by Mia Kayla
I took a swig of my water as Luke observed me, quietly studying me like I was some sort of animal he’d never seen before.
“How do you know Kent?”
“He’s my friend.” I continued to drink my water.
Luke laughed once. “Yeah, right. Kent doesn’t have any friends—well, me maybe, but no female friends, that’s for sure.” He raised two fingers to the bartender in front of us and pointed to his glass.
“So, what happened out there? I only saw Kent gripping that guy in a death hold,” he asked, leaning against the bar.
“Those guys were getting frisky, too frisky, and then…I don’t know. Kent came out of nowhere and helped me out.” I took another drink.
Luke examined me from head to chest with another bewildered look on his face. He was silent, studying me once again. To ease the awkwardness, I glanced to my side at the couple groping each other.
Silence was broken when the bartender placed two drinks in front of us.
“No, that’s okay,” I said, pushing the glass toward Luke.
He tossed money on the counter and inched the glass back in my direction. “Well, Kent told me to have you drink. You heard him.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean whatever is in that glass,” I said, eyeing the deep gold liquid in front of me.
“Come on, I bought you a drink.” He lifted his glass toward me and nodded to my drink on the bar.
“Fine.” I reached for the glass, feeling the coldness. It was a hard contrast to my warm hands. I lifted the glass and wrinkled my nose at the potent smell. “What is this anyway?” I took a sip and made a face. Whatever it was, it was strong enough to kill the germs on my kitchen counter.
“Keep drinking. It’s good.”
I shook my head as I took another chug. The liquid coated my throat and hit my stomach with a burn. I felt queasy. I lowered my head and closed my eyes as I felt the burn deep within my belly. “Crap, that stuff was strong.”
“Don’t throw up. That’s one sure way to get us kicked out of this place.”
He caressed my neck and massaged it with one hand. His touch gave me goose bumps and not the good kind.
I lifted my head and moved slightly away. “I don’t even know how I’m going to drive home.”
He leaned in and ran a finger on my outer thigh. Bile rose in my throat, and I flinched at his touch.
“I can take you home,” he said, edging closer toward me.
The scent of liquor on his breath mixed with the smell of the expensive cologne he was wearing. Everything about him repulsed me.
I pushed myself off the bar stool in one swift movement and moved away. I was tired of being fondled today.
“No flippin’ chance, loser.” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. I stomped toward the roped area where Kent had entered.
A stoic bouncer stood there. I tried to stand straight, but failed and stumbled slightly. I was queasy from the drink Luke had given me, and all I needed was to get home. “I’m here to see Kent,” I said.
The bouncer nodded and moved to let me pass.
Darkness engulfed the room. The only sources of light came from tea lights on the tables. The music pounded in my ears, but as I skimmed the room, I saw no one was dancing. People were sitting and drinking at the tables.
I moved past a girl straddling a guy on the couch. His hands were up her skirt. I scurried to the next table and watched a group of three crowd around a mirror sprinkled with a powder-like substance. I’d seen enough movies to know what they were doing.
I walked faster and scanned the room for Kent. I wanted to tell him that I was leaving. The faster I moved, the more I felt like falling. Taking off my heels, I stepped barefoot on the cold, hard floor. My eyes searched the room and I finally felt my shoulders relax as I spotted Kent in the corner.
I was relieved that he wasn’t snorting something. His head was rested back against the couch, his lips slightly parted. When I approached closer, I noticed his breathing was accelerated. I would have thought he was sleeping, but his eyes were shut tight in concentration. His breathing became erratic, and that was when I looked below.
I stopped dead in my tracks as I saw red high heels sticking out from under the table. The last thing I saw was his pants dropped to the floor before I gasped and wheeled around to run out of the room. Panic began to rise as I discovered that I was totally out of my element. I wasn’t familiar with the surroundings nor did I know my new friend as well as I thought I had.
I swayed, feeling unsteady, and then stopped to place my heels back on. I had to grip the table closest to me for support. I rushed myself out of the dark room and into the pretty-people room. I took one last glance behind me and realized that I was way out of my league. I didn’t belong with this group of people—not that I would ever want to be a part of this group anyways.
When I crossed from the pretty-people room into the normal clubbing room, loud music filled my ears. I wobbled as my vision doubled. I stumbled into a girl, and she pushed me off of her.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to regain my footing.
I raced toward the front, and when I finally made it outside, I gasped for air, blowing a series of short breaths to keep myself steady. I had to concentrate hard on not throwing up on the valet guy in front of me as I handed him my ticket. I fished in my purse for a dollar and pulled out a twenty. I pushed it back into my purse and yanked out a ten. Clutching my stomach with both hands, all of a sudden, I felt faint. I gave him the ten, and he reluctantly handed me the keys.
“It’s right there on the corner, unless you want me to drive it up.” He pointed at the end of the street where the black Bentley was sitting under a lamppost.
I shook my head, unable to voice an answer.
I held my mouth and rushed toward the Bentley down the street. When I pressed the unlock button, the Bentley’s lights flashed. Falling to my knees, I gripped the door handle and threw up all over the exterior of Kent’s shiny black car. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, stepped into the car, and locked myself inside. After reclining the passenger seat all the way back, I passed out.
