THE UNFOLDING PUZZLE

META'S POV:

The biting wind, a lingering memory of the shore, swept through the open window, making Thyme shiver beside me. He hugged his arms, a slight tremor in his frame, but his gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too shy to voice his discomfort. My eyes, however, didn't miss the subtle clench of his jaw, the almost imperceptible tightening of his shoulders. With a smooth motion, I reached across, the click of the window button cutting off the chill, and then nudged on the installed heater. A wave of warm air began to fill the cabin, chasing away the damp cold. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a fleeting, grateful smile touch his lips – a small curve that, for some inexplicable reason, sent a strange warmth through my own chest.

I didn't have a spare towel, a glaring oversight given our impromptu swim, but the trunk was always stocked with oversized bags of tissue. Deciding a full dry-off was more immediate than continuing the drive, I pulled over to the side of the deserted road. Thyme gave a startled glance, his brows furrowing in confusion for a moment, before I reached for the back seat and pulled forward a large, soft package.

"Here's some tissue, Kid. You can use it to dry yourself a little," I offered, trying for a nonchalant tone. He hesitated, his wet fingers hovering over the bag, as if uncertain if he was truly allowed.

"Thank you," he mumbled, his voice soft, as he finally took the bag and carefully pulled out an inner, sealed pack of tissues. He began dabbing at his soaked uniform, the movements precise and almost delicate. Watching him, I knew driving three hours back to Bangkok was a terrible idea. He'd catch his death, not to mention the inevitable traffic at this hour.

My thoughts drifted to finding a nearby hotel. It was the only sensible option. This kid, despite his resilience, was still a walking germ magnet after being submerged. The image of him shivering, pale and vulnerable, kept flashing behind my eyelids. Just as I was about to search for hotels on the navigation, a hand, unexpectedly warm and surprisingly gentle, grazed my cheek. Time seemed to warp. My breath caught, my entire body locking into place, an electrical current shooting through me. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, unpredictable rhythm, as the soft brush of his fingers lingered. What in the world was happening to me? The question screamed in my mind, followed by an irrational surge of panic. My foot instinctively slammed onto the brake, sending a violent jolt through the car as we screeched to a halt.

"So... sorry!" we both blurted out simultaneously, the words colliding in the sudden silence of the car. My cheeks felt hot. I hadn't expected him to try and dry me as well – the gesture was so innocent, so unexpected, that it had triggered an embarrassing surge of pure, unadulterated panic. Thyme, too, seemed utterly flustered, his face flaming, his hand still hovering in the air between us before he quickly pulled it back.

An awkward silence descended, thick and heavy. I started driving again, the roar of the engine a welcome distraction from the deafening thud of my own heartbeat. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Thyme again, noticing something peculiar. He was rubbing his temple, a faint frown on his face. At first, I dismissed it, thinking he was still processing the abrupt stop, or perhaps even that ridiculous "first kiss" incident. But then, a thought, barely a whisper, slipped from his lips, seemingly without his conscious realization.

"That guy might be just my imagination because I lost consciousness in the water."

Guy? My grip tightened on the steering wheel. Who was he talking about? Had he seen him? Had Thyme seen the man who wore my face, the one with the thin, white scar on his cheek? No. That guy, that apparition in the murky depths, was just my imagination. A product of desperation, a hallucination born from a lack of oxygen and the terror of losing him. Yes, that must be it. It was just my mind playing tricks on me, nothing more.

"Ah-choo!" Thyme's sneeze, sharp and sudden, cut through my thoughts, a stark reminder of our predicament.

"As I expected," I said, my voice perhaps a little too firm, shaking myself out of the unsettling reverie. "Returning to Bangkok isn't an option right now. Let's find a hotel for tonight so we can clean up and properly dry ourselves. You'll definitely get sick if we drove back soaked."

"Ho...Hotel?" Thyme muttered, the single word hanging in the air. A furious blush erupted on his face, spreading from his neck to the tips of his ears. His mind, as I'd come to realize, was prone to dramatic flights of fancy. I could almost see the chaotic, scandalous scenarios playing out behind his wide, flustered eyes. And despite myself, a small, genuine smile touched my lips. The kid was undeniably, impossibly cute when he was like this.

I cleared my throat, forcing the small, knowing smile away, or at least attempting to. "Stop thinking other things, I won't do anything to you." Even without looking, I knew exactly how he'd react – a sharp intake of breath, a defensive fluster.

"I... I'm not thinking anything! Stop saying nonsense!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly, confirming my suspicions. It was a monumental effort to hold back the full-bellied laugh bubbling in my throat. He then fell into a stiff silence, his entire posture radiating indignant embarrassment. A few minutes later, when I risked a glance, he was slumped against the window, seemingly fast asleep. Pretending, I knew. He was always pretending when he wanted to avoid talking. I let him be, a quiet amusement settling over me. There was something undeniably endearing about his transparent attempts at evasion.

When we finally pulled up to the hotel's brightly lit entrance, I didn't wake him. Oh, no. The urge to tease him, to push that delightful flustered button, was too strong. He was still feigning slumber perfectly, face tucked into his shoulder, even as I quietly killed the engine and unbuckled my seatbelt. I slipped out of the driver's side, rounded the front of the car, and opened his door. The cool night air hit him, but he didn't stir. My lips twitched. He was committed.

