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Chapter 2: The Plus-One
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I feel the piercing pain tremble through my skull before I can even open my eyes. It hurts like hell, not that I know how that feels like. Then the next thing that hits me is something white, and that burns like hell. Again, figuratively speaking here.
I reach down expecting to pull up a cover to shield me from the sun, but when all I grab is air, I sense that something strange is going on here. Slowly and cautiously, I open my eyes.
Where the hell am I?
This place is extremely luxurious with its marble ceiling and marble floors and some sort of cloth that looks expensive hanging on the frames of the windows. I feel like I'm in what many people call the living room, but all the equpiment is so luxirous I'm unsure if I'm in a fancy VIP room where celebrities hang out back stage. The next thing I spot is a 110 inch Samsung UHDTV. These are kind of things I can only dream about, and yet, they're sitting right in front of me. And don't even get me started on the table. It's as thin, glassy, and sleek as . . . whatever is as thin, glassy, and sleek as it. Man, and the couch. I think I've slept the best I've ever slept in my life. I mean, this is heaven compared to whatever ditch I'd been sleeping in for the past 20 years of my life. Maybe this is a dream. It was way too good to be true.
I spring from the couch in hopes of waking up but am instead greeted by another round of painful punches straight to the brain. Man, what the hell did I do last night? What time is it? I rummage through the couch with my eyes half open trying to look for my phone.
Holy shit! I'm late! Suddenly I'm wide awake. I'm out of that heavenly couch before I can even count to three with my purse strapped tightly around my shoulder. I'm running, and running, and now . . . now I'm lost. This place is much larger than I'd presumed. I feel like I'm in a maze, only worse because this is real life, not a game, and I'm about to be late for work. Oh my gosh! Did I get kidnapped? Is this where rich psychopaths take young woman to be their slaves forever?
My heart's beating a gazillion beats per second as I stand there letting the anxiety consume me. I feel like I'm about to pass out. That's excluding the factors of my splitting headache, my urge to puke, and the fact that I'm still on my period. Why does life have to be so cruel to me? What did I do to deserve this?
And then I'm suddenly doing something I haven't done in a long time. I'm praying. My hands are held together, my eyes are closed, and I am begging God for my life. To get me out of here in one piece. I'm about willing to do anything.
"What are you doing?" asks a male voice. I can feel their breath right next to my ear as they say the words, sending shivers down my back. I'd asked God to save me, not to kill me! I spin around so fast, and as I do, I raise my right hand and ball it into a fist. The next thing I know my knuckles make contact with the stranger's firm cheek bone. I feel something crunch beneath my skin, and no, it was not his cheek bone. More like my fist bone.
"Ouch!" I scream as I retrieve my hand, gripping it with my other palm which only makes it hurt more. What they never tell you, punching someone stings like a bitch.
"What the hell did you do that for," the man in front of me screams. He's no longer standing. Instead, he sits on the floor with one hand against the side of his face and his sunglasses splat against the floor nearby, still looking like a supermodel may I add.
"What the hell do you mean what did I do that for? Get me out of here you kidnapper! I don't know what you're trying to do but I will hit you again if you don't let me go," I try stating firmly through my gritted teeth.
He slowly lifts himself from the floor, retrieving his sunglasses and placing them back on his face, coming back to standing directly in front of me. "Wow, you must have been real drunk last night," he says rubbing his cheek. "And if I were you, I'd think about taking some self-defense classes. You punch like a girl."
"I am a girl," I retort. "And what do you mean drunk? Who the hell are you?"
"You mean you don't remember," he asks as he simultaneously takes a step forward. He's way too close now. As much as it appeased me to have a hottie only two inches away, I'm feeling way too claustrophobic right now. So I take three steps back. Of course, that doesn't stop him from following. At this point my back is pressed against the wall. His arms cage me in one by one, keeping me completely trapped. "Should I remind you," He whispers against my ear, his cool breath making the hairs on my neck stand tall. Then all of a sudden I feel a wet and slimy substance move up the edges of my ear. It felt like a . . . tongue?
I immediately push him off. "What the he-" I stop myself. It's suddenly all coming back to me, my memories. The whole shitty day I'd had yesterday. Till I went to the bar and met what's his face's name, and the little agreement, and then coming here . . .
6 hours before
By the time we made it to his front door I could barely stand on my own two feet. I have an arm over his shoulder as he practically drags me through the gates and up the stairs into his house. He turns on a light as we enter, and even drunk it's hard to miss how amazing the place looks. It must have cost a fortune. I mean, standing outside it looks as if the house is practically its own island. What kind of person lives in a place this huge?
