Madi
I wake to the brightest light I've ever seen, and wince at the shooting pain in my skull. I know I'll only be able to remember last night if someone help me fill in the details. I pull the duvet closer and up over my head. It pulls back. Oh no.
I sit up, throwing the duvet off of me, noticing simultaneously the person asleep next to me and the clothes I'm wearing. The boy is laying on his stomach, his head turned away. I peer over, and my aching head takes a moment to recognize that it's Martijn. Thank God. Wait. No. Not necessarily.
Panic fills me as my mind focuses on my shirt. It's one of Martijn's, and as I smooth my hands over the fabric, I feel my skin under it. I don't have a bra on. I look back at Martijn, horrified. Now my stomach and my head are killing me. I'm going to vomit.
I get out of bed as slowly and lightly as possible, blinking at the intense light streaming through the windows. I'm stuck here in Amsterdam for God knows how long with someone I had a drunken one night stand with who I also happen to be sharing a room with? I need to start making better choices.
As if I've ever made good choices when it comes to guys, I can't help but think as I edge my way off the bed and towards the open bathroom door. I hear a groaning from behind me and I can't help it - I turn to look. Martijn has turned over and is sitting up, one bare arm propping himself up. His bare torso and toned chest look incredible in the morning light. His hand reaches up and works its way through his mussed up hair. I pause, caught in the second as he catches my eye and holds it. Time seems to freeze. My anxiety melts away. I wish I could remember last night, but for a different reason.
Martijn runs his fingers through his hair, and I exhale. "How you feeling, Mad Dog?"
"Uh... not so great. I can't really... remember anything," I say, feeling my face heat up.
Martijn chuckles. "Really? So... you don't remember what happened with DJ Marty?" I blink. That sounds vaguely familiar. I squint, trying so hard to force my brain to work through the thudding that echoes in my ear. I feel nauseous again.
I give up. "I can't... I don't know. Martijn... how far did we go?" I ask, embarrassed again. I pull his shirt down as far as I can, feeling so exposed.
Martijn grins. "Well... you wanted to go a lot farther than I did."
My eyes widen. "What - what does that mean. Martijn?" Martijn laughs.
I brush my hair out of my face, and when I see his eyes following the path of my hand, I bend over, quickly tugging my hair into a bun. I straighten back up and pull down a couple face-framers. Martijn's eyes change suddenly. Even from this distance, I can see as a storm brews inside his irises. My stomach flutters at his intense look.
In one fluid movement, he's off the bed and grabbed my face. I take a step back, not comfortable with kissing him without knowing what we did together last night, but he firmly turns my face to the side. "What the fuck is on your neck, Mad Dog?" He's so shirtless and so close, it's hard to focus.
I blink. "What do you mean?" I inquire, running my fingers over my neck. I can't feel anything. Pulling back from Martijn's grasp, I turn into the bathroom and lean over the sink, peering into the mirror. I have a little collection of hickeys scattered on my neck and collarbone. Martijn appears behind me in the mirror, watching me explore the marks with my fingers.
"That fucker," he mutters, and I whip around.
"What fucker?" I demand, grabbing his arm. He opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand, looking away. "Wait." Slowly, memories begin to return. Riding Bastian's motorcycle, sitting in the park drinking wine and watching the festival below us, kissing and... after that, I'm not sure. I know that if I had sex, it sure as hell wasn't with Martijn. I'm positive of that. I never would have done that after he left me sitting at Spinnin'.
But then... why am I wearing his shirt, why do I have no bra on? Martijn runs his hands down over my shoulders. "Are you okay?" I blink, coming back from the memories.
I brush past him and walk to my suitcase, realizing that I'm still upset at him for leaving me at Spinnin'. "I'm fine." I hate that I can't remember, but I'm not about to ask him to fill in the details. Grabbing the first clothes I see, I brush back past Martijn into the bathroom, shutting him out. I quickly tear his shirt off of me and change, brush my teeth, put on deodorant and mascara, and I'm out of the room. I pass Martijn as he sits on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He sits up as I pass him, but I ignore him as he calls my name and I leave the hotel room.
I need a walk. I exit the lobby and take a hard right - opposite as when I first got here. I stroll down the street and come to a break in the buildings where a bridge crosses the river. It's lined with a few short potted trees and plants and a cute little bench, and the sight of it in the late morning light makes me feel a little better. My head still hurts, but my nausea is gone. If I did have a one nighter with Bastian, I don't really care that much. I doubt I'll see him again, anyway.
