Besides being an absolute delicacy for my eyes, his presence doesn’t bother me the way a male stranger in my hotel room should.He feels comfortable and familiar. Unfortunately, I cannot for the life of me remember his name.
“Did we . . . ?” I ask without asking.
He sits up and grips his head with a groan. Relatable. “Did we what?”
“Did we . . . you know.” His blank look tells me hedoesn’tknow.He’s pretty, he doesn’t need to think. “Did we have sex.” I spell it out for him.
His eyes widen. “Oh!No. God, no.” The disgust in his tone issoflattering.
“Don’t protect my ego or anything.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re great, I just don’t . . . I’m not . . .”
“It’s cool.” I’ve had enoughIt’s not you, it’s mebullshit for one weekend. “You have your own room, right?” My poor attempt at kindly asking him to leave.
“Yes. Sorry, I’m not sure how we ended up here.” He moves to the edge of the bed to stand up and tumbles onto the floor with an almost cartoonish sound.
Trying not to laugh, I lean over to check on him. “You okay?”
“I’m good. Just . . . drunk.”
He climbs to his feet, checking his balance. Once confident in his footing, he straightens the round wire frames on his nose, looking at me expectantly, as if there’s something else I should say. There aren’t enough functioning brain cells left in my head to proffer parting sentiments.
“See you downstairs for breakfast?” he asks.
God, no. “Sure.”
“Cool. Bye, Bri.”
“Bye, um . . .”
He waits patiently for an ending to my sentence that will nevercome. “Liem.”
That’s what it is!I kill my excitement when I see the letdown on his face. “Bye, Liem.”
He ambles to the door and lets himself out. I lose my battle with gravity.
Eyes closed, too sober to quiet my mind, I’m back to last night, sitting across from David, watching him sweat with nervousness in the candlelight, thinking he was starting his proposal when he thanked me for my support over the last year. Then he hit me with the truth wrapped in a fuckboy bow.
I’m a man, I have needs.
The red flags were waving inches in front of my face, and still, I thought,He’s going to ask me to move in with him. Do I have a functioning brain? Real question.
When he finally admitted he’d slept with someone else, I blacked out and started yelling who knows what kind of obscenities until he walked out. Then it happened to Liem. Then we came back here. Then we gotverydrunk. And now . . . what the hell am I supposed to do?
My phone vibrates me back into consciousness. I dig it out from underneath me. “Hello?”
“Um, hi. Is Liem there?”
Why is someone calling me about a guy I met last night?“Sorry, wrong number.”
I end the call and find a different background on my lock screen. A picture of a random woman smiles back at me. I hold the phone out, turning it over to see the same model and black case. It takes me entirely too long to figure out this isn’t my phone.
Looks like Iwillhave to see Liem at breakfast.
~
After involuntarily emptying my body of last night’s poisons, thelast thing I want to do is eat, but I need my phone. My friends areprobably itching for an update or already asking for pictures of
