Free Markings by S. B. Roozenboom

happened.
    We wheeled our suitcases into the lobby, which smelled lightly of spearmint. With its high ceilings, the walls had plenty of space to host portraits of the mountains and wildlife. The remains of a fire burned in a fancy, brick fireplace near the room’s center. A chandelier of elk horns hung from the ceiling. Jamie pointed out the earthy-colored furniture.
    We checked in and got our room key. After dumping our cargo in Room 185, we went searching for the buffet hall. Hours in the car had left us starving, and we piled our plates with meats and freshly steamed veggies, breads and mashed potatoes. When we couldn’t fit any more on, we trotted into the maze of round tables and folding chairs, choosing a spot by the windows.
    The table fell silent as we ate, a sign the food was good. I chewed happily on a bite of perfectly seared steak. Jamie’s and Kat’s plates had sweet rolls, corn on the cob, and a chicken with vegetable medley. I looked at mine: one sweet roll, a few slices of meatloaf, a small steak, and a turkey drumstick.
    I furrowed my brows. Do I usually eat this much meat ? I thought about it for a second, trying to remember what I’d eaten the last few days. Hmm . Apparently I was protein-deprived. I glanced at the buffet, wondering if I should go get some vegetables, when another guest caught my eye.
    Sitting near the middle of the room, maybe four or five tables over, a young man sat with his friends. His arms, long and curving with muscle, leaned casually on the tablecloth. Black, gelled spikes covered his head, eyes dusty brown. He looked at me, and the fur on my shoulders stood up. His lips pulled into a tiny smile. Finally dropping his eyes, his focus returned to his table mates—two guys, and a girl with a Yorkshire terrier in her lap.
    There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about him or his group’s appearance or the way they chewed their food or sat in their chairs . . . so why did they give me such a bad feeling? I decided not to make another trip to the buffet.
    “Lina? Hellooo?”
    I startled as Kat waved her fingers in front of my face. “Oh. Sorry. What’s up?”
    She traced where my gaze had gone, tilting on her chair. Her green eyes grew round. “Woo hoo.” She whistled. “No wonder you’re staring. He is smoking .”
    “Who is?” Jami cocked her head.
    I smacked a hand over my face. “Ugh, come on, guys! Don’t look! What if he—” They snapped their heads back to the table before I could finish. “What is it?”
    “Shh!” Kat hushed me. “He’s looking!”
    I rolled my eyes, biting into my drumstick. “Fantastic. No more gawking, understand? We’re gaining unwanted attention.”
    Kat smirked then sat up straighter, chest sticking out. It didn’t help that she’d shed the sweater and had a very clingy tank underneath. She might as well have stamped I’m single on her forehead. I was relieved when we stood up to leave the dining hall. It was tempting to glance at the Watcher again, but I didn’t.
    We stepped into the corridor when I realized my phone was missing. “Oh, shoot!” I checked the pockets of my fleecy.
    Kat turned around, standing by a decorative totem pole. “What’s wrong, Lina?”
    “I left my phone on the table.”
    “Well, run, run! Go get it,” Jamie called, almost at the elevator.
    I jogged across the ugly tan carpet of the buffet hall. Keeping my eyes low, I only looked up when I was in seeing-distance of our table. My phone was gone. I checked under the chairs, on the floor. Maybe it had fallen off and I just hadn’t noticed. On hands and knees, I crawled halfway under the table when I heard footsteps approaching.
    Leather boots appeared, standing inches away. Oh, crap . Slowly, I crawled out. My eyes followed the boots up the legs of his jeans, across the grey shirt, until I was looking at his face.
    Watcher smiled down at me. He was taller than I’d estimated, with the kind of strong face you’d find on television or in