Secret Admirer

WORD COUNT: 2,042



I was thankful for the cracks of thunder as I perched behind the counter of the desolate hotel lobby, waiting for him to arrive and cover the midnight shift.



        The simple thought of his presence getting nearer with each passing second caused a bubble of excitement to fill my insides. My childish giggle filled the silence.



        I quickly slid down from my stool and turned to the full length mirror behind me.



        I smiled back at my rounded figure while I adjusted my short blond hair, making sure that every strand was in its right place. I twirled, searching for imperfections (imperfections that didn’t include the cellulite of my massive, pale legs, or the sporadic acne swelling my spotted face.) I pouted my lips, applying a fresh coat of my favorite shade of cherry lipstick. I smacked my lips before pulling them back, making sure my thick coats of the lipstick didn’t leave a stain on my crooked teeth. My hand found my chin and I wiggled the loose fat below it’s crease, proud of my diversity.



        Rob liked unique, he welcomed change.



        My overly voluptuous build would most definitely be a new change to that of his…of her.



        I shuddered into the mirror at that notion, now toying with the rim of my massive skeptical glasses.



          The thought of her monotony made my stomach churn. Her long brown hair; her petite curves; her tedious sense of style; her laugh. They all gave me another reason to hate her with every fiber of my being.



        But it was okay. She hated me as much as I hated her.



        She had always been intimidated by the connection that Rob and I shared. I saw her unease daily. It was in every goodbye kiss, every late night phone call they had.



        I could sense that she knew, and I liked it that way. I made it my first priority to make her feel threatened.



        Rob and I were meant to be; and we would be together eventually.



        Butterflies fluttered inside of me when I heard a loud buzz, the buzz signaling the opening of the ‘employee entrance only’ door.



        My love strode in and behind the counter with all the poise in the world. My heart beat harder for him with every step he took. He nodded and smirked in my direction, trying to appear detached



        I knew better.



        He didn’t need words to show me how much he cared. For all the years I have loved him, I never needed him to express his emotion in words. The love was beneath every smirk and every wave. We could go weeks without exchanging words, yet at the same time, exchanging passionate declarations of our commitment.



        I felt it with every accidental bump of his shoulder. It radiated through me every time we would brush fingers by accident, every time he would ask for a cup of coffee.



        We practically made love the time I "accidentally" locked us in the sauna. I have never been alone with a man that long in all my life. I never felt so scandalous.



        His gruff tone broke my train of thought.



        My baby had had a bad day.



      "I got it from here, Michelle. Thanks." He said, throwing his bag in the employee closet and sitting behind the counter, in my previous seat. I marveled, translating his statement’s secret message: "Thanks for staying long enough so that I could see you before you left baby."



        "Anytime," I purred, knowing he could trace the adoration in my voice.



        “Oh!” He rotated the stool so that he was facing me, eyes ablaze with our love. His enthusiasm sent a fire through my veins. I smiled widely, waiting. “Could you restock towels in the pool area for me before you go?”



        Translation: “Sweetheart. I really don’t want you to leave yet. Do you think you could just find an excuse to stay longer? I'm sure the boss won’t mind if you do busy work or something. How about restocking the towels in the pool area? Please babe, don’t go yet.”



        “Of course, I’ll stay as long as I have too.” I replied.



        “Its okay, just do that and you can go home. I’ve got it.”



        Translation: “I wouldn’t want you to stay here just for me. I would feel much better knowing that you were home, safe in bed.”



        It amazed me to this day, after so many years, how I still had the ability to articulate his words perfectly. I always knew what was on his mind, even if he didn’t tell me. We were so perfect, a match made in heaven.



        “Alright, but I think I will hang around a little while longer, I'm too tired to drive.”



        “Whatever,” he answered, swiveling his stool around to face the lobby.



        Translation: “I would rather you rest at home, but I wouldn’t want you to drive around tired. Do whatever is safer; I can’t have you getting hurt.”



        I made my way through the pool area, the crisp smell of the chlorine floating around me, the electricity of love pumping the marrow in my bones.



I marched back to the employee closet, a spring in my step and a smile on my face.



I opened the door slowly, wincing at every creak of the worn hinges, not wanting the beautiful man sitting in front of me to know what I was doing.



He would insist on driving me home, but I wasn’t ready to be away from him yet.



        I settled myself in the dim black abyss of the closet, shutting the door just enough so that the front desk was still visible, a slice of light shone through the shadows from where I sat. It was an awfully tight fit, but so worth it to be able to stare at him for hours upon hours without being questioned.



        I gazed while he read the paper, as he did every night on shift. Closing my eyes, I listened to his bored hum, pressing my ear to the door. I harmonized with him in my head, worshiping our synchronization. My love got up to get his coffee and I giggled to myself; two cream, no sugar.



            He sat back in his assigned seat, a steaming mug in one hand, the paper in the other.



        Hours passed like seconds while I studied his every move.



