I was silent on the way back to the hotel, lost in the storm of thoughts that was raging in my head. The guys were both still super pumped from the concert, and I knew that they could tell something was wrong with me, but I didn't feel like explaining to them why I was so down. They wouldn't have understood anyways. How could I have even put it into words properly without sounding absolutely insane?
"You sure that you're okay?" James asked. "You look like you had a horrible time or something."
"I'm fine," I said.
"Man, you're lucky as hell, Jessica looked our way the entire time, and yet you're here all sad and shit."
"Yeah, Tiffany barely looked at me—but man, she was so hot in person!" Jake said excitedly.
"Taeyeon got pretty close to me during the finale though, remember?"
"To you?"
"Yeah, to me!"
"Just you."
"Yeah."
"Not the crowd of people in between you and the edge of the stage?"
"Dude, I swear I was able to smell her perfume from where I was."
Jake looked at him, unimpressed.
"Anyways, John, we definitely gotta go again next year! And maybe actually line up so we could be at the very front next time."
Next year, I thought. There's always next year. That is, if they even decide to come back to New York. But with her busy life, would she even remember me out of all the people she's met? Why would she? She has no reason to, I'm just one out of the thousands of people that went to the concert.
Jake and James decided to go bar hopping again, but I declined. I felt bad that I was ruining the weekend for them, but I wasn't in the mood for anything. I just felt so heartbroken. Heartbroken by an international celebrity who barely knew me. It was as ridiculous as it sounded.
After trying to convince me for about 30 minutes, they finally gave up and left me alone in the hotel room. I ended up lying in bed, moping around for about an hour or so, replaying everything in my head over and over.
It was midnight by the time I checked my phone, and her face on my lock screen made it even worse for me. I couldn't believe that I actually felt like someone who just got dumped.
What the hell is wrong with me? This isn't normal. It's not normal to feel like this. I seriously need to get it together.
I decided to go back to the top floor, to the lounge where we saw each other instead of staying inside the hotel room all night. Truthfully, it wasn't the best idea since it would have had the opposite effect of taking my mind off of her, but maybe I didn't want to yet. Maybe I just wasn't ready. Maybe I just needed to feel all I needed to feel before I could let it go. Or maybe I'd see her at the fanmeet the next day and everything would be better. Just maybe.
For the next hour, I sat by myself on the chairs in front of the vending machines. Being there in that very spot was like watching a replay of my past in third person. I visualized our bodies as we stood next to each other, remembering the exact expression on her face as I handed her the bottle. It was one of the most adorable things I'd ever seen in my life. Then I watched myself walk away, and turning back when she asked me for my name. Everything was like a movie.
Like a movie, I thought. That's right, movies aren't real. They're fictional. And they have endings. Just like how our story was coming to an end.
I dragged myself back to the hotel room and jumped on the bed, rolling back and forth, trying to get myself to snap out of it.
Why am I so sad? Why am I so disappointed? I should be happy. I met her. Not even once, but three times. And she remembered who I was at the concert. How many people get to say that? How many people would have even dreamed of that happening? Why aren't I happy about it? Why do I want more? What is more, though? What do I even want?
After a lot of tossing, turning, and groaning, I grew thirsty and realized that there wasn't any water in the hotel room, so I decided to go back up to the vending machines again.
I can't believe I sat up there for an hour and didn't think to get anything. This girl has me completely messed up and all we said to each other was our names.
As I stood in the elevator, my mind went back on forth, debating whether or not I even wanted to go all the way back up 50-something floors for a drink when I could have just ordered room service.
Maybe I'm not even actually thirsty. Maybe I'm just coming up with any excuse possible to go back up there so I could sit and loathe some more. When did I become so good at self torture?
When the elevator doors opened, I walked down the hall and turned the corner, and to my surprise, there was a girl sitting on one of the chairs with her back against me. All I could see was her long brown hair, and that she was on her phone, alone.
Why would anyone be up here at this hour? Oh, maybe she also fell in love with someone at the concert and now she's here mourning the death of her hopes and dreams, like me.
Just then, she turned around, and it wasn't who I expected it to be. Not at all.
It was Jessica.
She looked back at me with her mouth slightly open in surprise, and I got so lightheaded that I thought I was going to faint.
This can't be real, right? There's no way. How is this possible? It can't be. Things like this literally don't happen in real life. Or is this a prank? Am I being pranked? Are the cameras—
"John," she said, in a soft, delicate voice.
"H-hey," I said, shocked that I could even speak.
