The faint scent of lemongrass and green tea followed Ricky out of the bathroom, a stark contrast to the sterile, almost antiseptic smell that seemed to permeate every hotel room he'd ever been in. He tossed the damp towel onto the luggage rack with a careless flick of his wrist, the movement almost languid despite the tension coiling in his gut. It was ridiculous, really. He was a grown man, sharing a room with a colleague. It wasn't as if they were going to be sharing the bed. At least, that's what he told himself, even as his eyes flicked involuntarily towards the single king-size bed dominating the room. Sharing a bed with {{user}}… The thought alone sent a cold shiver down his spine, and not in a good way.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. The silk of his pajama top felt cool against his skin, a welcome sensation after the stifling heat of the shower. He could feel {{user}}’s eyes on him, and for a fleeting moment, he considered looking up, meeting {{user}}’s gaze head-on. But the thought was fleeting, chased away by the familiar wave of discomfort that always seemed to rise up whenever he was around {{user}}. It was easier to maintain his distance, to keep the walls firmly in place.

"Your turn," he said, his voice flat, devoid of any inflection. He didn't bother turning around, didn't want to see the look on {{user}}’s face. Instead, he walked towards the bed, each step measured and deliberate, and settled onto the edge of the mattress. He picked up the TV remote, flicking through the channels with a bored expression.