        I was in heaven. Until now.



        The slide of the automatic door echoed through the empty lobby. Probably a drunken couple looking for a place to crash; so many of those passed through here during late, quiet hours like these.



        My love gasped the most heinous word ever coined, the sound cause my neck to twitch.



        I was instantly alert. What was she doing here?



            She made her way around my counter, and snaked her arms around my man’s neck.



        I wanted nothing more than to crush her skull.



        “I feel horrible about earlier. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal over nothing. I’m so sorry.”



        He bent his head to tangle his lips with hers.



        Time slowed down while I starred at their lips dance, my eyes irate.



        I felt the hot sting of my own vomit, coming up to itch the back of my throat. I gulped it down before the sound of my heaving gave me away. Disgusting.



        “I'm sorry too. I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.” He whispered in her ear, planting a kiss on her vile cheek. “I hate fighting with you.”



        “Me too,” she murmured, her face buried in the miracle of his chest.



        I had to blink away my tears, now streaming hot down my face.



        He lifted her head with his hand, kissing her again. I almost de-hinged the door.



        “You can’t stay though. I’ve got turn downs to do.” That fanned the heat of my jealousy, but not nearly enough.



        “I know. I just wanted to say sorry in person.” They kissed again, a kiss goodbye, thankfully.



        “I love you,” He called, right before she walked out the door.



        I seethed in the dark, boiling waters of resentment.



        “I love you more.” She called back, giggling her way out to the parking lot, trailing the fires of hell behind her.



        I sank to the back of the closet, hand over my mouth, muffling my sobs.



        Hearing the ding of the elevator, he was gone. Turn downs, I assumed.







            I closed my eyes; the colors were motionless behind closed lids, deep shades of black fading to navy blues and lighter grays while time stood stationary.



        I whispered to myself.



        "This day's black fate on more days doth depend: This but begins the woe others must end."



        My quivering body burst from the closet in frustration.



        The fury ached for a physical outlet. I was unable to contain it any longer. My foot shattered the mirror, noise muted to me. The only thing I was able to focus on was him, and his betrayal.



        Blasphemy.



        I starred at the broken woman in the mirror, those brutal eyes, those quaking hands.



        She would get her answers. It would take a guillotine to stop her.



        I grasped a broken piece of the mirror, the sharpest piece I could find, and fumed my way up to my loves first turn down room. I knew his schedule like the back of my hand.



        The door was open.





        I glided into the room, but didn’t get his attention until I slammed the door closed behind me; the force knocked a picture off the wall.



        Perfect entrance, I thought to myself, clutching the broken glass in my hand. Blood dripped to the carpet.



        He looked from my hand to my eyes, scorching though his with insanity.



        A trembling silence filled the air.



        “I won’t tolerate liars, Robert. I don’t appreciate what I just saw.” My voice was calm. I walked toward him, until the back of his knees hit the bed.



        He opened his mouth to reply. No.



            My voice reached volumes I never thought were possible when my wild screech swallowed the atmosphere around us.



          My body was a slave to the rage, it shook with every thought I had.         



        He fell back on the bed, rolled to the other side, and crept back against the corner of the wall, palms up, as if to calm me down.



        I walked until my heated body was pressed against his.         



        Despite my anger, the intimacy excited me.



        His eyes were wide, bloodshot, matching mine.



        “You. Broke. My. Heart.” I spat through the tears, raising the blade to my throat, pushing aside the fat and drawing tiny drops of blood. The sting was exhilarating, comforting.



        It was obvious that he was confused.



        That infuriated me even more.



        “And now,” I cried, the tears beginning to take me over, “I'm going to break yours.”



        He cried out as I stabbed the glass through his heart with all of the brute rage in my system. The pressure was tremendous, I felt the blade sink through every layer of his magnificence; blood replacing whatever was once there.



        I gazed upon those eyes of his. Eyes that kept me awake at night. Eyes that sent an unknown surge through my innards.



        “I,” My voice squeaked.



          Crying, I took the glass out of pulsing muscle, and stabbed it into the other side of his chest, flesh ripping beneath my strength.



        “Love,”



        Blood soaked through every surface around us; I loved the feeling of his own scarlet warmth, saturating my tingling skin.



        “You,”



        I sliced through his neck as he fell limp in my arms, his eyes still open wide.



        My smile was gleaming through blissful tears.



        I turned and sat him on the bed, unable to take my eyes off of his perfection. His body wilted against the white sheets.



        “So beautiful.”



        I lay next to him, wrapping my arms around his a gushing neck. 



        “Oh, my love. Death, that hath sucked thy honey of thy breath. Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.”



        I placed his arms around my waist before jerking the glass out of his neck, and slowly, gracefully, slicing through the veins in my own wrists, knowing it’s what he would have wanted for us.



            This was for us.



        I cuddled to my love, preparing to face our eternity.



        Together, forever.



        Never was there a story of more woe, than this of Juliet, and her Romeo.