A cracked door lets soft music cloak the hallway, and I follow the wonderful melody to find out whose room it belongs to. The violins in the background are almost sad, as the rest of the orchestra blares a dramatic burn that finds its way to my soul.
Wow.
I peek through to see the room belongs to Tag, and my breath catches in my throat. Through the crack, I can see his perfectly chiseled upper body - each line of definition exquisitely mouthwatering.
Oh my damn.
His body glistens from the shower he has apparently taken to rid him of the fountain water. I want to go run my hands over his glorious ripples, feel his firmness against me, and press my lips to his perfectly modeled ones.
I watch as he pulls the dresser drawer open and pulls out a shirt. It slides over his dampened head and then covers his body - that I can’t seem to stop staring at - before resting just past the waistband of his dark jeans.
He walks out of sight, and I rock back and forth to see more through the crack in hopes of finding him again, when the door suddenly swings open and he almost runs over me.
“Oh,” he chuckles in surprise as my face beams red. “Hey.”
Way to get busted, stalker bitch.
“Um, hey. Sorry, I heard the music, and I was... curious?”
One eyebrow arches as he looks down to meet my eyes, his towering body no longer such a mystery. Now that I’ve seen his upper half, I want to see the rest.
“Come in,” he murmurs while grabbing my hand and tugging me.
Without any real thought process, I follow too willingly into the room where his bed stares me in the face.
“Um, I should… um… this is probably… I shouldn’t-”
His laughter interrupts my unintelligible ramble, and he shakes his head just as the first big boom rattles the sky. I look out to his balcony to see the first of the fireworks extraordinaire, and smile as the crackling embers sizzle and fade into the night sky.
“I didn’t want to watch them alone. My balcony has a great view, and since you’re already here, you can keep me company. I can avoid the giggling eyes of everyone who watched me splash in the Little Mermaid fountain this way.”
I let a laugh escape, and he grabs the bottle of chilled champagne from his bedside table before ushering me out onto the balcony. His room is way better than mine.
“And I thought the princess room was nice,” I murmur, feigning envy.
He snickers as the second boom erupts, and a vibrant green lights the sky before turning to white in a starburst pattern.
“This was my room growing up,” he says as we sit at the bistro table.
He scoots his chair over to where his body is dangerously close to mine, and then a loud pop rings out as he frees the champagne bottle of its cork.
“Sorry,” he says as the bubbles crackle over the rim. “I don’t have any glasses. I’ll run and grab some.”
“I’m not exactly high-class, so I can manage,” I say while taking it from him and bringing the bottle to my lips.
I smile as the fizzing bubbles gather inside my mouth before sliding down the back of my throat.
Mmm.
He smiles as if he likes my low-maintenance maneuver, and then he takes the bottle and shows his more relaxed and less formal self by mimicking me and turning the bottle up as well.
“So, you have your own room here?” I muse as our eyes turn to catch the next big, thunderous beauty enriching the starry sky over the ocean.
“Yeah. I practically lived with Melanie from the time I was eight until I graduated, so I have a room in all her homes. Melanie is the closest thing to a mother I've ever known.”
My heart breaks a little. Billy never mentioned that.
“Oh. What… um… never mind,” I ramble, realizing I shouldn’t ask such a personal question about his real mother.