My head was pounding, and the light was shining too brightly in the room. I flipped over, placed the pillow over my eyes, and inhaled the scent of freshly laundered sheets. The smell of the detergent was one I was not familiar with. I opened one eye and took a peek from under the pillow to take in my surroundings.
Immediately, I jumped up to a sitting position, causing my head to spin from the abrupt movement. Glancing under the thick duvet, I saw I was only wearing my underwear and a man’s T-shirt. My heart pounded in my chest as I remembered the last person I had seen was Luke.
In a king-sized bed, fluffy down pillows surrounded me. In front of me was a massive flat screen TV, and at the foot of the bed was a low white couch. One wall was floor-to-ceiling windows while the other was painted a neutral beige. I deciphered that I was in a hotel room.
I could feel the heat building up behind my eyes, tears threatening to spill over. I placed my hands over my face. I was on the verge of crying. I was not this kind of girl. I never drank myself to the point of oblivion where I couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. I cocked my head up as I heard the door open, and when I peered up from my hands, I gave the look of death.
I was surprised to see Kent.
He studied me and scanned the room. Raising one eyebrow, he paced around and stopped in front of me. “Is something wrong? Is someone here?” he asked, his face concerned as he peered over the side of the bed.
I could feel the color draining from my face, and I pulled the covers up to my chin. “No,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at him. “How did I get here? Why am I only in a T-shirt? What happened last night? Why am I here in this hotel room with you?”
His eyes filled with confusion. “I brought you here. I changed you last night because your clothes were covered in vomit. I have no idea what happened. I found you passed out in my car. This is not a hotel roo
m. This is my condo,” he said in one breath.
He walked toward me, his arms cautious and careful at his sides. “Why are you so mad? Actually, I think a thank-you is in order. Also, I’d like to thank you for leaving vomit that has now hardened on the exterior of my brand-new car.”
“Did we sleep together?” I asked, barely audible. I couldn’t even hear my own voice. I was afraid of his answer, but I needed to know. Panic began to rise within me, and I held my breath.
He paused to take in what I’d said. “Oh…” His widened as he registered my question. “Like I told you, you’re not my type. When will you believe that I only want a friendship with you?”
I released a long sigh of relief that was loud enough for him to hear. “I feel dumb now.” I realized I had spoken that thought out loud. Like a small child, I rubbed my eyes with both palms.
“It’s fine. I understand how you jumped to that conclusion, but I was a perfect gentleman last night. Even if I’d wanted to, I was pretty messed-up myself.”
“My head hurts,” I whined. I dropped back down and closed my eyes. My head was pounding so loudly that I thought it would explode all over the soft down pillow behind me.
“What the hell did you take?” he asked before walking out of the room. “Hold on, let me get you some Advil.”
A few seconds later, he was above me with a glass of water in one hand and Advil in the other. His brown hair was in disarray. He wore bed head well, and I swore, he could have modeled for toothpaste.
“How do you manage to still look cute in the morning?” I said, squinting up at him.
He laughed. “I think you’re still drunk. Take this,” he said, putting the glass on the side table next to me and handing me the Advil.
I pushed myself up, resting on my elbows against the satin sheets under me. “I saw you last night with the girl wearing the red heels.”
“Red heels?” His eyes widened in awareness. “Oh, you did now, did you?” His dimple was apparent on his cheek. “She was a present from Luke.”
“Okay, gross.” I rolled my eyes, took a sip of water, and swallowed the Advil.
“You’re the one who brought it up,” he said. He moved to assist me, grabbing my glass and setting it on the side table again.
“Luke bought me another drink, and it put me over the edge. He gave me some strong stuff.” My throat felt dry, like sandpaper. “How do you know him anyway?”
“He’s an old friend from high school.” He frowned slightly as his eyebrows pulled in as though he was deep in thought.
My eyes moved to the alarm clock beside me. It was almost two in the afternoon. “Crap, it’s Sunday. I should go.” I pushed my legs over the bed and froze. My head was still pounding, like someone was playing the drums in my brain. It took all my strength to just stand upright.
“You can stay as long as you want. You don’t look well,” he stated as he gripped my elbow to assist me.
“No, really, I have to go. I have to meet someone.”
“A date? With the guy at the bar last night?” he asked, surprised.
“Oh yeah, a date with both of those guys who basically assaulted me on the dance floor. Actually, I have a date with the guy with one arm. You took the other arm off, remember?” I looked at him like he was crazy. “No, dummy, I’m meeting my friend Caroline.”
“Interesting,” he said, slightly smiling at my comment. “I was serious when I said, don’t pick up guys from a club. You don’t want to catch anything. Plus, a good girl like you can do better than that.”
“Are you talking from experience?” I asked. “Too much information. I’d rather not know.”
He sat at the foot of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “For your information, I get tested twice a year, and I always use protection,” he said, amused by my comment.
“Good to know, but it doesn’t matter because we’re not sleeping together.” I bent down and reached for my jean skirt lying on the floor. “Turn around.”
He turned to face the TV as I slipped on my vomit-crusted skirt. My body ached and the first thing I needed to do when I got back to my apartment was take a hot shower.