Carefully, I slid one arm beneath his knees and the other behind his back. His small, surprisingly lightweight body felt warm, almost fragile, as I lifted him effortlessly. He remained utterly still, a rigid statue of feigned sleep, even as his head lolled gently against my shoulder. I could feel the faint tremor in his limbs, though, a tell-tale sign of his act.

"So," I whispered, my voice low and dangerously close to his ear, "do you want me to carry you up to the lobby like we're a married couple?"

His entire body went rigid instantly, like he'd been hit with a jolt of electricity. His eyes, previously squeezed shut in pretend sleep, snapped open, wide and wild with pure panic. "Le...Let go of me!" he hissed, his voice muffled against my shirt, already squirming in my arms.

"But if I let you go, you might hit the ground," I countered, a smirk finally breaking free across my face. He looked up at me, eyes narrowed, a furious blush spreading across his cheekbones.

"Stop saying nonsense, you overgrown gorilla! You can put me down!" he exclaimed, though his voice was still a whisper, perhaps out of some lingering embarrassment from his failed charade. My quiet laughter rumbled in my chest as I slowly, carefully, lowered him back onto his feet. His legs, still shaky from the cramp and the feigned sleep, almost buckled, but he managed to steady himself.

It was only then that I noticed the parking attendant, a middle-aged man in a crisp uniform, standing a few feet away, patiently waiting, his gaze fixed on us with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. A beat of awkward silence stretched between us. Thyme, realizing we had an audience, let out a strangled gasp. His eyes widened even further, darting from my face to the attendant's. Without another word, his cheeks flaming a spectacular shade of crimson, he bolted, scurrying through the automatic doors and into the hotel lobby as if chased by a ghost.

I chuckled, shaking my head. I handed the car key to the attendant. "Could you park this for me? I'm not quite sure where your parking is." The attendant, still sporting that unreadable expression, simply nodded and took the key.

As I stepped into the brightly lit, opulent lobby, my eyes immediately found Thyme. He was standing near the front desk, looking remarkably like a lost, soaking-wet kid waiting for his parent, still radiating a faint aura of embarrassment. I noticed the hotel staff. A few female employees, huddled together, whispered excitedly.

"Look at that guy," one of them murmured, her voice carrying clearly in the quiet lobby. "He's so handsome and so tall."

"I think the one with him is so cute! That guy might be single," a male staff member piped up, his voice equally hushed. A wry thought crossed my mind. What was it about Thyme that drew such varied attention? I'd noticed it earlier at the beach – he'd been chased by a strange mix of guys and some women, including a few of my own admirers. The kid certainly had a peculiar, undeniable charm.

"You two are really dumb," another staff member, older and seemingly wiser, suddenly chimed in, cutting off their hushed gossip. "Those two are definitely a couple."

"WHATTT!!!!" Both the previous gossips gasped, clapping hands over their mouths, their eyes wide with shock from their own sudden outburst.

"Can't you see?" the older staff member squealed, now fully invested in her theory. "Their clothes are soaking wet! They must have been at the beach earlier. They're definitely a couple on a date!" Her voice was practically overflowing with excitement.

"Can you stop imagining things?" the two younger staff members whined in unison, clearly uncomfortable with her vivid romantic assumptions.

By then, we had reached the front desk. The staff there, a young woman with a polite smile, greeted us. "Hello, sirs."

I gave a curt nod, already planning my next move, but Thyme elbowed me sharply in the side ribs. "Be respectful," he muttered under his breath, before forcing a strained smile at the clerk. "Uhmm, hello. Can we book two separate rooms?"

It was painfully obvious he couldn't bear the thought of sharing a room with me, a fact I found increasingly amusing.

The clerk's smile remained, but her words were a blow to Thyme's hopes. "I'm so sorry, sirs, but we only have couple rooms available tonight."

Thyme turned a shade paler. He looked as if he couldn't believe his ears, his face a perfect mask of devastation. He then stammered, "Th-then can we have two separate couple rooms?" His desperation to avoid me was almost heartbreakingly funny.

"I apologize, sir," the clerk replied, still perfectly polite. "We only have one available room left."

Thyme's shoulders slumped in utter defeat. His expression was priceless – a comedic tragedy unfolding before my eyes. He easily bought the "no rooms" story, bless his naive heart. It was a weekday, and the beach wasn't exactly packed. I knew this hotel wouldn't be full.

"Then I'll take that room," I interjected smoothly, as Thyme remained frozen in his position of utter surrender.

"Of course, sir," she said, her smile broadening slightly as she processed the booking and handed me the key card.

"Uhmm, by the way, do you sell clothes?" I asked, remembering our predicament. "We didn't bring any spare clothes with us."

"Yes, sir, we do!" the clerk beamed. "You can check it on the tablet in your room. You can make an order using that tablet, and one of our staff will deliver it directly to your room."

"Okay, thank you," I said, giving her a nod, before gently but firmly pulling Thyme, who was still dazed by his defeat, towards the elevator.

As the elevator doors swished shut, I overheard the muffled voices of the three staff members at the front desk.

"Why did you say we only have one available room?" one of the younger staff asked the older woman.

"Because they're a couple who are in a fight!" That was the last sentence I heard, followed by a triumphant squeal. It was all a setup, just as I'd suspected. Luckily, Thyme hadn't caught on. The thought sent another wave of quiet amusement through me. This was indeed going to be an interesting ride.