Trespassing

Trip's POV

It killed me to wake her up, it really did. I sat in the driver's seat just... staring. The sun was disappearing. The sky was a texture of pinkish salmon and orange. The buildings of Boston towered, trying to eclipse some of the view. None of it actually mattered, because where the view was pretty... Ava was just... I couldn't tear my eyes for long.

She was all bundled up in my long jacket. Her face nestled in it. Ava's eyelids didn't flutter as I reached with a tentative hand, simply moving a strand, but at the last minute my knuckles brushed against her nose. Her cute nose wrinkled—like a kitten's, all that was left was for her to have whiskers.

"Ava," I shook her softly. "Time to wake up, we're here." She only moved around, tucking the beige coat tighter. A smile cracked my lips. "Rosy, wakey-wakey."

A low groan came from the girl below my trench coat; she shifted rubbing a hand over the right side of her face.

One eye peeked open, "I'm not Rosy..." I chuckled. That worked like a charm. "You better stop calling me that."

"Or...?" I tempted her, my lips curved up.

"Or I'll start calling you 'Charlie'."

"Who said I would mind?" her eyes twinkled awakening more and more by the second. "I'm at peace with my middle name." A smirk deepened my lips.

Ava blinked her eyes several times before staring ahead—at me.

"That doesn't surprise me... your middle name wasn't picked out by a three year old." Okay she lost me there. She saw me frowning lightly and shook her head. "Never mind—so," Ava stretched her body, her legs dropping from the seat. "We're here?" sparks of excitement covered her gaze and voice—who cared about names anymore? Not me.

"Yeah, we are."

Ava leaned forward, never letting go of my jacket—it was getting all wrinkled, I didn't give a shit about it though—her eyes were marveling every bit of the view.

"I'm not in New York..." she mumbled to herself. I couldn't read her tone— "Wow," there was a tiny laugh.

"It's pretty—" another laugh, another one—and... and anything I'd been thinking about vanished when her arms went around my neck. Ava had to slide over the gearshift to hug me—kinda dangerous if the car wasn't off. Slowly, my thoughts returned. "It's pretty nice here."

Her sweet scent flared my nostrils. It completely fried my brain leaving me dizzy.

"It's fantastic—it's..." she was saying that without having seen anything. "Sorry," I shrugged as Ava gave me back space to breathe. Her hair crowded her face keeping me from seeing the heated cheeks. "And here," she all but shoved the coat into my lap. "Thanks, it was warm."

I threw the jacket in the back while she got her seatbelt on—when had she taken it off? Oh well.

"It's getting late. We should get to a hotel."

I nodded pulling out my phone. I touched the screen multiple times. I was on Google Maps soon, I searched for hotels nearby. I didn't want too expensive. Big shot hotels meant attention and rich people. With my luck, I'd run into someone who knew my parents—or someone would recognize me. I wasn't taking chances, not when Ava was with me. I stopped scrolling down. It was a three star hotel and it stayed in the center of everything. Nice.

"Wanna guess where we're going to stay?" she tried holding back a yawn—failing.

"I don't know any hotels here, Thomas."

"Neither do I," I shrugged, placing my phone on GPS mode. "Actually, this is my first time in Boston, too. So thank God for modern technology." I grinned at her worried glance.

Ava crossed her arms lightly, "I've heard it's better to walk in Boston." I shrugged. "Are we going to get lost?"

"Only if our phones run of out battery," she was looking outside admiring the view.

"What are we going to do here?" she quipped all of a sudden.

This weekend was a chance to run away from family, problems and all that crazy shit. I just wanted that. Spending it with Ava was a big bonus.

I gave a loopside shrug, "Whatever we want—we'll do crazy things we wouldn't do in New York, or at least, things you wouldn't do."

Ava met me with a wide mocking grin.

"Of course. Because you do everything you want back home." Almost... I thought looking from her lips to the window pane. "I don't suppose museums or any bit of culture is in our plans, then?" she didn't sound too bummed out about it, there was actually a wishful edge in her voice.

"No, not really. But the plans can totally change if you want." With her I'd do anything. Stand in an art museum listening to a guide—I'd even try not to doze off.

"No—the last thing I want now is to go places and pretend to feel interested." I knew what that felt like, every time I went to a fashion show I had to look like I was paying attention when all I wanted was to be sleeping in my bed. "I do enough pretending back home."

