I'm having entirely too much fun writing this! (It sure beats the alternative: grading!) I really hope you like this, too.
:)
11-
At the memory of what just happened moments ago, a little quiver of excitement runs through her. She knows she has a silly smile on her face, too. But she doesn't much care. She forces herself to focus, however, and goes back to looking over the menu, mentally choosing what to eat. But she decides to hold off actually ordering in case he returns sooner than later, as unrealistic as she knows that to be. She looks down at her free hand, still on top of the bed where he was sitting a short while ago. Then she looks around her, her eyes flitting over to the open closet. On the top shelf is his carry all and luggage. A spare navy blue blazer is hanging there, his garment bag right next to it; his shoes, below that. Across from her on the dresser is the champagne, the two wine glasses filled with bubbly drink, mostly untouched; the chocolates next to that, still unopened. And on the night table near the bed are a few bills and coins of his own money no longer needed here in the states. But it is his black sweater which he wore over his shirt this afternoon that holds her attention. It is neatly folded on the dresser and she studies it for a moment, thinking of their day together. Unconsciously, her hand touches her lips.
Mentally shaking herself, she pulls her gaze from his sweater, taking note of the small table next to his bed, mere feet away. On it is a leather binder. She crosses the few feet to it. Exactly the same in her room, she flips it open knowing what she will find: a pen tucked inside along with some rather fine stationery. She smiles. Closing her eyes, she sits quietly there for a minute or so. Then picking up the pen, she begins to write. And write. And write.
Harry hasn't a spare minute to call Ruth. And he wonders if the next time he shaves or looks in the mirror, he will actually recognize himself: he hasn't stopped smiling the entire evening. But he feels he has little choice both as a representative of the crown and as a guest of his hosts who do seem to show, or bare, Harry often thinks, their teeth. A lot. At least at this meeting. Probably, he thinks, due to the enormous amount of money and time they must spend in order to have such perfectly aligned and artificial looking teeth. He thinks back to Jeremy, his bellboy from the other night and reckons that the young man well on his way to a lustrous career; his perfect teeth a prime qualification for success in their former colony, it seems. So Harry smiles and makes small talk too. But between smiling and schmoozing, there's little opportunity to call Ruth. He does manage to leave a text, but she doesn't respond. He's not worried, though; he merely assumes that she's eating in the Oak room and simply left her mobile in her room. Good for her. His mouth curves into a smile when he thinks of their kiss. Or almost kiss. When the room erupts into applause, it is an unwelcome slap back to reality.
He claps along with the rest of them and fixes his perfectly serviceable if not perfect teeth into yet another vapid smile. His eyes now on the speaker, who stands in front of the conference table, Harry wonders when they will stop talking. And smiling. Always smiling.
"And now our esteemed…." The voices drone on. Someone catches his eye from across the table. The other person bares his teeth. Harry shows his.
When he finally returns, it is well after midnight. He enters the room quietly. And stops dead still. She is sitting at the small table, her head resting on her arms. And from the look of it, sound asleep.
He draws near. Nearer still. "Ruth," he says ever so softly, his hand lightly touching her shoulder. "Ruth."
"Hmmm?" She looks up at him, a glazed look on her face.
"It's time to go to bed." He whispers. "You've fallen asleep. Here."
She stares at him, eyes still unfocused. Clears her throat. "Yeah. Yes….who...?"
"Just go to bed." We'll talk tomorrow." He helps her up, as gently as he speaks. She stumbles a bit towards his bed, "No, not here," he says, holding her a bit tighter, Yawning, she blindly continues on towards his bed despite his best efforts to steer her in the other direction. With only a step away from his bed, he is now left with little choice; there's no room to actually maneuver her especially when she seems intent on sleeping right there. In his bed. Whilst he ponders just what to do, she manages to elude his hold and flops onto his bed. She yawns again. Immediately her eyes seal shut.
He stands looking down at her. "Um. Ruth? Ruth?"
She curls up and mumbles something that sounds like "Night. Harry." In seconds, she is sound asleep again. He stands there for a long moment, nonplussed. Then he smiles, the first genuine smile of the evening since leaving their hotel room hours ago. Grabbing hold of the cover around her, he tucks her in. She burrows into like a feral creature of the night, but other than that, doesn't stir. Reaching over for the light, he shuts the lamp off, plunging the room into near darkness. He stands there looking down at her for a few more seconds more before he turns away. Carefully, he tiptoes out of his room and heads towards hers. But he stops when he reaches the threshold. In the gloom, he can just make out her bed. Turning his head back at her, he can see now that his eyes have adjusted a bit, that she is still huddled under the covers. He steps completely into her room and closes the door but not all the way. Going over to her bed, he shucks his clothes, tossing them on her bed. He gets in quickly. Immediately, he is surrounded by her scent. He closes his eyes and in minutes, he is sound asleep.
Unnoticed by either, the door creaks open.
She awakens first, the early morning light peeking through the crack in the thick curtains. She opens her eyes more. Then even wider. Immediately, she jerks her head down to the other side of the bed. Then she turns her head, scanning the room. She looks towards his bathroom as well. Quiet. Empty. No light peeking through. The sound registers then. She turns her head in the semi-light towards the open doorway. Finally, she gets up, his gentle snoring leading the way.