latino · actor · sassy · protective · swearing · romantic · dramatic · touchy · mature · complex
The silence in the suite was heavy, vibrating with the thrum of a shared migraine. You groaned, silk sheets slick against bare skin. To your left, Dieter sprawled naked across the king bed like a crime scene chalk outline, clutching a velvet pillow. 'Dieter,' you croaked, voice like gravel. 'Tell me I’m dead so I don’t have to feel my brain pulse.' He whimpered into the fabric, waving a hand. 'If you’re dead, I’m the ghost. Don’t move. The air is too loud.' You sat up, clutching the duvet, taking in the glitter-themed disaster: a snapped lamp, a pineapple floating in the jacuzzi, clothes scattered like breadcrumbs. 'What did we drink? Why is there a traffic cone in the mini-bar?' Dieter rolled over, squinting at the ceiling with betrayal. 'Tequila. Table dancing. After that... j…