"So it's a deal. We'll do crazy things?"

"How crazy?" she asked unsure, hesitant.

"Who cares? We're in Boston, not New York."

Ava rubbed her naked arm worried. I could guess the wild thoughts running through her mind. After all, there was one thing about me that was very much true: I got into trouble—honestly, I didn't look for it... okay, maybe sometimes I did, but most times it just found me.

"I won't get us arrested, Ava." I assured strongly.

"You better not." She jutted a finger towards my face.

***

We were already in the lobby of The Boston Park Plaza & Towers—damn, that name was big—and for a three star hotel it was pretty nice. I didn't even need to park the car myself, not that I would've minded. The decorations were modern, there wasn't a hint of old fashioned chairs, coffee tables, lamps—whatever. It was all brand new. The guy with our 'extensive' baggage hung nearby. I was going to carry it myself until he came along and nearly ripped the stuff from my hands. He shouldn't get a tip, but then again, the guy was just doing his job.

Ava was right beside me, gazing around—outside, through the big windows. I had the sense she wanted to skip sleeping and explore the city all night long. Maybe I shouldn't have let her sleep the whole trip...

"How long will you be staying?"

"Two nights," tonight and Saturday—on Sunday we had to check out, and late in the afternoon we would have to head back home. "It's one room with two queens." I mumbled absently, I was glancing at Ava from the corner of my eye. She looked radiant—

"I'm sorry, sir." I turned a sharp eye to the hotel employee. Seemed like even here people were making sure my thoughts didn't linger too much on my Bambi. "We only have standard rooms right now."

I knitted my eyebrows, "And what exactly is a standard room?"

"Their standard queen rooms, they have only one bed."

There was stiffening beside me. It didn't take me long to know who had stopped dead.

"Only one bed?" I said stupidly like I had problems understanding English. He nodded. Crap. "Sorry then, we won't be stay—"

"It's okay." I met her chocolate gaze completely dumbfounded. Ava was steady, holding my gaze. "We can... share." She fiddled with the ends of her scarf—nervous gesture alert.

"No, we don't have to. We can stay in another hotel." Though, the only other three star hotel wasn't as—

"We'll stay here." I paused what I'd been about to say. I didn't know what I could say. Why was Ava pushing for this? Not that I minded. There would be no complaints from me, but at the same time... I didn't want this. Something inside knew it wasn't a smart idea. "Really, I don't mind. As long as you sleep on your side and keep your hands to yourself."

"What happens if I don't?"

"Let's just say you better learn how to fly." Ava sweetly replied, it was a playful threat—the man's eyes widened a little though.

I caught myself before answering.

"Guess we'll stay after all."

Ava's POV

What had I been thinking? Why did I agree to stay here—now I was stuck sharing a bed with Thomas. A bed! Not just tonight either, two nights... it was like... like my body was this machine operating completely on what Trip invoked in me—in my heart. I should've totally followed my brain on this one.

I jumped when I heard the door close. Thomas chucked his wallet to the only table our room had—it was round, enough for two people to eat on, three if you squeezed. My eyes darted from the wallet to its owner—then back at the discarded object. My senses were going to fry.

Thomas stopped in front of me.

"Are you okay?" no, I shouldn't have agreed to sharing a bed—scratch that, I shouldn't have let him drag me on this weekend getaway in the first place.

"Ah... sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

I saw his eyebrow—the one with the scar—cock.

"Because you're giving me a weird look."

Okay, Ava, chill. The guy's been great—amazing... he's your friend.Yes, I agreed with myself, this was Thomas. The one from therapy, the one who came up with stupid games, the one who helped me catch up with school work—my friend.

The feeling of his tongue wasn't far when the image of us and a lollipop hurled itself at me. Friends didn't do those things.

I was on the brink of frustration.

"I... am?" boy was I being stupid.

He nodded easing himself on the seat beside me.

"This is because we're sharing a bed, isn't it?" he waited for me to say something, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "I told you we could've gone to another hotel—we still can." He pointed out scratching the faint scar.

"No," I found myself muttering. A ball had formed in my chest, one made of sympathy and gratefulness. He was being his usual cool, awesome self about things—I was being a frigid old dated lady from the eighteen century. "I told you, I don't mind sharing a bed. There's nothing wrong with that." There really wasn't. Not when I trusted Thomas. "I'm hungry, though."