"Wow," I slur as I take my first step into the mansion, but before I know it I'm leaning up against him again.
"I hope you know that you're a whole lot heavier than you look," he huffs as he continues to drag me up another staircase. I can only direct a lazy smile up at him, too drunk to say anything at the moment.
Once we've made it up the staircase, he drags me down a hall and into a room with large doors. And again, the scenery is too beautiful and luxurious for me to describe. Man, I really need to increase my range of vocabulary. He sets me down on the nearest couch.
"Now I would put you in a bed but my staff is gone for the day since it's their day off, and frankly, it will take way too much effort to get you up another flight of stairs so I hope you won't mind the couch for tonight," he says taking a seat next to me.
I hear his words but don't really mind them. Really I'm just looking at his ears. Did you know that the ears are the windows to the brain? Not literally, obviously. What you really meet when you dig in there is your auditory canal but that's not the point. My point is that the ears are the closest entries to the brain, also a good way of reaching the brain too if you like stick a drill in it or something. Don't ask me. I saw it on an episode of Teen Wolf once. But the point . . . wait. What is the point? I don't even know? What was I talking about?
"I'm gonna leave and give you some time to rest and sober up," Ryan continues, reeling me from my thoughtless drabble. "If you need me I'll be down the hall," he concludes as he makes his way to the exit.
"Wait!" I grab his arm and pull him back before he can move any further. He plops back onto the cushions again and I stare intently back at his ear. I can't help it. I'm not sure why but his ear is so attractive to me. Like how some women define physical attractiveness by someone's abs, eyes, or arms, I like the ear. There's just something so damn sexy about the stature of a man's ear.
I lean in closer, pulling my legs underneath me and pushing him so far back against the sofa to the point that his head hit the edge of the couch's arm. I trap him inside my long, slender arms, my face gradually moves closer to his until my lips are at his ear. And I let my tongue trail the outlines of his ear.
Hmmm. Tasty.
"Um . . . what the hell are you doing," he asks in disbelief at my sudden touch.
"I'm so hungry," I mumble, about to go down again for another lick but instead I stop myself once I feel a weird rumble go through my stomach. Then I feel something slipping up my throat. The next thing I know I'm spitting up vomit all over Ryan's chest . . . and it feels good.
"Ew," Ryan screams sprouting up from the couch, his eyes trained on the gooey stain on his man boobs. "Okay, rule number one. Keep 5 feet away from me at all times or this deal is off and I'm calling the police!"
"Just one more taste," I plead, my head becoming more foggy the longer I stare up at his tall figure.
"You're sick, you know that?" The next thing I know he's storming out the room and I'm sitting on the heavenly couch, only to have fallen asleep seconds later, unaffected.
Present
At least I'd been unaffected at the time. Now? Not so much.
My posture suddenly changes and I'm standing with my head down, embarrassed. I can't believe I did that. And after I told myself I wouldn't get drunk again. You know what you do when you get drunk. Stupid things! And one of those stupid decisions were standing right in front of me.
"Look, Riley," I start.
"It's Ryan," he corrects.
"Right. Well, though the details still aren't very clear, whatever happened last night is in the past and should be forgotten. 'The only thing a person can ever really do is keep moving forward. Take that big leap forward without hesitation, without once looking back. Simply forget the past and forge toward the future.'" I say quoting Alyson Noel, one of my favorite authors. I liked reading her stories whenever I have free time.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen," he retorts. "I still have your nasty vomit glued to my skin. It's disgusting, extremely."
"I'm sorry," I offer, my apology sounding more like a question.
"You know what, forget it it. This was a bad idea, I think you should leave," Ryan sighs.
"No, please don't. I'm broke and homeless."
"That's not my problem."
"Wait! Wait," I plead, grabbing on to his arm to stop him from jerking me backward. His ripped, muscle toned arm sends ripples cascading down my back. He wasn't near as built as Mike, but his lean posture gave him a very refined, proper feel. And then my eyes trail up to his ears. His smooth skin, soft earlobe, round surface . . .
"Are you checking me out right now?"
"What?" I look up at his face now, still dazed, before popping back to my senses. "No! Of course not!" I scream letting go of his arm. "But seriously, I can't be sleeping on the streets. I have back problems. Plus, I have kids and it wouldn't look good if they saw me on the street, now would it?"
"You're a mom?" Ryan's eyes widen in surprise.
