A Second At Love (Derek Hale)

Chapter 11: Hotel California

Skylar POV:

"I've seen worse." Scott tried to sympathize. We were standing outside of a shabby hotel that honestly gave me the creeps--that should say something about it.

"Where have you seen worse?" Stiles exclaimed.

"Pay by the hour hotels." I summarized.

"Listen up! The meet's been pushed 'til tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves! You'll be pairing up--choose wisely. And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants! Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!" Coach called. "Stone! I want you to make sure that no one has sex!"

"Yes sir." I called, totally going to do that. Note the sarcasm. Frankly, I didn't care if they had sex or even if it was safe or not. If they wanted to have a kid, let them have a fucking kid.

"Lydia...?" Allison asked as the two of us started towards our room and Lydia didn't.

"I don't like this place." Lydia informed.

"I don't think the people who own this place like this place." Allison chuckled.

"It's just for a night." I reassured, full well knowing that Lydia's next statement was true.

"A lot can happen in one night..." Lydia trailed off, finally following us. After placing my duffle bag onto a table, I left the room and went to the nearby vending machine, only discover that the glass was broken. Shrugging, I grabbed everything I wanted and also the money that had collected since it was emptied last. Going back into our room, I began counting out the coins.

"Did you go rob the office?" Allison asked.

"Nope, I took the money from the vending machine." I hummed.

"I don't even want to know why." Allison shook her head, laying out on the bed. "Whose bunking with who?"

"I'll bunk with Sky!" Lydia said quickly, making Allison and I raise an eyebrow at her. "I'm used to sharing a bed with someone." Allison looked at me and I shrugged, not really caring. Not soon later, Allison got in the shower and I accompanied Lydia to the front desk. The redhead (or strawberry blonde, whatever one you want to use) was jumpy and stuck close to me, seeming to be more at ease near my presence.

"Excuse me." Lydia sighed. "The card on the dresser says that we have a no-smoking room, but somehow, all of our towels reek of Nicotine."

"Sorry about that, sweetheart." The lady stated. Catching sight of the medical equipment on her neck, I raised my eyebrows and pursed my lips, fiddling with a knife.

"What's that?" Lydia asked, nodding to the number '198' on the wall. "...that number."

"It's kind of an inside thing for the motel." The lady informed. "My husband insists on keeping it up."

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked, ignoring my pleading look for us to just leave.

"It's a little bit morbid, to be honest." The lady shrugged.

"Believe me lady, it's nothing compared to what we've been through." I sighed. "Just satisfy the girl's curiosity so we can leave and I can get some sleep."

"We're not going to make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction." The lady answered, fixing me with her stare. "But we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other hotel in California we've had more guest suicides." While I hummed in acknowledgment, the lady was unsatisfied with my reaction and turned to sickly smile at Lydia.