McCarty dropped me off at the hotel before heading off to pack up his own apartment. It was a huge pain to be moving out the day before graduation, but Erica and I had decided it was silly to pay a whole extra month's rent for the privilege of staying in the apartment for two extra days.
When I'd emailed Edward to let him know he shouldn't bother paying the rent, he responded by reserving rooms at the nicest boutique hotel in town for the weekend. I'm pretty sure, by the looks of the place, that it might have been better to have paid my share of the month's rent since it probably would have been cheaper in the end.
As I opened the door to the suite, my irritation faded a little. It was beautiful. The living area was decorated in creams and blues and somehow managed to marry the best of classical design with the modern touches of the massive television and sound-system. The bedroom held an enormous bed with mounds of pillows. However, the best part was the bathroom. One look at the gigantic jetted tub with its assortment of bath salts and bubbles setting on a tray and I knew exactly how I'd be spending the hours between now and the final night on the town I had planned with my friends for tonight.
I took a few minutes to unpack my suitcase, then drew myself a bath. As the lightly scented water filled the tub, I undressed in front of the mirror and looked at myself with a critical eye.
I had a nice body, kept limber and strong with the genes of a werewolf and a lifetime of dance classes. My hair was long and had a natural loose curl that other women might want to take a straight-iron to, but that I loved for its no-fuss ease. My skin was clear and my eyes, though a non-descript brown, were large and bright. Judging by the number of guys who had tried to approach me over the years, I was plenty attractive to the opposite sex.
Yet standing here in front of this mirror, I knew, with painful certainty brought on by ample experience, that the only man I would ever be with wanted someone else.
I wish I could say the same.