“Also, I’ve decided that we can’t be friends anymore,” I said.
His one eyebrow shot up at my words. “Okay…” he said slowly, turning to face me. “Why not? Did I do something to offend you?”
“No. I just realized that I don’t know you very well, and your type of people are just way out of my league. I don’t do drugs or casual sex, and I don’t want to be around that. It makes me feel…” I paused to search for a word. “Uncomfortable.” I pulled my hair into a bun on the top of my head and stepped in front of him to grab my heels.
“Beth,” he said, as he stood from the bed, “let me remind you that you invited yourself to my little outing. I asked you before if you could handle it, and you said you could.”
He offered me his hand, and I gripped it for support while I hopped on one leg to put on my heel.
“When you refer to my type of people, you’re stereotyping. One, the only person I knew from that place last night was Luke. Two, everyone has casual sex—okay, everyone but you has casual sex. Three, I don’t do drugs,” he said as he released me. His eyebrows pulled in. “Plus, I knew you were with me, and I felt responsible for you.” He looked surprised by his own comment.
“Why?” I asked, pausing to assess him.
He laughed. “Now that I think about it, I could sort of tell you weren’t used to that environment. I’ve seen a lot of things happen, and I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” His eyebrows pulled together. “When I left you with Luke, I thought you’d be okay. I didn’t think he’d get you piss-ass drunk.”
I softened at his comment. “Oh.”
He straightened his shoulders. “Did I make you take any drugs last night?”
“Is this a trick question?” I asked, confused.
“Don’t overthink. Answer the question.”
My eyes were cautious as I wondered where this conversation was heading. “No,” I replied.
“Did I try to make a pass at you or coerce you into doing anything against your will?”
“Uh…no?” I said, lifting my eyebrows.
“Yes, that’s right. I told you specifically not to take drinks from anyone but me, and I remember a particular instance when I almost took someone’s arm off because he was being disrespectful. Also, I was very considerate when I let you spend the night. I even changed you out of your vomit-covered clothes before I left you to sleep in my guest room.”
I opened my mouth to speak but Kent raised one finger to indicate he was not done. “If that is not a definition of friendship, I don’t know what is.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to be friends?”
“What an odd question.” His eyebrows drew in. “I don’t know,” he said, studying my face. “Because you make me laugh, and I guess I like that you love to eat and don’t care.” He seemed finally satisfied by his own answer.
I thought of all he’d said, and the fact that he hadn’t tried anything on me when I was passed out had to count for something. I gave him a small smile. “Okay, fine. We’re friends who eat together.”
I made my way to the side mirror and the image of my hideous face stopped me dead in my tracks. My eyes were smeared with eyeliner. My cheeks were red from leftover blush. My lipstick went beyond my lips to the corners of my mouth and up toward my nose.
“Uh…okay, if we’re friends, you have to always tell me the truth. Why didn’t you tell me I look like death right now?”
“I always tell you the truth, Beth.” He walked behind me, so I could see both of our reflections in the mirror. “You look like death right now.” He framed my shoulders with his hands. “And smell like vomit.”
At that, we both laughed.
Looking at his reflection again, I thought to myself, It’s not fair that he looks like a model in the mo
rning, even while hungover.
The next week was restaurant week with Kent. There were over three hundred restaurants participating with prix fixe menus. It took forever and a half to decide together on where we wanted to go. We compromised by trying both of our top five picks. On multiple days, we went to lunch and dinner. I’m certain I gained over five pounds getting my eat on.
Before I knew it, the workweek was over, Friday night had come, and I was out at the bar with my coworkers. It was a different environment, seeing everyone out of the corporate element. Jim was by the bar, laughing like I’d never seen him laugh before. He was wearing jeans and a Northwestern alumni T-shirt, looking younger and more relaxed.
Sitting on a bar stool next to Caroline, I watched as she wrapped her arms around her tall, lanky boyfriend, Jeff. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, and I wondered if they remembered that I was right beside them.
I jumped when I felt a hand on the small of my back. When I turned, Brian was behind me with a beer in his other hand.
“Hey,” he said, leaning into me.
I moved from his touch, hoping Caroline hadn’t seen it.
“Brian, finally, you’re here. Beth over here has been waiting for you.” Caroline giggled before tilting her beer bottle all the way back.
I gave her my evil eye before taking a sip of my drink.
“Beth, I’m so kidding.” She hiccupped. “What number is this one?” she asked, turning to her boyfriend and lifting her bottle.
“Caroline, don’t you know? Beth doesn’t date coworkers, so there is no way she could have been waiting for me.” Brian gave me a wink, breaking the awkwardness.
I silently thanked him and awarded him with a small smile.
“I’m going to order the next round. What are you guys drinking?” he asked.
After we gave him our requests, Brian headed toward the bar, and I watched his broad shoulders move under his fitted T-shirt.
“Beth, look at all that hotness! If you only gave in a little…” She hiccupped. “Quit being so uptight, and live the life. Plus, you two would make the cutest couple.”
Before I had a chance to snap at her for teasing me one too many times, Jeff grabbed her beer bottle.