Seriously? Is this really Jessica? And she actually remembers my name? No, this has to be a dream. I'm going to wake up any minute now.
My mind went completely blank. We both looked at each other without saying a word. It was like time had frozen still. My heart was fluttering like crazy; it felt like I was staring at my lover from another life. But she was far from it. She was a celebrity, someone I had adored for years, and no matter what, I was still only just a stranger to her in the end.
"What are you doing here by yourself?" I finally asked, breaking the silence.
She put her phone down and turned her body around. "Me? Oh, I just wanted to be alone."
"Oh—s-sorry, I'll leave then."
"No—don't—I mean—you don't have to."
"But you said..."
"Sorry, I meant—I wanted to be alone. But not right now." She suddenly stopped talking and shut her eyes, like she was embarrassed and didn't know what she was saying.
"So...I can stay?"
"Yes—please," she said, her eyes still closed. "I mean—not please—but if you want...you can. I meant like, please...feel free...to not leave...if that's not something you want to do..."
"Okay..." I hesitantly walked closer.
Is she drunk? Why is she stumbling her words so much? Is that why she's here by herself? To hide from everyone because she drank?
"So, um...what are you doing up here?" she asked, finally opening her eyes.
I looked at the vending machines. "I...uh...was going to buy some water."
"Oh—sorry."
"For what?"
"For distracting you."
"...From buying water?"
"Yeah...I guess." She made a confused face and then quickly pulled out her wallet. "Do you need singles? I have some this time."
"No, I'm fine, but thank you. I still have a lot from yesterday."
We were quiet for a bit, having run out of things to say, partially because I was in complete disbelief that I was even speaking to her, but more so that she was being so shy and nervous that it was rubbing off of me. If I knew this was going to happen, I would have had a list of questions ready.
But I really didn't know what to say to continue the conversation, so I looked around and pretended to admire the plants around us.
"These are really nice. I wonder if they're real."
Really, John? That was the best you could come up with? Plants?
"Mm, I think so," she said softly. "They look pretty real."
This is your only chance, think of something to talk about. Anything but plants. Literally anything else.
"So how long have you been up here?" I asked.
There you go. That's better.
"Not that long, maybe 15 or 20 minutes? You?" She closed her eyes again and scrunched her face.
I smiled. "I just got here."
"I knew that, sorry." She exhaled and softly cleared her throat. "So did you have a good time?"
"A good time?"
"Sorry—at the concert. Did you enjoy the show?"
"Oh yeah, it was really good. It was amazing, actually. You were amazing."
"Thanks..." she said, twirling her hair around her finger. "Was it your first time at SM Town?"
"Yeah, I can usually never get tickets, but my friends got lucky this year. What about you? Is it your first time—" I stopped myself.
John, you are a certified idiot.
"No, it's not my first time," she said, her lips curling slightly.
"Yeah...I knew that, sorry."
"But you..." She stopped and closed her eyes again.
"I...what?" I asked, waiting for her to finish the sentence.
She hesitated for a bit, like she didn't want to say it. "You left early, right?"
My heart skipped a beat. She knew. Was everything all real? Was she really looking at me the whole time?
"Yeah, I stepped out for some air and couldn't get back in before it ended. Well, I was there, but not where I was before. I was all the way in the back during the finale."
"Oh, okay. I see. Well, thanks for supporting us..."
"Yeah, of course..."
We were both quiet again, and it was getting kind of awkward just standing around, so I took a seat on one of the red chairs adjacent to hers.
"I thought you were getting a drink," she said.
"Oh—right—" I quickly stood up.
"No no, it's fine if you want to sit—I didn't mean to—"
"No, you're right, I do want water. That's why I came up here in the first place," I said, walking up to the vending machines. "Do you want anything?"
She smiled gently and shook her head. "No, I'm okay, thank you."
I nodded and pressed a few buttons, almost mindlessly, and watched as the machine made a whirling noise before dropping a bottle of Dasani down. But instead of falling sideways, it dropped diagonally and ended up being stuck against the glass.
Seriously? What are the odds?
I tried to reach for it from underneath, but my arm wouldn't fit past the opening.
This is so annoying, now she's going to watch me look like an idiot trying to get this out, I thought, tapping the machine from the side, knowing full well that it wouldn't have any effect.
"Is it stuck?" she asked from behind me.
"Yeah," I said, quickly putting another two dollars in. "But I think if I buy another one it'll knock it down."
