Free 1st Chance by Elizabeth Nelson

out where I was going so wrong.
     
    Setting a steady beat for myself with my boots against the asphalt, the walk took less time than I’d expected and I was back to the hotel much quicker than I’d thought I would be. I felt marginally better with the fresh air on my skin and the solitude of night, but I still ducked past the bar, just in case Mikey was in there and called me for a drink. Up in my room, I made my eyes take everything in—I didn’t want to keep taking it all for granted.
     
    As it turned out, the hotel was pretty old and underneath the clean surfaces were signs of wear. There was torn wallpaper behind the chair, flakes of peeling paint on some patches of the ceiling. The carpet was a faded, looped design in grey and red that made my vision go if I stared at it for too long. The bed was just a normal double, rather than the usual king, and there were only two slightly puckered satin cushions propped up near the pillows, as opposed to the standard twenty or so I’d normally have to chuck onto the floor.
     
    I liked it. It was more like the hotels we used to stay in on our first tour, when I’d been at peace with myself. I liked the disillusioned, seen-it-all interior more than the extravagant and the plushness of our normal stops, and I crept under the blankets fully dressed, wanting oblivion and finding it in sleep.
     
    ***
     
    The next few days passed in a blur, I heard no more from Anna, nor did I contact her. Not until Thursday morning, the day I’d been secretly counting down to. I had a radio interview just before lunch, so I let her know that I’d be with her by late afternoon. My message was matter-of-fact and so was her reply. This leaked further insecurity—I almost preferred the over-attentive jealousy that I got from women. The nonchalance made her hard to read, it made it hard for me to feel secure. I couldn’t tell how she really felt and it made me nervous.
     
    I’d booked a room ten minutes away from her apartment and told her to meet me there. I’d purposely chosen a hotel that was of a lower standard than usual. The rough edges of the room I’d stayed in before had made me feel comfortable, I didn’t want flashy or over the top. I just wanted a place to hang out with her. I couldn’t care less about thread count.
     
    She was already there when I opened the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed swinging her legs, she looked round and greeted me with a shy smile. Among the beige décor and the white linen, she shone like a rainbow on a grey day. It seemed awkward at first, I found it hard to smile in return, feeling a bit choked for some reason. She stood slowly as I crossed the room to her, dropping my bag on the floor. Not sure what else to do, and unable to make sense of how she was making me feel, I wrapped my arms around her.
     
    There, in that touch, it began to fall into place. The awkwardness vanished and all my attention and energy focused on one thing—her. She held me tightly, her frame tiny in my arms and it just felt right, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. We pulled apart slightly and I kissed her, her lips were soft and warm and met mine tenderly.
     
    Breaking off breathlessly, I had to pull away before the want for her became too much. I ran my thumb down the side of her face, our noses touching.
     
    “Hi,” I whispered.
     
    “Hi back,” she replied, moving her hands to rest on my shoulders. I wanted to start some witty conversation but nothing would come to me. The atmosphere was too loaded, and we ended up just drinking each other in without speaking. My breath started to quicken as I looked at her. I stroked every part of her face, running my fingertip along the curve of her nose and over her lips, which she parted slightly. Eventually, the urge became impossible and we started kissing again, panting hot breath into each other’s mouths as she tugged on my hair. I placed my hands on either side of her curvaceous hips and pulled her