Trip graced me with a short grin before lifting himself off the loveseat, walking to the phone.

"So that's your give-me-food-or-I'll-run-away-forever look?" I chuckled embarrassed looking the other way—where the bed was. Nice. "What do you me to order?"

I shrugged, "I'm not picky."

While he was busy ordering, I decided to explore—not that there was much to explore. There were two rooms. The bedroom which consisted on a queen bed, the loveseat I'd been sitting on, the little round table with two chairs, a wardrobe and a TV on the wall. The other room was the bathroom.

I pushed open the door, being met with freshly cleaned tiles—I could smell the cleaning products. Everything in the bathroom was pristine, the sink with the mirror and cabinet, the toilet, and the shower. A black rug was close to the shower's entrance.

"It'll be ready in thirty minutes." This time I didn't jump, I'd heard him coming in. "Anything interesting?" I shrugged pivoting around him—his warm fingers wrapped my wrist. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"

Huh. Thomas in a towel? What was there to mind—darn, I was losing grip of my adult-concealed imagination.

"Why would I mind?" I think there was a tiny hysterical laugh but I clamped my lips together. No more sound.

"You could want to use it." He unwrapped those scorching fingers leaving a cold mark where they'd been. "And since I'm a gentleman I'd let you use it first."

That was so—don't think about it. I desperately coaxed myself.

"You a gentleman?" I teased. "I haven't seen you open the door for me or anything." I rolled my eyes at his sly smile. "Use the bathroom all you want, it's all yours."

Right before the door closed—

"Just so you know, I love hot water."—slam.

I darted for the knob knowing him using the shower wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Don't you dare, Harrington! Don't you dare use up all the hot water." I knocked on the wood several times the only response was a chuckle. "I don't want to take a shower..." I mumbled dragging myself towards the bed. But... the idea of seeing Trip walking out of the bathroom, skin all hot and steamy... I bit my lip burying my face in the duvet.

***

I had half a mind to throw the damn phone outside. I'd lost another game of Angry Birds.

With a silent sigh I let the Sony Ericson slip from my hand, landing safely on the mattress. My eyes inadvertently locked on the door in front of me—the bathroom door. I'd been sitting for about twenty minutes. The water kept being used in there. Thomas was taking a lot longer than the other day at his house—to most girls fifteen minutes was a quick shower, so, in their minds Thomas was doing a good time. I wasn't one of those girls. The term 'quick shower' told me I could waste five to seven minutes.

"Finally," I looked up thanking God if there was one—the water had been turned off. "I was beginning to think you slipped and..." and my words were taken by the sight emerging from the steam, warm bathroom.

A very teeny tiny part of me quickly prayed to baby Jesus to send him back in. Another stayed completely immobile. Staring, gaping—ogling—why not just copy adjectives from an internet page? I was doing everything but looking at his face.

His chest was... I could cut diamonds on that thing. I'd seen his very naked chest before—heck, I'd cried myself to sleep on that masterpiece—but... his skin was red, droplets of water rushing down. They were so lean and sharp. There was a faint trail of chest hair below his bellybutton; I wished my eyes hadn't picked up on that. It disappeared below... below the towel draped around his narrow hips.

"Sorry," the word was a muffled mumble—I drove my eyes up and melted. Trip was drying his hair off with a smaller towel, had been since he waltzed out. Relief bloomed in my chest like a rose in the spring. "What did you say?" every piece of him looked refreshed, including his eyes—they were luminescent sapphires.

"I—" a knock came from the door before I had to engage in another awkward conversation. "I'll get it! You're not decent." I rushed for the door thankful for room service and their impeccable timing.

I wheeled in what the man had delivered. I pretended to stare at the meal—when I uncovered it—the truth was, I was dying to look up.

"Hamburgers and French fries... my mom would kill me if—"

"No talking about parents on this trip." I thought that was only in the car? Not that I was complaining. Not talking about moms and dads was paradise. "You don't want to end up like your bitchy friend, do you?" I inhaled sharply when Thomas was inches from brushing my arm with his sculptured body—he popped a fry into his mouth.

I took a step back thinking about what he said.

"Brenda?" I asked sounding dumb, he nodded eating another one. "What's wrong with her?"

