(A/N: Hey guys, I haven't read any Meg Cabot books lately, so I apologise if I don't get her style right, or if some of the events don't exactly fit, I just wanted to give this a go, because I -love-love-love- Cooper/Heather! Hope you enjoy... please review and let me know how I can improve… Also, this might get M rated later on, so be careful LOL… Thanks, Charlotte xo)
As Cooper and I arrive at The Beverly Hilton, the sun gets completely covered by rain clouds that had begun to form about an hour ago. They now began coating us in fresh smelling rain water, not unusual for a nearing-winter, autumn evening in New York City, however in Los Angeles, where Cooper is currently working on a case—he still won't tell me what is going on, but at least he didn't drag my dad along too, that'll give us chance to at least, uh, christen the bed—it's rather strange weather.
Apparently there's this big storm on its way… I was totally hyper-ventilating on the like, three-thousand hour plane ride over. It took so long, I was so tempted to drag Cooper into the bathroom and join the Mile High Club as platinum members. However, when I mentioned this in a hushed tone, he told me that he'd love to, but we were minutes away from landing and that I should buckle my seatbelt. How unromantic is that? I offer him carnal knowledge—for about the thousandth time that week, admittedly—of my body, and he tells me to 'buckle my seatbelt'? It's sweet that he worries about my safety and everything, but come on. He knows that I can take care of myself… although he has saved me from crazy bosses, crazy frat boys, and well... just about crazy everything… myself included.
On the way to the hotel, the taxi we had taken from the airport decided to break down. It's so my luck really. You know, that a taxi I get into has to break down. When this happened, I warned Cooper to not separate from me, because I've seen too many 'The Hills have Eyes' movies to know better. There could be nuclear bombing victims that want to hack us to death and eat our bloody remains… They ate them, right? Maybe that was 'Wrong Turn'. Maybe I've been watching too many horror movies with the dorm's—sorry, residence hall's—students on my lunch breaks. Maybe I've just got too much spare time.
Cooper just smirked and told me I was being really paranoid and unrealistic, because we were in a very populated street and he highly doubted that any one other than the mountain lions wanted to hack me to death and eat my bloody remains. I didn't say anything, but with my past, and the likelihood of any one getting into those types of situations, it was definitely me that would come face-to-face with that sort of thing. I mean, come on, I work as the Assistant Dorm Director at Death Dorm for crying out loud. Even though I love my job, I know that one day I'm likely to meet a bloody and painful end. I was jinxed from the start.
We enter the main lobby—which takes my breath away for a few seconds because of how beautiful and big it is… apparently there's a pool outside and a gym upstairs, but the odds of me letting any one see me in a bathing suit or in gym clothes are extremely low—and we split up; me looking around for a gift shop to buy a couple of candy bars at—I am starving… I haven't eaten since before the flight, because I read somewhere that flight food contains loads of microbes, and I'd rather not die of food poisoning… seriously, I've been in the middle of a lot of life-threatening situations, how awkward would it be if I died just because I ate bad food?—and Cooper striding confidently—and extremely hotly, might I add; I made him wear his Levis that are faded and tight in all the right places—toward the check in desk. I watch him walk, a small smile gripping my face. He waits patiently for the flustered-looking concierge's help. I take in the fact that he is actually my boyfriend, and that he loves me, me, Heather Wells, residence hall worker, part-time unofficial Private Eye, full-time official trouble magnet, before turning to grab a few Booster bars and tuna sandwiches off the shelf and walking toward the cashier.
"Someone's in a good mood," the cashier comments, with a crooked smile, in an extremely thick New Zealand accent. Even though my boyfriend is standing less than twenty feet away, I melt into a puddle on the floor.
"Yes," I reply, a little flustered, "I finally got the man of my dreams." I nod toward the dark-haired God that is leaning forward onto the check in counter.
The cute cashier guy turns his own brown-blond head and looks in the direction I'd nodded to. "Well, I'm not into guys, so I can't really comment on that, but he seems really great. But he sure must be a lucky guy to have a beauty like you on his arm."
I don't whether it's the words or the accent in which the words are said, but I blush all the way up to the hairline. "No, I'm the one who is lucky," I stammer, ducking my head down into my purse, pretending to be looking for my wallet, but really trying to hide the blush from him.
"That's six dollars forty-nine cents please," he informs me, and I hand him the correct change. He indicates a little badge on his chest and says, "I'm Jayden Dryden, in case you didn't notice." I hadn't.
"Nice to meet you, Jayden, I'm Heather Wells," I reply, smiling brightly up at him, now that my blush has cooled. He puts my things in a plastic bag emblazoned with 'The Beverly Hilton' on the front and hands it to me. "Thank you," I say, taking the bag and nodding in appreciation. "Well Jayden, my boyfriend and I are staying here for a few days, so see you round maybe." He pulls his phone out of his pocket and begins tapping at the screen rather violently.
I walk away toward Cooper, bag in hand, and I hear the words, "I hope so, Heather, I hope so," follow me across the lobby.