I sit down on the bench, watching the water flow and boats pass under the bridge. It's a beautiful view. I tilt my head towards the sun. It really doesn't matter what happened with Martijn, either. I'll tell my parents that I got a contract and they'll just help me get a plane ticket home and I'll spend the summer writing music.
The thought of the contract and the thought of spending my summer writing music just sounds better than anything in the world. Sitting on the bench, a melody suddenly pops into my head. I hum it out loud, and it sounds beautiful. I reach into my pocket for my phone, but realize I left it in the hotel room. I only have my room key. Shoot.
I hum the melody to myself over and over as I nearly sprint back to the hotel. I thank my lucky stars that I didn't go too far, or I'd certainly have forgotten it by the time I get back. I push every thought from my head as I rush up the stairs after the elevator took to long to come down.
I tap the key against the door and push it open, rushing to the bedroom to find my phone on the bedside table. I see Martijn out of the corner of my eye and he starts to say "Hey" but I shush him loudly. I grab my phone, open a voice memo, and hum the notes into it before saving and closing it.
I feel a lot better after chilling on the bridge and taking in the day. "Hey," I say.
"Hey," he replies, grinning at what I just did.
"What?" I ask, embarrassed for the millionth time today.
"Nothing. I do that too. The singing into a voice memo thing. It works so well."
I grin. "I know, right? I do it wayyy too often and I can't tell you how often I've gotten crazy looks from people cause I'll do it in public, like, very loudly."
Martijn laughs. "Once you're a world-famous DJ, they can't laugh at you anymore cause you've earned you're fucking famous, you know?"
I giggle at his cockiness. "You're so cocky, Martijn. It's gonna bite you in the ass one day," I reply, laughing.
Martijn opens his mouth, pretending to be hurt, jumping out of the bed to stand in front of me with his arms crossed. "Well at least I'm not a lightweight that got drunk with some guy I hardly know and forgot everything that happened."
I laugh. "Oh, come on! I saw you in Boca. You were a party animal. I have a hard time believing that you've never, ever done that."
Martijn grins. "No, I haven't, because I can hold my liquor, Mad Dog."
I roll my eyes. "I'm a girl!"
He laughs, "Still."
I smirk, pursing my lips. "At least I don't leave a hot, sexy girl who's never been to Amsterdam," I say, flipping my hair exaggeratedly, "to go hang out with some other girl." I know it's risky to say this to him when she clearly meant a lot to him, but I can't help but pry a little bit. I want to know who she is. And... I'm a little jealous.
Martijn's eyes darken, and I see a memory pass over his countenance. "Damn, Mad Dog. That's kind of a cheap shot, but I guess you wouldn't know that."
I fold my arms. "I'm sorry, but you started it by calling me a lightweight. And you did leave me all by myself. That was kind of uncool, you know. It was raining and I haven't been here before. I could have gotten lost."
Martijn smirks unkindly. His good humour has left him. "Yeah, but you didn't. Instead you just took off with some guy on his motorcycle and let him get you drunk. You're so lucky I was here when you got home, do you know that, Mad Dog? He could have... done what that Dylan kid tried to do to you. That's twice that I've saved you from something terrible."
My eyes widen in realization, and Martijn's eyes do too, but for another reason.
"How do you know that Bastian has a motorcycle?" I ask suspiciously, pointing a finger at him.
Martijn shrugs, his eyes stormy. "He looks like the type of guy that would drive a motorcycle."
I shake my head even as he speaks. "No. No. How you do you know, Martijn?"
Martijn throws up his hands. "I saw you guys ride through Dam Square! I was with Elise and I saw you guys ride through the square! Why is this what you're picking on, Mad Dog? You were on a motorcycle with a stranger! You could have gotten hurt or killed!"
His apparent anger makes his accent thicker, and I can't help but feel attracted to him. Even though he's upset with me, he sounds incredibly protective.
Even so, I'm frustrated by his words and his anger. "Last time I checked, I'm in control of myself, Martijn. And I didn't need your help this time, anyway. Bastian is a nice guy. Nothing was going to happen! I had a lot because I wanted to. And I'm sorry if something happened between you and that chick that I don't know about but to be honest, how the hell would I know with the way you've been acting towards me for the past month?"
I rise up on my toes as I speak, but even so, my small frame is much shorter than his large one, so my head only reaches about up to his chin. Martijn looks down at me, somehow speechless as a result of my short tirade. He gazes into my eyes, and for a second I think he's about to kiss me. He leans down, and I resist the urge to meet him.
Suddenly he grabs his shirt from the bed and throws it on, before sliding on shoes and leaving.