"Alright, let's move on," he said, seeming to get that I wasn't ready to go over that kind of topic. "You have a bag, right?"
I nodded at that, moving toward my closet to pull down a huge, old, hideous, but adorable floral piece of luggage I had asked my grandmother for when I was younger.
I went immediately for my dresser, grabbing a few pairs of leggings, a few tees, and then tried to very discreetly throw in some undies and bras before moving to my closet to grab some sweaters, rolling them up so they didn't wrinkle.
I could just wear the shoes I wore today for the other days. It was easy to pair anything up with a set of black ballet flats.
I ran to the bathroom to throw a couple basic necessities into a plastic bag, then made my way back into my room.
"Got an extra suitcase?" he asked, taking it from me after I zipped it.
"I don't need one. This is all I need for a few days." That part should have been kinda obvious since it was only like a third full anyway.
"Cute that you are so low maintenance, Ree. But I meant for the books. I'm assuming we'll need to rent a moving truck to store them all?"
"You know me well," I said with a smile as I went to my closet to get a plain black duffle that actually managed to fit a lot. "Okay. I think that's it," I declared, unzipping the other suitcase to slip the duffle inside.
"Nope."
"What'd I forget?" I asked, looking around.
"Good morning, Ree," he said oddly, making my gaze move to his face. "You forgot to say good morning."
"Oh, um," I mumbled, shuffling my feet because this seemed incredibly awkward. "Good morning?"
His lips twitched as he reached out to put his hands on my hips, pulling me closer. Pulling me until my legs pressed into his knees, then started pulling me downward. A little too dazed to pull away, I ended up on his lap.
"This kinda good morning, baby," he declared a second before his lips went to mine.
And, well, yeah.
I stopped thinking for a good, long time.
And I only started again when he pulled back, stroking his thumb over my swollen lower lip.
"That's how we say good morning from now on."
"I, ah, I think I can handle that," I mumbled, brain trying to catch up.
"Alright, let's go before I get any ideas," he declared, gently pushing me onto my own feet as he stood.
Ideas.
Yeah, no. We wouldn't want him getting any of those.
Right?
Normally, I would obsess about that for a while, but then Cy's hand was slipping into mine, and pulling me through my apartment, hauling my big, super girly luggage in his other hand like it was no big deal.
And, quite frankly, if I was getting a day with Cyrus as my, um, more-than-friend, then I didn't want to waste a single second of it not being fully present to enjoy it.
The train into the city was pretty much full of people-watching, looking out the window, telling Cyrus about the authors I was excited to see when prompted, and desperately trying not to let on just how affected I was by his hand on my knee, occasionally moving around, tracing the shape of it, giving it gentle squeezes.
I didn't want it to end, but then the train was pulling into Penn Station, and instead of rubbing my knee, he was lacing his fingers between mine and, yeah, that was just as good in my humble opinion.
Now, you have to understand something about me to truly get what followed next.
I grew up poor.
Not with an average paycheck-to-paycheck household.
Not just not being able to have name brand school clothes.
Not just having no computer in the house.
No.
I mean there was more than one occasion when we had no lights, when the water got shut off for a day or two, when we all had to be quiet and pretend we weren't home when the landlord showed up and mom was three months behind on payments.
There was no money for new sneakers every year, let alone vacations.
So I had never really been exposed to anything grand before.
Walking into the lobby of the hotel was like falling through the rabbit hole, it was like going through the wardrobe, it was like walking into the halls of Hogwarts.
It was a completely different world from one I had ever seen before.
I actually pulled Cyrus to a stop because he had kept walking, and I had stood frozen, completely and utterly transfixed by the gleaming tile floors, the vibrant golden wallpaper, the thick pillars, the mesmerizing, enormous glass chandeliers. Yes, plural. From where I stood, I could see four of them. But I had a feeling there were more.
To the sides, there were low, brown leather couches and black coffee tables, flanked by healthy mini trees. To the front, there was a low, golden service desk with funky reddish wall art behind it, and two attendants immaculately dressed in suits.