But the moment the second bottle dropped, instead of sending the first one down, it landed right on top of it and didn't budge.
You've got to be kidding me.
"Are they both stuck now?" she asked, walking towards me.
"Should I try another one?" I said, hitting the side of the machine harder.
"You could, but I feel like it's going to get stuck, too," I said, standing right next to me. "It's like jammed here."
"I don't know if I'm thirsty enough for this," I lied. Just the thought of being right next to her made my throat tighten up.
She carefully inspected the opening. "I think I can get it."
"No no, it's fine, you don't have to—"
"Don't worry, I have smaller hands than you."
That's not what I'm worried about.
She put her hand inside the machine and tried to push the bottles, and for a second I thought it was going to work, but her arm just couldn't bend enough to make the corner.
"It's really okay," I said, feeling guilty that she was putting in so much energy for me, especially after performing an entire concert.
"Am I close?" she asked, not being able to see it herself.
"Yes, but I don't think you'll be able to reach it."
I could see her fingers touch the end of the bottle, but not enough for her to grip onto it.
"I can feel it," she said. "Almost got it...there—wait, nevermind—"
"Don't hurt yourself, it's not worth it."
"So close..."
"I mean, it's moving, kind of," I said, hovering over the glass.
I tried to focus on the task at hand, but my eyes were completely distracted by her.
"It's not budging though, right?"
"No," I said. "It's really fine, you don't have to keep trying. What if your arm gets stuck in there?"
She finally gave up and pulled her arm out of the machine. "I guess you and this water weren't meant to be," she said, standing back up.
"Yeah, I guess not."
"There must be another machine nearby," she said, fixing her dress.
I nodded. "I think I saw one in the lobby. By the way, are you...by any chance...going somewhere tonight?"
Is it okay to ask that? Am I being too nosy? She's wearing a black dress, so I figured maybe she was supposed to be at a red carpet event or something.
She shook her head. "No, it's a free night for us. Why?"
"Oh, I was just asking because you're all dressed up."
"Oh...this...I bought it yesterday, so I just really wanted to wear it," she said, looking down at her dress.
"It looks really good on you."
She bit her upper lip and didn't look at me. "Thank you."
I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth fill my chest. Everything about her was so adorable, I would've never guessed that she was just like any other girl behind the wall of being an idol.
Maybe it stemmed from the realization that she wasn't all that different from a normal girl, but at that very moment, I felt daring. I felt like there wasn't anything left for me to lose. Maybe I was dreaming, maybe I wasn't, but whether or not it was real, I had to do something.
Do it now or else you'll die an old man filled with regret.
I cleared my throat and fixed my composure. "Well, Miss Jessica," I said, drawing in as much confidence from every corner of my body as I could.
"Yes?" She looked up and tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Since it's a free night for you...and I'm not really doing anything...and this whole charade didn't work out...I'd like to buy you a drink."
"A drink," she repeated.
"Yes, a drink."
"Like...a water from a vending machine?" She smiled and looked at the two bottles stacked on top of each other.
"No, a real one."
"A real one?"
"Well, you know, like maybe at the bar on the 3rd floor."
I watched carefully as her smile slowly grew wider.
"Wow," she said, covering her mouth.
"W-what?"
Did I go too far? Shit, was that the line that I wasn't supposed to cross?
She kept smiling, ignoring my question.
"What is it? What are you wowing about?" I asked.
"Was this all part of a really well thought out pickup line?"
"No—"
"How'd you make it so that it got stuck like this?" she said jokingly, tapping on the glass. "Wow, that was actually really clever."
"I didn't, it really—"
"I'm just teasing you," she said, unable to contain her smile.
"Oh." I finally breathed. "Well then, what's it gonna be?"
"I need to think about this for a second," she said, holding her chin. "I've honestly never had a fan ask me if he could buy me a drink at the bar before."
"Never? Is it because they never get a chance to?"
She couldn't stop cheesing and shook her head. "Maybe that, but maybe also because they would never expect me to say yes."
"So is that a no?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"I never said no."
"But you also didn't say yes."
I didn't know exactly when the ice broke, but I suddenly felt so comfortable talking to her, and all my nervousness completely went away. She also seemed to have loosened up as opposed to before and couldn't contain herself from smiling the whole time.
"First you distract me from buying water for myself, and then you failed to help me get said water, and now you won't let me buy you a drink..." I said jokingly, sitting back down on the chair.
"Failed to help you? Am I a professional vending machine technical support specialist?"
"No, because if you were then you would've got it."