"No, no, no. I'm a teacher. I meant that it wouldn't be a good projectile for my students. They have enough trouble listening to me as it is, I don't need them putting whoopee cushions on my chair or making pancakes out of my hair," I explain.
"Oh yeah, you mentioned that yesterday. Something about a Fat Tammy too if I recall correctly," he murmurs, thinking both inwardly and externally.
"Shit," I suddenly exclaim. "Did you bring me here?"
"Well I don't really know who else would," he answers sarcastically.
"My car. It's still at the club. Do you think you can give me a ride so I can go get it?" I ask.
"What am I? Your personal chauffeur?" he retorts.
"Please, just this one time! I'm really running late and if you ever expect me to leave at some point in your life I need to keep my job. Once I get my car back I won't have to bother you anymore. Just, please!" I'm only seconds away from getting on my knees and begging.
"Okay, I'll help you for now, but don't you dare get used to it because I'm not going to let it happen anymore!"
"Good, now lets go," I cheer, waiting for him to lead the way out of this humongous mansion.
He sighs restlessly but shows me out. I only smile as I trace his direction.
Once we're in the car, I sit as patiently as possible as I watch the minutes tick by. 15 minutes. Only 15 minutes left before I got fired.
"What are you thinking about?" Ryan asks unexpectedly, breaking the silence.
"Oh, you know. Just about what I should wear to my funeral this afternoon. Do you think I should wear black or something else? Should I dress fancy or something? I'm not really sure. You know, I've never really thought about it before. You know what, I think I'll have to go shopping before the funeral and pick some clothes out. Oh wait, I can't. Because I'll already be dead!" I rush out, making sure to bang the passenger side door by the end of it.
"Hey! Not my car! Do you have any idea how much it took to get my doors fixed?" Ryan squeals.
"Why would you have needed to get your door fixed?" Is the only thing I can ask turning my head towards him.
I see something flicker in his eyes. It's only there for less than a second but I saw it. I'm not exactly sure what it is I saw however.
"T-that doesn't matter. The important thing is that don't damage something that doesn't belong to you," he spits.
"You're not my dad," I scream.
"I'll kick you out of this car right now and you are gonna be so late and I'm not gonna care," he retorts.
I give a reluctant grimace but don't say anything.
"So, would you mind telling me what your real name is?" he asks, keeping his eyes fixed on the road but glancing at me over his glasses from the rearview mirror from time to time.
"I didn't tell you?" I ask surprised.
"No."
"So you mean, you dragged me in your house not even knowing what my name is?" I let out a shocked breath. "Well that's just plain stupid."
"H-" He starts but I don't let him finish.
"I mean, what if I was a pedophile or a murderer or even a rapist? And you just let me into your house like that? How stupid could you possibly be?"
"Tha-"
"Man, I wouldn't have even talked to me if I were you," I say cutting him off again. "You are so lucky it was me and not some weirdo because that would have been scary."
"No, I'm pretty sure I got the weirdo," he mumbles.
"What did you just say," I demand, stretching my seatbelt to get in his face.
"5 feet, remember?" Ryan pushing me back into my seat. "Now please, all I want to know is your name."
"Try guessing. What do I look like to you," I ask.
Even through those dark shades I can see his eye roll reflect from the rear view mirror, but he plays along anyway. "I don't know, I guess you kind of seem like an Amber."
"Amber," I repeat aloud.
"Yeah, you know, AMBER!" he screams. "AMBER, WAIT. DO YOU HEAR ME? WAIT! AMBER!" You know, the Ambers that you'd usually try calling while in the hallway at high school or something and they can't hear you? The half deaf girls?"
"Okay . . . no, my name is not Amber," I reply. "Try looking at something further down the alphabet."
"Tamber?"
"Move up."
"Pamber?"
"My name does not have the word amber in it so please stop suggesting it." I butt in, getting irritated.
"Okay, sorry." He pauses for a moment, seeming deep in thought. "What about Mary? You know, like the virgin mary? Because you obviously haven't even made it past second base."
"Ay! I'll have you know that that's none of your business and that is highly offensive to my street cred," I remark.
"Street cred?" he laughs. "Yeah, right. Well, whatever I still think Mary's a good guess."
I sigh. It's always someones first assumption to call me that once they saw my name. Could ya quit putting so much emphasis on the a, you're only tiring yourself out."Close, but no. My name's Marie. M-A-R-I-E. Maaa-- rreeee. Not Maarrrr- rrrrrrrreeeee because no, I do not want to marry you."
"But you obviously want me." My cheeks redden at his comment and the only thing I can think to do is swat him on his shoulder. "Ouch! Again, quit with hitting me! Jesus!"
