Grounded
Sienna
The sounds of people groaning, complaining, nudging past others and arguments were the only sounds I had to listen to.
Just as I thought I was going to spend the next two weeks in Bali, my hopes of becoming successful in my photography career were slipping through my fingers, one teeny tiny second at a time.
A loud beep gained everyone’s attention as a crackly voice sounded out from the alert speakers, the room falling silent almost immediately.
“All passengers, please accept our apologies, but due to the storm, we are unable to be airborne until further notice. Your captain has been diverted to a nearby island, less than half of our original journey destination. Accommodation will be made available to all passengers within the 3 nearest hotels. Please stand by and await further instructions.”
Great.Just. Fucking. Great.
The grumbles continue as people push past others, trying to squeeze 5 bodies out the plane exits at a time because apparently, patience doesn’t exist in a time like this.
Ain’t like there’s many places to go, is there? Maybe that’s just my understanding and everyone else was deluded as someone using a cardboard box to sail over the Atlantic ocean.
As realisation kicks in, I notice I had forgotten my luggage on the plane, so I climb back through the sea of people emerging from the plane doors in search for my bag before waiting at the back of the plane outside for the pilot and co-pilot to dis-board every luggage piece the plane was carrying.
“Do you need any help?” A deep voice grumbled behind me, and as I turned, my eyes land on an extremely tall, handsome, dark and mysterious man.
If it wasn’t raining, I would sure hope there was an easier way to hide the puddle building between my thighs.
Holy mother of fuck, he’s hot.
“Y-yes please.” Oh god, I sound pathetic. But if pathetic is what he wanted me to be-Damn, snap out of it Sienna!
The stranger managed to push his very large broad shoulders through the last of the passengers rushing off the plane and found my seat after checking my ticket, retrieving my bag from the storage compartment.
His t-shirt strained as he stretched his arms upwards, and my eyes couldn’t help but fall to his waist, where his v-lines showcased beautifully for my viewing pleasure.
“Even at a time like this, your eyes are still wandering, Peaches.” My mind never caught up until the last word fell out of his mouth, as mine fell wide as a river, snapping me back into reality.
“I, uh- thank you.” I clear my throat, taking my bag from his hands and quickly hurrying off the plane, the embarrassment quickly heating up on my cheeks.
“If everyone can follow in a single file line to where my fellow colleague is walking, we can direct and assist you to the local hotels. Staff have been notified of our arrival numbers and are currently making arrangements to provide you with accommodation.”
Hurrying into line, I drag my bag behind me, taking in my surroundings. Although the distraction of feeling a pair of eyes burning into the back of my skull was giving my stomach an unwavering feeling.
About 30 steps later, we were guided to a small hotel inn, no more than 60 rooms provided by the looks of the size, but suitable nonetheless. It wasn’t horrible... it just wasn’t the beautiful hotel I was hoping to see in Bali.
Families aboard were prioritised first-hand, the biggest of which being a party of 8 people, which meant split rooms. My nerves were beginning to shatter at the thought of having to share a room with a complete stranger, but there wasn’t much room for any different options.
As more people received a key card to their rooms, and the line got shorter and shorter, I became more hopeful on the matter of not having to have the first awkward conversation with someone I didn’t know... that was until I was one of four people left in the long ass cue.
After overhearing the couple in front of us explaining it was their honeymoon and couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to share a room with her husband, the woman passes them what looked like a silver passkey, allowing the happy couple to stride off happily in their sickenly disgusting love bubble.
The innkeeper’s smile never wavered. “I’m afraid we’re completely full.”
Sienna stared at her, waiting for the punchline.
“There has to be another room.”
“There isn’t.”
“Another inn?”
“Not on the island.”
The answer landed with the finality of a slammed door.
Outside, the sea battered the cliffs beneath the village, the evening wind rattling the old windowpanes. The storm that had rolled in that afternoon had swallowed every ferry route back to the mainland. They were stranded until morning.
And apparently, so was every tourist unfortunate enough to be visiting this forgotten patch of rock.
Sienna pinched the bridge of her nose.
Perfect.
Across the reception desk, Ronan remained infuriatingly calm.
“One room is fine.”
Her head snapped toward him.
“No, it isn’t.”