"Hey, I was close! I just didn't want my arm to get stuck in the machine and end up on the news."
"I could have saved you."
"Oh? Are you a professional vending machine technical support specialist?"
"No—"
"Right, because if you were then you wouldn't have needed me."
I smiled. "Fine, you got me. So can I buy you a drink now?"
She sat down next to me. "You bought me a drink yesterday."
"Well, you did it first."
"I wasn't trying to, you were just taking too long." She smiled again.
"Oh, so you just wanted me to be done and over with."
"Yes," she said, covering her mouth. "Something like that..."
"I'm so heartbroken. You know I really cherished that cup."
"Hey, I was late!"
"Well, you have time now, right? You said it's a free night."
"And you think I would want to spend my one free night at a bar with you?"
"Isn't that better than being up here with me?"
"I was up here without you—before you came."
"But then you didn't want me to leave."
"I didn't say that."
"You kind of implied it."
"Or maybe you just misinterpreted it."
"Did I?"
"Maybe."
"Oh, so I should've left."
"Sure, if you wanted to. Isn't that what I said?"
"I didn't want to, though."
"Then you should've stayed."
"I did stay."
"I know you did, I'm still facing the consequences of that."
"I stayed because you wanted me to."
"No, I think you stayed because you wanted to."
"I wanted to because you wanted me to."
"Did I though?"
"That's what you said."
"No, I don't think I said that."
"Are we going to keep going in circles and avoiding the subject?"
She smiled and shook her head. "You know, if we get caught together it would be a disaster, right? The whole internet would know within 5 minutes."
"We shouldn't get caught then."
"No one chooses to get caught. It just happens."
"The chances of any paparazzi being up at a bar in a hotel at 1am is so close to none, and most of the fans here are underaged too. But if you're not comfortable—"
"I'd love to, John." She smiled brightly.
Those words stayed frozen in my mind for what felt like forever. It was like they were being replayed over and over again, each time just as unbelievable as the previous. I was frozen in my seat, completely shocked by the answer to the question that I somehow managed to ask.
Frozen, in front of the Ice Princess.
It was chilly in the elevator for some reason, so I put my jacket over her shoulders. We slowly sneaked our way downstairs, just to make sure her managers wouldn't be able to see us—if there were any. When the coast was clear, we headed towards the bar that was at the very end of the hall.
"G'evening sir, what can I get for you and the beautiful miss?" a bartender with a large mustache asked, wiping a glass with a towel.
"A whiskey on the rocks for me, please. And..."
"Two, please," she added, smiling innocently.
I looked at her, surprised. For some reason, I expected her to go for a mixed girly drink, or maybe a glass of wine, but I guess I didn't know her at all.
"I didn't know you drank hard liquor," I said.
"I don't." She smiled. "First time for everything, right?"
We got to know each other better, as if we were on a real date. Maybe it was a real date. What was stopping it from being a real date? What was the difference between a real date and a fake date? I asked her out and she said yes, so it was a real date, right?
"So when was the last time you went on a date with a fan?" I asked, twirling my glass around.
"Never." She took her first sip and scrunched her face. "Wait, you don't think this is a date, do you?"
"N-no," I said. "Just a random question."
She smirked. "Oh, okay."
"What goes through your mind when you think of something like that anyways? Going on a date with a fan."
"Hmm..." She adjusted her legs and turned her body towards me. "It sounds a little crazy, and probably not a good idea."
"But if you were to do it, what's a place where you would be comfortable going together?"
She looked around at the fairly empty room. "A hotel bar with no one around is pretty good."
I smiled. "And what would you consider to be a good date?"
"One where we don't get caught."
"What's the worst case scenario that would make you leave?"
"If he keeps treating the date like an interview," she said, laughing.
I learned things about her that I never knew before. She didn't like speaking on camera. She was often overly tired and didn't get much time to rest. Her dream as a kid wasn't to be a singer, but to be a fashion designer and she really hoped to start her own fashion line after the idol life was over.
I told her how my parents were in San Francisco, and she said that she visited often, whenever she could. For some reason, hearing that it made me happy, even though I didn't live in the west coast anymore. I guess the thought of her visiting my hometown made me feel closer to her. It just made her feel so much more normal to me.
"I still can't believe we were born in the same hospital," she said, twirling the ice around with her finger.
I laughed. "Is it that surprising? I feel like a lot of people who were born in San Francisco were born in that hospital."
"I know, but it's like...weird, you know? Like 22 years ago, we were in the same place and now we're in the same place."
