Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I bend, and yeah, I know this is weird, but what other option is there? Once the soap is rinsed off my face and neck, I run clear water into my palms and do the best I can with my scalp. I spent so much time curling my hair for tonight, but I am certainly not going to cry over that. My eyes definitely aren’t burning or watering. Nope. That’s the booze. And the soap.
Thankfully, this place has paper towels and not just hand dryers. I grab a handful, wet them, and dab at my blouse. The goop has already sunk in, and it’s probably toast. My skirt has a few spatters, but maybe they’ll come out in the wash. My boots were spared, which is a good thing because they’re vintage, and vintage red cowboy boots aren’t cheap. At least these ones weren’t.
My hair is a wreck, but it's a good thing I always have an emergency hair tie with me. I unzip my clutch, extract it, whip my hair over, and then twist it into a bun—a tight one at the scalp because it’s all soaked. Then, I make it messy enough on top that it kind of covers up the damage as the strands fall all over.
I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror.
My stomach sinks.
This was supposed to be a fun night, but now my favorite blouse is wrecked. The hot stranger has probably gone on to greener, less disastrous pastures, and even if that’s probably for the best, it still sucks. There was just something about him. I don’t know what it was. Maybe he’s an old soul. Or maybe we’ve had a past life together. It feels a little bit like recognizing something in someone that there’s no way you should recognize because you don’t know each other, though it feels like you do.
I just want to go home and go to bed. Even if the dog is probably on said bed, and it now smells like dog farts. He’s warm and cuddly. Every single time I do something nice for him, which is basically anything in his mind, he looks at me with his one big, happy brown eye and wags his tail like he’s so grateful, and it just melts me.
I head out of the bathroom because I can’t just stay in here feeling sorry for myself. I expect the stranger will be long gone by now, but when I approach the side of the club where my group is supposed to be, they aren’t there.
But he is.
He raises a brow when he sees me, but he smiles. It’s the best smile. Warm. Genuine. It’s as sweet as his maple syrup eyes.
I twist around and look in the direction of the dance floor. It’s on the far right, and it’s huge. My party could easily get swallowed up in it, even though there are a few of them.
“They’re gone.” There are, however, two trays of water on the table. “I came back, and they weren’t here. I’ve looked all over.”
My jaw drops open. “They left without me?”
“Did they?” He looks as confused as I feel.
“I don’t know. They…they were going to go to another club. The bus. Right. The freaking bus! How could I have forgotten? I didn’t think they were going to do another one for at least an hour, but they must have decided to go. They were all pretty drunk, hence the water, but I can’t believe they forgot about me.”
“I’m sure they didn’t forget.” He sounds very unconvinced, and now his features are showing some sympathy or other that guts me and makes my cheeks flame up red. I don’t want to be someone that needs that. “I think it was just an accident. Inebriation tends to scramble the brain.”
“Yeah.” I toe the faux wood floor with the tip of my boot as tears sting the backs of my eyes. I don’t want to let them fall. I don’t want to look up and meet his I’m so sorry your life is a disaster gaze.
But wait. Why is he still here?
Out of sympathy?
“So now you don’t have a ride home,” he says.
I snap my head up so fast that I see bright spots. Nope, that’s just the strobing lights in the place. The bass is starting to scramble my brain. Maybe that’s what happened to Kate and everyone else. Combined with the booze, it’s probably easy to see why they just left without me. It’s not like I don’t matter. It’s not like she forgot about her own best friend on purpose. I’m sure it’s not.
“I—I’ll just take a cab.”
“Isn’t that unsafe?”
I make a noise in my throat, but the music drowns it out. “Hardly. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He blinks at me. I blink back. Then, there’s the world’s longest and most awkward pause. “I could give you a ride if you want,” he tells me.