The innkeeper’s expression suggested she had already dealt with at least six similar arguments today.
“It’s a double room,” she offered. “Very spacious.”
“That’s not helping,” Sienna muttered.
Ronan shifted the duffel bag hanging from one shoulder.
“We don’t have much choice.”
She hated when he was reasonable.
Especially because he knew it.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Sienna exhaled sharply.
“Fine.”
The word tasted like defeat.
The innkeeper brightened immediately and handed over a brass key attached to a wooden tag.
“Top floor.”
Of course it was.
The staircase groaned beneath their weight as they climbed.
The inn looked charming from the outside. Inside, it felt old enough to collapse under a particularly aggressive sneeze.
The narrow stairwell forced them into uncomfortable proximity.
Ronan climbed a step behind her.
Too close.
She could hear his boots against the wood.
Could feel his presence occupying the space behind her.
Every time she slowed, she became painfully aware of how much larger he was.
Ronan had always been large.
Not merely tall.
Large.
Broad shoulders. Long legs. The sort of build that made doorways look decorative rather than structural.
Sienna had spent most of her life compensating for being underestimated because of her size.
Standing five-foot-four on a generous day had taught her many useful survival skills.
Being intimidated wasn’t one of them.
Usually.
Tonight felt different.
Maybe because they were isolated.
Maybe because there would be nowhere to escape once that door closed.
Or maybe because she was already too conscious of him.
The stairs creaked.
The silence thickened.
Ronan didn’t seem interested in filling it.
Which somehow made everything worse.
She risked a glance over her shoulder.
A mistake.
His gaze was already on her.
Dark eyes steady.
Unreadable.
For one suspended second, neither looked away.
Heat climbed her neck.
She turned forward immediately.
The remaining flight suddenly seemed much longer.
By the time they reached the top floor, her pulse had become annoyingly aware of itself.
The hallway was empty.
Wind rattled the old building.
Somewhere below, dishes clinked in the dining room.
Ronan stepped around her and unlocked the door.
The room beyond was small.
Smaller than advertised.
One bed sat beneath a window overlooking the sea.
One.
Bed.
Sienna stopped dead.
“No.”
Ronan looked inside.
Then looked back at her.
His jaw tightened.
“Yeah.”
The silence that followed was catastrophic.
“You said double room.”
“I assumed they meant two beds.”
“Apparently they meant one bed for two people.”
“Clearly.”
Neither moved.
The storm roared outside.
The room somehow seemed to shrink around them.
Sienna folded her arms.
“We are not sharing a bed.”
“Agreed.”
“Good.”
Another pause.
“There is also one chair.”
She looked.
One chair.
One bed.
A tiny desk.
Nothing else.
Ronan looked toward the floor.
“I’ll take the chair.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’ll break it.”
His mouth twitched.
Actually twitched.
The closest thing to a smile she’d seen all day.
“I won’t break it.”
“You absolutely will.”
The chair looked fragile enough to lose a fight against a strong opinion.
Ronan stepped inside and pressed a hand against the wooden frame.
The chair responded with a worrying squeak.
Sienna pointed triumphantly.
“See?”
He sighed.
“You can have the bed.”
“I’m not kicking you onto a medieval torture device.”
“I’ll survive.”
The problem wasn’t the chair.
The problem was that neither of them seemed willing to make the obvious suggestion.
The suggestion hanging heavily between them.
One bed.
One night.
A situation neither wanted.
Yet neither could entirely stop thinking about.
Sienna set her bag beside the door.
The air felt warmer suddenly.
Or maybe she was imagining it.
Ronan moved to the window.
Rain streaked across the glass.
Lightning flashed over the dark ocean.
For a moment the room illuminated silver.
The sharp line of his jaw.
The broad shape of his shoulders.
The way he filled the small space without even trying.
Then darkness returned.
Sienna looked away first.
Again.
Annoying.
She walked toward the bed and sat carefully on the edge.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight.
Ronan turned.
Their eyes met.
The silence returned.
Not empty this time.
Charged.
Crowded.
Dangerously aware.
The kind of silence that wasn’t caused by a lack of things to say.
The kind caused by too many.
Outside, thunder rolled across the island.
Inside, neither of them moved.
And somehow the room felt even smaller than before.
