parte trois.
I go to the bathroom to get ready. I absentmindedly close the door; after peeking out again a few minutes later I see that he's getting dressed. I fight the urge to run over to him. Closing the door, I start to work on my boring brown hair.
After ten minutes of yanking and untangling with the flat iron I spent fifty bucks on, I'm finally ready. I saunter back into our room, getting ready to say something witty until I realize he's not in here. Thinking that he's in the lobby downstairs, I walk out and into the elevator. An instrumental Melissa Ethridge song is playing. Elevator music always irks me.
When the elevator door opens, I see a huge crowd of people, all talking amongst themselves with their backs turned to me. Some of the girls are in maroon cheerleader skirts with ripped white stockings underneath; most of the guys are wearing the ugliest red jerseys I've ever seen with putrid barf-color shorts. I see Dom in the crowd and I run over there to surprise him. I slap his ass playfully. Then I realize--
It's not Dom.
xx
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