"Besides being made of skin and bones? Nothing." He shrugged going for another French fry—"Ow!" he glared at me with a kicked puppy expression.

I placed my hands on my hips, trying to look severe—when I just wanted to drool myself to death—and thought of something to say, to... to scold him with, since I'd just hit his hand.

"People usually get dressed before eating." I knew this wasn't much, but I was proud of thinking of something, other than the truth. "So... get dressed."

"Adam and Eve didn't have clothes in Eden, they still ate—"

I threw him a pillow from the loveseat. This was so not the time to talk about the people who supposedly populated the world. Not when the only thing he had on was a white towel.

"They didn't know what shame was—but they did after eating the apple. So, go and get dressed." His lips quivered, though Trip said nothing as he moved to his bag pulling out some fresh clothes.

What had I gotten myself into...?

"There, I'm dressed." He came out of the bathroom, arms open like he was showing off his clothes—T-shirt, jeans—no socks. "Can I eat now?"

"Yup," it was like someone turned on the air conditioner. His clothes did wonders for my body. "This is your plate." I pushed the one from where he'd been stealing fries towards him.

We sat down. At first I picked at my food, stabbing my fork into the burger's soft tissue. The awkwardness died down when Thomas started moving his fries around, arranging them so they'd form words—he was literally playing with his food. I couldn't help but giggle at it; I knew he was doing it for me, though. The words weren't anything funny, they were simple. I finished all of my hamburger but left lots of fries. They were too much for me. Trip on the other hand, ate all of his and mine.

"You're stomach is a black hole." I mussed as he drank the last of his OJ. He used his napkin before grinning fully. How did he stay so... fit? "You're not on the lacrosse team." I'd watched the practices after school hours along with the trio and never saw him on the field. "Why?"

"Because when I enrolled the season had already begun, all the spots were taken." I heard the little mourn behind his dismissive tone. "It's not a big deal. I settle for the gym." Fitness mystery solved.

The conversation went on. It was casual, easy-going, no worries about it. I told him about my blog. How I loved sights, photography and dogs. He liked dogs too. Thomas told me how he was allergic to strawberries—shocker, he had another imperfection only it wasn't visible—how working on cars made him calm down and reflect about things, he told me about Gabriel, too.

In the midst of talking, we'd moved to the two seat couch and by the time I figured I'd tell him about Lindsey—my own best friend—I found myself pulling on Thomas' hand, gently. His eyes opened sluggishly.

"Get up," I softly whispered, giving another light tug. After a few seconds of shaking his head, he complied. "Bed's this way, come on." I forced down a giggle when he tried to walk into a wall.

I only noticed it was past one in the morning when Trip unceremoniously plopped onto our bed. I placed my phone on my bedside table so it wouldn't get buried under him. I gathered my pj's—a pair of sleeping shorts and a T-shirt—my tooth brush and tooth paste, barreling myself in our little bathroom.

The mirror wasn't fogged up. After his shower it would've been impossible to see anything in it. I got ready slowly, mulling over what was waiting for me on the other side of the door. I couldn't help to think how normal it must be for Thomas to share his bed. So normal it was horrible, and if the thought was horrific to me... I could only imagine what it was like for him, to be used as a living sex toy. A chill rippled through me.

Before heading back, I made sure the corners of my lips were clean, not white.

I closed the door behind me soundlessly, just as I did, my eyes warmed at the sight of Thomas. There had been enough energy left in him to change into a pair of flannels. But not to get under the covers, I shook my head.

I faced my side of bed. It was now. Time for bed, I chided.

Curling a hand on the duvet and sheet, I slipped under them without making too much commotion. I didn't want to wake him up. Thomas was on his side facing the enormous window pane. It was a good thing the blinds were drawn or he'd have an early awakening.

I inched closer. Since he was on top of the sheets I couldn't steal the covers. That was okay. Even in the dim darkness I saw the layout of his shoulders; so beautiful and elegant... I touched my fingers to the middle of his spine. He shivered, maybe he was cold? They were soft—baby-skin soft—I didn't want to pull away. I wanted to keep tracing down, exploring everything.

I bit my lip after forcing my finger to stop. Most weekends Thomas had to pleasure girls, I bet he would rather sleep fitfully. He deserved to have a weekend off.

Closing my eyes, I felt all of me relax on a criminal level, all because I felt his warmth and citrusy scent.