I wrapped my towel around my body tightly, still dripping with water, and shimmied to the door to let him in. Imagine my surprise when I opened it wide with a few choice words and found the Thing staring back at me. Aleck’s version of me staring back at me. Then the ugly Marvel character started to sing. Loudly. While I stood there dripping water all over the entryway in my towel.

“It was so nice of you to help me move, so I’m going to help you groove! You’re such a cool chick, that is for sure. Let’s make this hallway our dance floor…”

The Thing, clunky in his giant boulder-like costume, awkwardly grabbed my wrist—the one holding up my towel, mind you—and pulled me into the hallway while I struggled to keep my body covered, then proceeded to bee-bop around me like an idiot.

“Next time you need someone, I’ll be there. Because for you I will always care. My moving buddy, I’m so dang lucky. Have a wonderful week!”

When the ridiculous, ill-written song was over, I stood horrified while the Thing cleared his throat and unskillfully muttered, “Okay, um, this message has been sent to you by Mr. Fox, courtesy of Sing and Celebrate With Us Party Rentals and Entertainers. Book us for your”—he pointed his sausage-like finger at me—“next party!”

Then he turned around and started down the hall toward the elevator where a very pleased with himself, grinning from ear-to-ear, Aleck Fox leaned against the wall watching.

I narrowed my eyes on him, drew in a breath of lava-hot oxygen, whipped around, and stomped back inside the suite, slamming the door behind me. Then I charged to my room, where I am now, awaiting the taunting that’s headed my way.

Who the hell does he think he is?

Did he seriously go through that much trouble just to irritate me? Did I mention I hate him? I bet he’s only happy when the people around him are miserable. Well, guess what, I’m tickled he sent a teenager dressed as the Thing to harass me. Even if I was dripping wet and naked. Even if I was hurrying to get to the door, thinking he had locked himself out.

The door to the suite opens and closes in the distance. I pull a black V-neck T-shirt over my head and slip a pair of panties under my towel. Hearing Aleck coming down the hall, I slip into my walk-in closet and pull a pair of jean shorts on.

I don’t just hear Aleck enter my space, I feel Aleck enter my space. Maybe I feel the suffocation of his arrogance, or his smugness, but I feel him all the same.

I grab my brush from the sink counter in the en suite and walk into the bedroom with a smile. Because reacting is what Aleck wants. I will never give him what he wants. Aleck saunters across the room, then plops onto my bed, shirtless, sweaty, and blissfully delighted. He stretches out across my duvet and kicks his almost pristine sneakers up, crossing one leg over the other. Then, he throws his arms behind his head in the most blasé way.