"Are you drunk?" I asked, pretending to examine her face.
"No, think about it! 22 years ago—wait, how old are you?"
"I was born in 1989."
She gasped. "Wait, me too!"
"I know that."
"Yes, but I didn't. What month?"
"May," I lied, pretending to be younger than her.
"Oh, you're going to have to call me noona then."
"It's only a month."
"I'm still older than you," she said, taking her last sip.
"I'm just kidding, I'm older than you, I was actually born in March. You're going to have to call me oppa."
"I don't believe you, show me your ID," she demanded.
I smiled and pulled out my wallet, handing her my driver's license.
"John Jonghyun Song," she said, slowly reading my name. "March 9, 1989..."
"Told you," I said, taking it back.
"You have the same birthday as—"
"Taeyeon." I smiled.
"Yeah...well, one month, that's not really oppa status, sorry." She tried to take another sip, only to realize that there was nothing left.
We kept talking and drinking until we were on our third glass. She kept making a face after every sip, and it was so cute I couldn't help but smile every time. I could tell that she was getting tipsy, so I told her that it would be our last glass. She agreed that it probably was not a good idea to continue.
"What's the worst date you've ever had?" she asked.
"Hmm...let's see...when I was a freshman in college, I had coffee with this girl and she kept talking about DBSK the whole time. Like the entire time."
"Yeah?" She laughed. "Does that really happen?"
"It happened to me."
"And you don't talk about Girls' Generation on your dates?"
"Oh, I do. I have to make sure they don't have a negative opinion about my favorite member, or else I just get up and leave."
"Who's your favorite member?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Yoona."
She furrowed her brows. "Really?"
"I'm kidding."
"Who is it then?"
"You know who," I said, looking right at her.
"I don't." She smiled. "Tell me."
"Taeyeon."
"Alright, I'm leaving, have a good night," she scoffed.
"It's you, of course," I said, holding onto her hand without realizing it until a few seconds later. Or maybe I did, but I was too tipsy to care.
"So have you ever been on a date where someone didn't like Jessica?" she asked, her fingers gently holding onto mine.
"Yes, actually. It was like 3 years ago, she said your bangs were ugly and I told her she was ugly."
She laughed. "Did you really?"
"I swear I'm not making this up."
"And that wasn't your worst date ever?"
"It was my second worst date ever."
"If you ask me, that should've been #1."
"No, because at least she liked Taeyeon."
She let go of my hand and pulled back. "I'm leaving. I'll call Taeyeon to come take my place for you."
"I'm kidding!" I laughed, finishing the rest of my glass. "What was your worst date?"
"Well..." She put her glass down on the counter. "It was when I was a trainee. We sneaked out at night to meet each other at a dessert place. I remember Sunny and Hyoyeon helped me climb out of a window." She laughed and covered her face with her hand.
"I didn't know you were that rebellious."
"I wasn't, it was my first time. Anyways, when we got there, three of our managers were sitting right by the entrance and we had no idea because we were wearing shades at night. So we walked inside and sat down, and took off our disguise, and they were looking right at us."
"So then what? Did you get in trouble?"
"Yes, but for going to eat dessert, not going on a date," she said, laughing. "They were just sitting there watching us the whole time, so it really was the worst date ever."
We finished the rest of our drinks, and I thought about taking her back to her room, but I knew that it was a bad idea. That would've been the best way to get caught together for sure.
She put her hand over her head. "I think three was too many."
I looked at my watch. It was past 2am, and I started to worry if she would get in trouble for going out to drink.
"Oh no," she said, digging through her wallet. "I didn't bring my room key with me. I think I left it in my bag..."
"What now?" I asked, nervously.
"I don't know," she said.
Her sudden change in tone of voice made me nervous.
"Are you sharing a room with anyone?"
"Yeah, I'm rooming with Sunny...but I really don't want to wake her up and have her question where I was. And she'll for sure smell the alcohol on me." She paused and looked at me for a bit.
"Do you—ah—nevermind..."
"Do I what?" I asked.
"Do you have a room here?"
I froze, feeling a little embarrassed. "Um, yeah, but my two other friends are in there."
Although they did promise to leave if I brought you back...Wait, what am I saying? That's absolutely not happening.
"Ah, what to do..." she said to herself in Korean.
"Can you ask the front desk for a spare key?"
"I could...but we actually already asked for two extra keys earlier because Sunny lost the original two. So if I request another one, it's going show up on the bill and my manager is going to be suspicious."
