Lips #11 (I-dle's Minnie)

The elevator doors slide open and Minnie steps out, her heels clicking softly on the thick carpet. The hallway smells faintly of fresh flowers, just like the lobby downstairs. She stops in front of her room, a gold-plated number on the door, and slips the keycard in. The lock beeps, the light flashes green, and she pushes the door open. Her suitcase rolls in behind her, the expensive leather gleaming under the warm light. She doesn’t notice the other suitcase near the wall.

Then the bathroom door opens. Steam rolls out, followed by you. Your hair is still wet, droplets sliding down your shoulders and across the ink that marks your skin. A white towel is knotted around your waist.

Minnie freezes.

“What…Who are you?”

You stop mid step, just as surprised.

“Uh… I was about to ask you the same thing. Is this your room?”

“Yes!”

Minnie’s brows furrow, but her gaze flickers briefly over the tattoos wrapping your arms and chest before snapping back to your face.

“What are you doing here?”

You glance toward the bed, then at her suitcase.

“I think the hotel screwed up. I was given this room when I checked in.”

Minnie’s lips press into a thin line.

“Right. Or maybe you just saw a good opportunity to walk in here and-”

She waves a hand vaguely, the distrust clear in her voice.

“You expect me to believe this is an accident?”

You sigh and gesture toward the hallway.

“Why don’t you go downstairs and ask them? I’ll wait here.”

She shakes her head immediately

“And leave my luggage here? With you? Not happening.”

You’re about to argue when you feel the towel shift at your hip. Before you can grab it, it slips and falls to the carpet with a soft thud. Minnie’s eyes go wide. She doesn’t move, her gaze locked on you, her eyes can’t help but wander. They start at your chest, following the black ink curling over your collarbone. The intricate head of a dragon, scales etched in sharp detail, its body winding down your ribs. Droplets of water catch on the ink, tracing the curves and lines as they slide lower. Her gaze moves to your right arm, where an old script runs from your shoulder to your elbow. She wonders, just for a second, what they say… before her attention drifts lower. On your left hip, partly hidden before by the towel, she spots something that makes her pause. A symbol she’s seen before. In the news. A gang tattoo. A tiger holding onto the jing and jang sign. The realization sends a shudder of unease through her, but her eyes still move down, almost against her will, until she reaches the part the towel had concealed completely. Her lips press together, her eyes widen and she forces herself to look away. But she’s already seen enough. The mix of artistry and danger painted across your skin, and the quiet confidence in the way you don’t bother covering yourself now.

You notice the way her eyes keep moving over you, tracing every line of ink, lingering just a second too long before darting somewhere else.

“Stop staring.”

Your voice is low but direct.

Minnie’s chin lifts defensively.

“I’m not staring.”

“You are.”

Her arms cross, though it does little to hide the faint flush in her cheeks.

“You should put something on.”

You catch the slight shake in her voice. Tilting your head slightly, a faint smirk tugs at your lips.

“Why? You’ve already seen more than most.”

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t step back.

“Because this is my room, and I don’t need some tattoo covered stranger walking around naked in it.”

You step closer, and Minnie instinctively takes half a step back until her legs bump the edge of the bed. Her arms are still crossed, but her eyes flick down again. Just for a second.

“You could just go downstairs and fix this.”

“And leave my luggage here? With you?”

She replies, trying to sound firm, but her voice has lost some of its bite. You lean slightly, bracing a hand against the bedframe near her hip.

“Then I guess we’re both stuck here until someone comes looking for one of us.”

Her breath catches, but she lifts her chin.

“Fine. But you’re still putting something on.”

You glance at the pile of your clothes near the bathroom, then back at her.

“If you wanted me covered up, you wouldn’t keep looking.”

“I’m not…”

She starts, but the protest dies when you step even closer. She swallows, her eyes dragging downward again before she forces them back to your face.

“You’ve got a lot to say for someone who walked into my shower.”

“This is my room.”

Your smirk widens.

“Then maybe you should tell me to leave.”

Minnie doesn’t. Instead, her gaze flickers downward once more, before she bites her lip and looks away.

“You really should…”

Her voice trails off when you move a little closer, letting her see that you’ve noticed every single glance.