here?”

“Why are you?”

I had no answer. Ryan kissed me again. The kiss became deeper, warmer, harder to ignore.