💦 RoadTrip One Shot Collection 💦

Randy | Empty Space

i'm alone in my head

looking for love in a stranger's bed

but i don't think i'll find it

cos only you could fill this empty space

* r y e *

Saturdays are for forgetting.

Monday through Friday I can stay busy. Keep the distractions coming thick and fast so that all the wrong things stay out of my mind. But weekends are harder. Forgetting becomes an active task. It's an art form I've nearly mastered.

Drink. Loud music. Dance. Repeat.

I don't know why the usual routine doesn't feel like it's working tonight. Maybe it was the random blond I saw earlier today on the tube that kind of looked like him. Somehow I haven't quite tuned him out of my brain yet. I need to take things further.

A girl is looking at me. Smiling. Whispering to her friends. Flirting. She looks like the perfect distraction.

We dance up so close I can feel her body on mine. She's leaning in. I'm letting her.

Our lips connect and it's nothing but two walls of skin meeting. There's no spark. There never is with anyone else anymore. But I have to push through that feeling. I can't keep comparing to something I can never even allow myself to want, let alone have.

So somehow, we end up in a cab together. I don't even know where it's going. She pays as we get out at her apartment.

We exchange another messy kiss against the kitchen counter, sloppy hands roaming each other's unfamiliar bodies. Clothes begin to fly this way and that, a natural progression to the ritual we're both partaking in. There's no love in this, we're using each other.

Skin against skin. Thud. A flesh symphony is erupting now on this cold countertop and it's still only background music in my mind. We're so intimately connected, yet I'm completely alone.

I work out my orgasm mechanically, forcing myself to look at her as I do so, so that I don't close my eyes and see him.

I don't miss you. I don't miss you. I don't miss you. I repeat the mantra in my brain.

"What was that?"

Shit, I must have let my thoughts slip into words.

"I said 'that was amazing'." I correct as she smiles, slumping into my chest.

Then comes the hardest part of the whole ritual. I'm vacantly staring at the ceiling in some random girl's bed, feeling emptier than I've ever felt. I want nothing more than to be in my own bed with one final glass of whiskey to knock me out for the night, but I can't yet. The gentleman in me is waiting out the obligatory cuddling period, too polite to leave straight away even though neither of us really cares or expects this relationship to continue.

I'm concentrating hard on counting the ceiling tiles. Anything to stop my mind from wandering towards the dark pit that's festering inside of me. I'm up to twenty-five before I realise she's talking to me.

"So that's why it's crazy that this happened with us because we never even talked before."

"We just met." I state blandly. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.

"We have met before- I actually first noticed you at a party last year. But you didn't see me, then." She giggles.

"Oh, really?" I'm not really listening. The cuddling period is expiring and I'm trying to remember if I left my keys at the club or under the mat at home.