And they do, but I still see his face as they fall shut. I release a shaky breath, bracing my hands on the rail as I bow my head and try to relieve the shakes I was experiencing.
Once I reach the lobby, I practically sprint toward the main doors and rush out into the busy New York streets. I allow the crowd to carry me away from the building, not paying attention to where it is bringing me. But as I end up outside the bar Blue and I used to frequent a lot, I take it as a sign to scratch the itch and step inside.
I have lost track of time, have no idea how many drinks I’ve consumed, but my limbs feel like jello and my brain is just the perfect amount of hazy.
As I spin around on the dancefloor, for the first time in what feels like years, I feel light. Like nothing is weighing me down and I can finally breathe again. No worries bog my mind, no responsibilities. There’s just me, my drink, and the music.
I feel a pair of hands on my waist, but I don’t care. I lean into the touch, my backside resting against a warm chest as a head lands in the crook of my neck. We move in tandem with the beat, not saying a word, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what life could’ve been for me.
And that thought has me sobering up. Why would I want this? I have a daughter at home who is my entire world, who needs me now more than ever. If this was my life, I was no better than her father. Yet, here I am, drunk and dancing with a stranger as my best friend watches my child for me.
I drop my drink as I reach down, trying to remove the man’s hands from my hips, but he digs his fingers in to keep me in place. The room is now spinning as I attempt to get away, but it’s no use. He is too strong and I’m far too drunk.
“Get your hands off her,” I hear someone seethe over the music, the threatening tone in his voice causing me to freeze.
“Or what, tough guy?” The man who is holding onto me spits as he releases my hips, only to sling an arm around my shoulders. I stumble slightly and squint, trying to get my eyes to focus on what’s happening around me.
The stranger holding me takes a couple quick steps backwards, causing me to sway at the loss of contact. A new pair of arms instantly wind around me, and I brace a hand on a firm chest as I try to steady myself the best that I can.
“What the fuck, man?” I hear behind me, but I’m already being led through the crowd, my dance partner left on the dancefloor.
I’m tripping over my own two feet as I notice a large hand wrapped around mine, keeping me close to a white dress shirt covered back as he creates a path towards the front door.
As I step into the cool night air and take a deep breath, it feels like I was underwater, and now I’m finally breaking the surface. I slip my hand out of the mans before me, bracing it on the brick wall beside me.
I place a hand on my chest and close my eyes, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I feel a wave of nausea overwhelm me.
“Here,” that familiar voice says as he gently rests one hand on my back and the other grips my free wrist. “Come sit down.”
He tries to lead me over to the curb, but the bile makes its way up my throat. I plaster a hand over my mouth and find my way to the side of the building just before I empty the contents of my stomach.
My eyes are burning as I bend over, bracing myself against the wall as more bile tries to fight its way out. I feel someone rub soothing circles on my back and pull my hair away from my face.
“Oh, god,” I groan, one hand on my stomach as I attempt to stand upright. My vision is still blurry from the alcohol, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to make myself focus. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” the man says, keeping a hand on my arm as I continue to sway on the spot. “Can I help you home? I can get you a cab.”
Before I can respond, I fold over and throw up again, and he’s instantly there to catch me before I collapse to the ground. The last thing I remember before I black out is the man picking me up bridal style, and the smell of sandalwood and sage.
The sunlight streamingthrough my bedroom window wakes me out of my slumber, and the pounding headache that immediately ensues causes me to grab my pillow and cover my face, effectively blocking out the light.
I roll over, a loud groan escaping me as I do so. I blindly reach for my nightstand and shoot up as I hear a pill bottle hitting the floor. Squinting, I notice a bottle of Advil on the floor, which was previously next to a glass of water, neither of which I remember grabbing last night.
Whatdidhappen last night?
Scooting to the edge of the bed, I lay on my stomach and reach for the bottle before slowly pushing myself up to a sitting position. I can feel my heartbeat in my forehead as my body screams at me.
I take two Advil and down the glass of water before bracing my feet on the carpet. Once I stand, I look down to see that I’m still in my black dress from the funeral.Well, I think to myself as I wander into my closet for a change of clothes,at least I came home by myself.
Stripping out of the dress, I pull a random tank off its hanger before opening the dresser to grab a pair of sweatpants. Walking back into my room, I grab a hair tie off the nightstand and flip my hair down, wrapping my knotted blonde locks in a messy bun atop my head.
I eventually make my way out to the living room, still trying to remember what the hell had happened the night before. The apartment is quiet, so Claire must still be at Blue’s, and since I don’t see Winston anywhere, she must have come and grabbed him, too.
Heading into the kitchen, I pull open the door to the fridge and grab a bottle of water, twisting the cap off and resting my back against the cool door. Just as I bring the water to my mouth, I finally notice something sitting on the island.
My car and house keys, my cell phone, a business card, and a handwritten note.
Rooftop Mystery Girl,