"Don't use the lord's name in vain." I say. His eyes roll. "And maybe if you didn't do or say things that made me want to hit you, I wouldn't hit you. Did you ever think about that?"
"No, it really didn't seem to come to mind during the 7 hours that I've known you."
"Whatever. Are we there yet?"
"Where do you work?"
"Brooklyn High, why?"
"Then yes, we're here," he states coming to a halt. I raise my eyebrow in confusion before looking out the window, and sure enough, there we sit parked outside the school. Of course I had to turn my head away quickly due to the bright sunlight that is blinding me.
"I thought you were going to drop me off at the club?" I ask.
"Considering that I kind of need you and don't want to be attending your funeral, I thought it best to just drop you off here." he states, while holding out his hands.
"What?"
"Your keys! So I can get your car, remember?" he retorts.
"Oh yeah, right." I answer while digging through my purse for them before handing them over. "Be careful with it, okay. Right now it's one of the only few things I own."
"Right, now run along! You've only got three minutes until the bell rings."
I open the car door and start to step out, but again with my eyes in the bright light, it continues to bring on a large migraine. I felt like a vampire who's been dead for centuries and is allergic to the sun.
"Wait," I say turning back to him, "where am I supposed to meet you?"
"I'll just have someone come pick you up. What time do you finish?"
"Four," I answer.
"Then it's settled. At four o'clock I'll have someone get you and bring you to my office. Now get out!" he demands.
"Wait, one more thing." I say.
"What?" I lunge my hands towards his face and quickly pull the sunglasses from his face before putting them on my own. "Hey, I need those!"
"Sorry!" I squeal as I race out of his car. "I'll return them later."
And with that I'm off, racing as quickly as I can in my sandals. As I push through the students that still stay lingering in the hallways, I urge them to get to class, but right now that's not my main priority. Seventeen seconds. That's all I have left.
Turning the corner, my classroom door is now in plain sight.
7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . .
Almost there.
3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
I keep my composure as I walk in just when the bell rings. Moving to my desk, I place my purse and the sunglasses down and stare at my students with a large, fake smile plastered on my face.
"Good morning class!"
"Wow, seeing you racing to your class like that is something I never thought I'd ever see. What happened to little miss punctual?" Mike asks as he leans against the doorframe.
"I have no idea." I mutter as I continue flipping through the millions of papers that sit on my desk.
"What did you say? I couldn't hear you." Mike says.
"Nothing." I answer quickly. "And why are you here? Don't you teach a class this period?"
"I usually do but all the juniors are out on a field trip right now." he answers.
"That's right." I say to myself. I'd completely forgotten. I guess that explains why some of my classes looked a little light. I'd figured they'd all ditched.
"Are you okay?" Mike asks as he removes himself from the doorframe and instead takes a seat on the edge of my desk.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I answer. That is if you subtract the large migraine in my head, my ex-bestfriend ditching me, you moving on right after we break up, and my parent's possible divorce. "I'm just going through some shit."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Talk to you? Hell no! After what you did to me? What you're doing to me? And you want me to talk? Well, you know what, you can go fudge yourself!" Of course that's not what I actually say. What I do say is, "Maybe later."
"Well have you thought about my invitation? A party could really get your mind off things."
"Again, there you go with that stupid engagement party! I don't care you bastard!" Of course I would never allow myself to say that to him. What I really say is, "I've thought about it."
"And . . . ?"
"And I don't think I ca-" I cut myself off. What I was about to say was 'I don't think I can go.' But then Ryan pops into my head. Yes, I'm thinking about the CEO of the largest enterprise in the city. Maybe he'd be willing to come with me. I mean, I kind of have a boyfriend now so bringing him would provide me with ease. I could show Mike that I've finally moved on to someone better, show him that he's really missing out. "Actually, I think I can go."
"Great!" he says, seeming somewhat relished. As if he never thought I'd say yes. "Well, I'll just email you the information."
"Sounds good." I smile as I flip back to my papers. I can hear the weight on the table leave as Mike begins to walk back to his classroom. "Oh, and Mike?"
He stops in his tracks and looks back at me with expectant eyes.
"Can I bring a plus-one?"
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And that's a wrap! I hope you liked it. VOTE, COMMENT, SHARE, and FOLLOW for more! Thanks for your support, and lets see this story go somewhere. Until next time, BYE MY LOVELIES! :D (did you know that if you separate the word 'lovelies' it says 'love lies.' Ooh!)