Plus One

10: Behind closed doors

10: Behind closed doors

After Interlude, for the first time since my arrival in San Francisco, I couldn’t sleep. Like a little kid scared of a monster in the closet, I huddled in the corner of my bed. The alcohol lingering in my system played tricks with my vision and my thoughts, and I didn’t know if I was sitting down or tumbling through a vacuum of open space. The dim light of my clock looked like the flashing burst of a supernova; I squeezed my eyes shut.

My heart pounded with irregular beats that echoed in my head, prodding at my brain until my headache grew almost unbearable. It was a drumbeat: loud, escalating in volume and speed as it breathed life into the swirling ghosts created by my mind. I clutched at my bed sheets—nauseous, trying not to let the gravity of my imagination pull me away. All these twisted, half-awake nightmares, and yet behind my door I could hear the warm voices of Dominic and Taylor. I wanted them to come get me, but knew they never would, and so I clung to their muted words.

I missed you. I love you. Come closer. Hold me. Kiss me. The sound of bodies colliding against a mattress, the soft rustle of disturbed sheets. Racing breaths masking racing hearts. Another whisper, a blissful cry.

Through closed eyes, I watched it all: watched their passion light up the cold, breezy night. Watched skin against skin, watched entangled hands and eyes hungry for love. Through covered ears, I heard it all—heard what hadn’t been said: you are my everything, my best friend, and my soul mate.

You are mine.

***

“Cass? You up?”

I opened my eyes, using my fists to rub the sleep away. My door had been pushed open enough to allow Taylor’s head to poke through; his hair was still wild, and his blue eyes seemed brighter than ever before. He looked happy.

“Oh, I can come back if you want to sleep more,” he said quickly, tripping over his words. “It’s only nine. Dom left to go do something with Charlotte, and I was just… bored…”

I smiled: he was bored. It was a childish excuse, but it was charming in its innocence. I sat up, my muscles moaning in protest, before swinging my legs over the mattress and flinging my dreary body onto the floor. I imagined I looked like hell after last night: my hair sticking out in all the wrong places, my baggy sweatpants accompanied only by the lacy bra I’d been too lazy to take off. Taylor didn’t seem phased by my mangled, half-clothed appearance; then again, he didn’t necessarily embody a put-together look either. Jeans a size too big for his tiny frame hung loosely around his hips, and I swore his half-buttoned shirt had been worn yesterday by his boyfriend.

“How’d you sleep?” I yawned, trying to lock away blurred memories of last night. I wondered if Dom had told Taylor about the stranger, about my pathetic desperation.

He blushed, and I laughed, joining him as we walked into the kitchen. “I’m guessing either very well, or not much at all,” I teased. Being in such a light-hearted mood surprised me, but I had no intention of fighting it.

“I slept…” he trailed off, the pink hue in his cheeks spreading. “I had a nice night.”

“Clearly,” I smirked. Taylor bit his lip as I grinned at him and set about making myself a cup of coffee.

“So was the club fun last night? Dom said you seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, focusing on the two sugar cubes I dropped into my rich, steaming cup of liquid. “Yeah, I think I was.”

“I’ll go with you next time. But as a fair warning, I’m shit at dancing.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” I said, unsure if I’d meant to make the statement out loud. Taylor shot me a grateful look, and as if on cue to demonstrate his brilliance, he sat down at the apartment’s small piano and played a sweet melody that reminded me of a lullaby.