He had a deluxe suite. A kitchen, a couch, and a king size bed. It
was really nice, especially for the particular hotel. I let my eyes wander,
scanning the new surroundings. Several bottles lay open and empty on the
floor. A few items of clothing were strewn about. I didn't mind, in fact it
reminded me of the sorority. He cleaned the couch off, removing the
offending clothes and garbage.
"There's a spot." Quickly he closed the blinds. I took my place as he continued to tidy. "Would you like some coffee?" I shook my head.
"I've had too much." I searched for my pack. "Is this a smoking room?" He nodded and I lit up again eagerly. I relaxed. The haze from the cigarette masked my face. He began to mutter to himself again. It disturbed me. Half whispers of things I couldn't make out. "So." I puffed out. "What's your name?" This seemed to draw him out.
"Umm. . . . Uh. . . "He looked around nervously and found nothing but smoke. He took a deep breath in. "William," He paused and muttered to him self, it seemed to me that he was upset over calling himself by his name. "My friends call me Spike." I crushed my cigarette and waved the air.
"Spike." I said tenderly. I shocked me, as well as him. I turned and stared at the ash tray. Silence passed.
"What's your name?" He asked timidly. I never assumed him to be timid. His stance upon meeting was confident, but now, timidity had snuck into his demeanor. He seemed childlike, and extremely unaware of his surroundings. I met his eyes and became lost in thought.
"My name...... is...... " I paused memorized by his eyes. ".... is Eliza." I continued to stare. The air began to feel tangible, as if something was building in the room. The feeling was almost smothering.
"Eliza." He said slightly bitter. It wasn't directed at me, he seemed to me talking to his hands, or simply a memory. "It's a very pretty name." He addressed me. He promptly cleared a space for himself on the couch. next to me. "So, your relaxing vacation isn't so relaxing, is it luv?" I paused. I noticed that my body was rigid, and my back distanced from the couch. I laughed at my own actions.
"We've been in just a few hours, but I haven't had a chance. . . ." I stopped, realizing that I was making stupid excuses for something-- something I didn't want to admit hurt so deep inside. Spike tended to his mug of coffee.
"Doesn't seem like you want to. Relaxing is something you have to WANT to do." Spike leaned back as if to demonstrate his relaxed attitude. I smiled.
"It was my friend's idea. I'm more of a study till my eyes pop out girl." I nodded absent-mindedly. I realized that I had been playing with my jacket for the last few minutes. All I wanted at this point in time was to study, somewhere safe, amid a huge pile of books. Spike shook his head, as if he knew my thoughts.
"This is the City of Angels, love! You have to have some fun." Spike stood, and turned on his clock radio. It had been pre-set to a punk station. It began to blare No Doubt's 'Underneath it All.' I was a little self conscious and only nodded to the beat. "That won't do." Spike held out his hands. "Let's Dance." I shook my head wildly. He rolled his eyes, and grabbed my hands in an attempt to pull me up. I continued to object, but all it took was contact, and a soft 'no' to get him to become flustered. I had seen him like this before, when he was walking up the steps. He looked as if he was confused, even in a daze, for no reason at all. He excused himself and left the room momentarily. I couldn't help but let the beat of the music take me away as I began to dance and sing along.
"You've used up all your coupons And all you've got left is me And somehow I'm full of forgiveness I guess it's meant to be" I swayed to the music. Two arms went around my waist, and I became aware of Spike's presence.
" I thought you couldn't dance, ducks!" He spun me around and crushed his body to mine. My black hair fell from its tightly held bun. Hesitantly his hand rose and brushed my hair back. "Your eyes. . ." his head tilted to the side. "are very sad. Some one you loved hurt you." I stood still, any magic in the moment was gone. My memories of home, of school, rushed back with ferocity. What I was doing here in Los Angeles was hiding from the pain, the rejection-- from him. I choked back a sob and looked at the complete honesty and trust reflected in Spike's eyes. The shone as if he had experienced it all; the pain, the hurt, the death, and the glory, and lived an innocent life, like he still didn't know what it all meant.
"There's a spot." Quickly he closed the blinds. I took my place as he continued to tidy. "Would you like some coffee?" I shook my head.
"I've had too much." I searched for my pack. "Is this a smoking room?" He nodded and I lit up again eagerly. I relaxed. The haze from the cigarette masked my face. He began to mutter to himself again. It disturbed me. Half whispers of things I couldn't make out. "So." I puffed out. "What's your name?" This seemed to draw him out.
"Umm. . . . Uh. . . "He looked around nervously and found nothing but smoke. He took a deep breath in. "William," He paused and muttered to him self, it seemed to me that he was upset over calling himself by his name. "My friends call me Spike." I crushed my cigarette and waved the air.
"Spike." I said tenderly. I shocked me, as well as him. I turned and stared at the ash tray. Silence passed.
"What's your name?" He asked timidly. I never assumed him to be timid. His stance upon meeting was confident, but now, timidity had snuck into his demeanor. He seemed childlike, and extremely unaware of his surroundings. I met his eyes and became lost in thought.
"My name...... is...... " I paused memorized by his eyes. ".... is Eliza." I continued to stare. The air began to feel tangible, as if something was building in the room. The feeling was almost smothering.
"Eliza." He said slightly bitter. It wasn't directed at me, he seemed to me talking to his hands, or simply a memory. "It's a very pretty name." He addressed me. He promptly cleared a space for himself on the couch. next to me. "So, your relaxing vacation isn't so relaxing, is it luv?" I paused. I noticed that my body was rigid, and my back distanced from the couch. I laughed at my own actions.
"We've been in just a few hours, but I haven't had a chance. . . ." I stopped, realizing that I was making stupid excuses for something-- something I didn't want to admit hurt so deep inside. Spike tended to his mug of coffee.
"Doesn't seem like you want to. Relaxing is something you have to WANT to do." Spike leaned back as if to demonstrate his relaxed attitude. I smiled.
"It was my friend's idea. I'm more of a study till my eyes pop out girl." I nodded absent-mindedly. I realized that I had been playing with my jacket for the last few minutes. All I wanted at this point in time was to study, somewhere safe, amid a huge pile of books. Spike shook his head, as if he knew my thoughts.
"This is the City of Angels, love! You have to have some fun." Spike stood, and turned on his clock radio. It had been pre-set to a punk station. It began to blare No Doubt's 'Underneath it All.' I was a little self conscious and only nodded to the beat. "That won't do." Spike held out his hands. "Let's Dance." I shook my head wildly. He rolled his eyes, and grabbed my hands in an attempt to pull me up. I continued to object, but all it took was contact, and a soft 'no' to get him to become flustered. I had seen him like this before, when he was walking up the steps. He looked as if he was confused, even in a daze, for no reason at all. He excused himself and left the room momentarily. I couldn't help but let the beat of the music take me away as I began to dance and sing along.
"You've used up all your coupons And all you've got left is me And somehow I'm full of forgiveness I guess it's meant to be" I swayed to the music. Two arms went around my waist, and I became aware of Spike's presence.
" I thought you couldn't dance, ducks!" He spun me around and crushed his body to mine. My black hair fell from its tightly held bun. Hesitantly his hand rose and brushed my hair back. "Your eyes. . ." his head tilted to the side. "are very sad. Some one you loved hurt you." I stood still, any magic in the moment was gone. My memories of home, of school, rushed back with ferocity. What I was doing here in Los Angeles was hiding from the pain, the rejection-- from him. I choked back a sob and looked at the complete honesty and trust reflected in Spike's eyes. The shone as if he had experienced it all; the pain, the hurt, the death, and the glory, and lived an innocent life, like he still didn't know what it all meant.