"Oh...right..."
She shut her eyes for a few seconds. "Can I ask you for a big favor?"
"What is it?"
"If I give you my credit card, can you book a new room for me? I'm kind of scared of going down there, in case someone sees me."
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you, I'm really sorry for—"
"Don't mention it, think of it as me repaying you for trying to get my waters from the vending machine."
"But I couldn't do it."
"I know you're not a vending machine support specialist, but it's the thought that counts."
She smiled and nodded.
I hurried down to the lobby to look for the front desk, not even fully processing what was happening myself. I wasn't completely sober, but I felt an adrenaline rush go through me. I needed to find a room that was as high up as possible, so no one would be there.
"We only have our presidential suite left on the 48th floor," the receptionist said. "It's $2,000 for tonight, is that okay?"
Shit, she didn't say how much she was willing to spend on it. Am I supposed to just charge her card no matter what the price is? Screw it. I'll pay for it. It's not like I'd ever have to pay for a room for her ever again.
I handed him my credit card and he inputted it into the computer.
"Do you need one or two keys?"
"Just one is fine, thank you."
"Checkout is at 11am," he said.
"Thank you."
When I got back up to the bar, Jessica had her head down over the counter, and I was afraid that she'd pass out.
"Are you okay?" I asked, helping her up.
"Yes, I'm okay, just overdid it." She sounded so sweet even when she was intoxicated. "Did you get it?"
I handed the card back to her. "I didn't know how much you wanted to spend on the room. There was only one room left and it was $2000, so I just paid for it."
"You what?"
"Don't worry about it. Let's go," I said, helping her up.
"I'll write you a check when I get back home," she said, holding onto my hand.
"It's fine."
"No, you're crazy, John. Don't be crazy."
"When's the last time a fan paid for your hotel room?" I asked jokingly.
"The same time I went on a date with one, apparently."
I closed the tab and took her to the elevator. She grabbed onto my arm when we got inside, and it was so surreal I was sure that I was going to wake up at any moment. I couldn't believe that Jessica, of all the people in the world, was clinging onto my arm.
The ride from the 3rd floor to the 48th floor was quite long, and halfway through, it finally hit me that I just went on a date with Jessica. It actually happened.
She put her head on my shoulder, and I wanted the moment to last forever, even though I knew that she wouldn't have done it if she was sober. Or would she have? I wasn't in the right state of mind to argue with myself.
We walked to the room and I tried to cover her with my jacket just in case anyone was around. It took a few tries and a split second of panic that the key wasn't working, but I opened the door and helped her take her heels off. It was an extremely spacious and beautiful suite, possibly the most expensive rooms I'd ever be in for the rest of my life, although it was a little chilly.
"Aren't they going to look for you?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I texted my manager and told him that I was going to stay at my friend's place for the night. They know who she is, so it'll be fine. He wasn't too happy at first, but I promised to make it to the fanmeet tomorrow on time."
I nodded. But knowing that she lied because I asked her to go drink with me made me feel horrible, no matter how much I enjoyed our time together.
The least I could do is make sure she doesn't get a hangover, I thought.
I went over to the fridge to see if there was any water and to my surprise, there wasn't.
$2,000 and we still have to go up to the vending machines?
I headed towards the door. "I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I'm going to get you water, you need it."
"Where?"
"The vending machines."
"The one that's stuck?" she said, smirking.
"Oh...right. The lobby, then."
"How about we just call room service?"
She picked up the phone and called the front desk.
Right. Why didn't I think of that? I'm not that drunk, am I?
It only took about three minutes for room service to show up at the door. A middle-aged man handed me a tray with four fancy bottles and two glasses, and I brought everything over and placed them on the desk next to where she was sitting after giving him his tip.
"Here. Drink it all, or else you'll have a hangover tomorrow," I said, pouring her a full glass.
She nodded and started drinking. A little bit of water dripped from the glass and she shook it off of her hand. Without even realizing what I was doing, I leaned over and helped her wipe her mouth with my sleeve. Our eyes locked again and I quickly moved away.
"Do you need anything else? If not, I'll get going so you can get enough sleep for tomorrow."
"I think I'm okay," she said quietly. "Thank you again, I really owe you. I promise I'll write you a check for the room."
I smiled. "Good night."
I gave her the key and turned to leave, but she reached for my hand.
"Wait," she said softly.
I froze the moment her warm, soft fingers gripped mine for the third time that night.
"Yes?"
"Can you stay?"