Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 76

The flight was too short; all I did was listen to music. Halfway through, Kent got up to use the bathroom after I said it was okay. He didn't believe the "no seatbelt" sign.

When he returned, the plane was almost landing, so he had to prepare mentally again. He was restless because he had a lot of coffee before the flight. Despite my upset stomach, Gravol worked.

As we started descending, he held my hand, looking tense.

Once we landed, he gasped and gulped as we approached the gate.

"You did it," I whispered, placing my hand on his. "We're here."

"Thank goodness," he said, taking a breath. I let go to get my bag.

He grabbed his bag, and we disembarked quickly since we were near the front. Although I felt queasy, Gravol prevented me from vomiting more than making me feel better.

We collected our bags, and Kent showed me the way out. He guided me to the driver holding a sign that read "Chavez."

"Good morning, Mr.," the driver said. "How was the flight?"

"Terrible, as always," Kent replied, introducing me as his girlfriend. "It's nice to meet you," I said with a smile and nod.

Our bags were loaded into the car, and Kent opened the door for me. I sat in the back seat, placing my backpack on the floor. Kent joined me, raising the privacy screen between the front and back seats.

"Oh god," I muttered, curling up in the seat. "Do you think we'll be in traffic for long?" Kent shook his head in response.

"We've been in Queens for a while. It'll probably take about 45 minutes," he said. I sighed and rested my head on the window. "What's wrong?"

"My stomach hurts, and I feel sick," I mumbled. "The Gravol helps just enough to prevent me from getting sick."

"Do you want something to eat?" Kent asked, and I declined.

"Nothing, I'll be okay," I mumbled, rolling down the window to get some air, despite the chill. "Seems like we're not great travelers, huh? I get carsick and I'm afraid of flying." Kent chuckled and shook his head.

"Let me know if you need to stop, and I'll tell the driver," he said, and I nodded. "Is this something that happens often?"

"Always, unfortunately," I asked, trying to find a comfortable position as my stomach tightened.

"Isn't morning sickness a thing?" Kent inquired, making me roll my eyes and wish I could hit him for asking.

"I'm not pregnant, Kent," I retorted with an eye roll. "Are you trying to make me throw up?"

"No, I was just curious," he mumbled, looking embarrassed. Men should know better than to ask women about their pain. When we're hurting, it means something is seriously wrong. "I apologize."

"I'd hope so," I shook my head and sighed.

We were stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, and by the time we reached the hotel, I was utterly exhausted. I still felt sick and needed to lie down for a while.

"Let's go. I'll handle the check-in," he says, opening the cab door. I nod, step out with my bag onto the street. Kent thanks the driver for our bags.

The hotel is amazing. The lobby feels like a whole hotel on its own. Kent takes me to the front desk, and I sign in. "Checking in, last name Chavez," he informs the busy woman at the counter.

"Yes, Mr. Chavez, your room is ready. Could I see a credit card and an ID, please?" She asks, and Kent hands them to her. "That's perfect. Jose will assist you with your bags upstairs," she smiles, and a bellhop immediately arrives to help us and lead us to the elevator.

"Good day, how are you?" I greet the bellhop with a smile.

"How are you?" I ask politely, surprising him with my question.

"I'm good, ma'am, thanks," he replies. I'm feeling a bit queasy and in need of a rest.

We reach our floor, and I step off after the bellhop, who guides us to our room. Kent unlocks the door with a key, and I'm left in awe. It's a suite with a small kitchenette, a living area, a spacious and beautiful bathroom, and a set of doors that likely lead to the bedroom.

"I hope everything suits you," the bellhop says, and I smile. It's a very nice room, though I never expected this level of luxury.

"Thank you," I say with a smile, and the bellhop departs after Kent gives him some cash.

"So?" Kent asks, looking nervous, and I blink.

"This is incredible," I grin. "It's almost too fancy, really."

"You said you wanted a quiet place for your interview. I thought you might sit at that desk by the window," he points to the desk. "Close the doors, and you'll find me in there."

"Perfect," I sigh. "Well, as perfect as a last-minute trip with your roommate can be."

"You'll see, it'll be great," he assures as he approaches the bedroom doors. He opens them, and both of our faces fall at the same time.

There's only one bed.

"What's happening?" Kent sounds confused as he asks. "Juls, this is wrong. I swear I didn't book a room with a king bed."

"And then what happened?" I inquire, feeling anxious. Kent appears to think for a moment, then sighs.

"My mother," he answers. "She probably saw it and thought it was a mistake since my parents' credit card is on file at the hotel."

"So... they'll find out if we change it," I mutter, realizing we're stuck.

"Yeah," he sighs, shakes his head, and looks a bit guilty. "It's okay. I'll sleep on the couch. I'll ask the front desk for extra pillows and a second blanket."

"No, that's not right," I whisper, shaking my head.

"It seems like the only option, unless you want to share a bed," he says, and I sigh in response.

"Let's figure it out later. I need some rest," I kick off my shoes, take off my coat, and flop onto the bed.

"Mmm, it feels nice," I murmur as I roll onto my side and curl up into a ball.

I hear him walk into the room, and when he arrives, he sits on the other side of the bed. "Do you need a break?"

"All I need is for my stomach to settle, and I'll be fine," I say, looking up at him.

"What's the first thing you want to do?" he asks.

"The Metropolitan Museum of Art," I whisper with a smile, and he chuckles.

"I should have known the resident history buff would want to hit a museum first," he laughs.

"It's an art place," I reply. "It's so cool you could spend hours there."

"Alright, you got it," he says, and we're on opposite sides of the bed. We can't touch even if we reach out, so maybe sharing a bed isn't such a bad thing after all.