Jean opened her eyes and felt like her throat and mouth were on fire. She couldn't even swallow, and she saw the bottle of water on her nightstand. She grabbed it and pressed it to her lips, the cold water soothing her dry throat.
A few hours later, she was feeling slightly better. She wondered where Jasmine was. The sun had illuminated more of the room through the window, and she looked at the chestnut dresser in the corner. Confusion began to set in as she realized she wasn't in Jasmine's room. In fact, she didn't recognize her surroundings. She looked around and realized she was lying in a bed she didn't recognize, in a room she didn't recognize.
She racked her brain for anything that happened the night before. She remembered getting to the bar with Jasmine, and she remembered greeting Bret, kissing him on the cheek.
Bret...
"No," she whispered to herself, looking around. This had to be his house. She couldn't remember leaving the bar with him, or how she got here, but this had to be where she was. She remembered the character she was trying to portray, and being more promiscuous around him. She knew she had too much to drink, but she didn't think she would take it this far.
She pulled the covers back and sat up in bed. Somehow she didn't have a headache. What had happened to her last night? She knew she had a lot to drink, but her memory was completely absent. She couldn't remember ever experiencing anything like this before. She tried to remember when her memories ended, and everything was a blur after walking into the bar with Bret.
Had he done something to her? Her heart started to race quicker as the pieces started to fall together. She had gotten herself so drunk and put herself in the hands of a stranger. Now she woke up in the bedroom of a stranger with absolutely no memories. It didn't take a much thought to figure out what most likely happened here.
She felt herself starting to panic. Not again. How could she let this happen again? The memories of the night that she had worked for eight years to forget came flooding back to her.
You set yourself up, her mom had said. What'd you think was going to happen?
She threw back the covers as her breathing quickened and she jumped out of bed. She paced back and forth, her hands over her mouth as she tried to calm herself down. Not here, Jean. Don't lose it until you know where you are.
She put her hands on her stomach to try to focus on taking in deep breaths when she realized she was wearing an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. They were definitely boy clothing. She was clearly at a boy's house. A boy she didn't know. It was mostl likely Bret, but it could also be Doug. The fact that she was wearing clothes was a good sign. Maybe she changed into pajamas after the bar? Somebody was thinking about her wellbeing enough to loan her some. She eyed the water bottle that was sitting on the nightstand. Also a good sign.
She tried to distract herself from letting her mind run away with what might have happened to just trying to figure out how to get home. Looking around the room, she saw her own clothes from the night before neatly folded on an armchair, her wedge shoes sitting neatly on the floor next to them. Her bra was still on, so that must mean that it never came off. She didn't see Bret as the kind to respectfully put her stuff neatly in a corner where it could be easily found. Something wasn't adding up.
Jean soon realized her purse was not around. That meant her phone was missing. She needed to call Jasmine and figure out what had happened. She slowly sat on the edge of the bed, trying to remember if she had even worn a purse. Did she put her phone in her pocket? She walked over to the stack of clothes to check, but had no luck.
She turned to the closed bedroom door. This was her reality. She was in a stranger's place with absolutely no memory of what happened the night before. She had no phone to call for help, no money, and no sense of direction.
She had two options. Walk out the door and look for whoever's house this was, more than likely Bret, and ask for a ride home, or start walking, barefoot, until something looked familiar.
Neither option was great.
Jean decided to leave her clothes. The walk of shame was already bad enough, carrying wedges and a crop top in her arms was all the more embarrassing. She put her hand on the doorknob and her ear against the door to see if she could hear anything.
She felt her eyes start to grow moist but she blinked the tears away. Now was not the time to freak out. This was her reality and she needed to push through.
She opened the door to face another door across the hall that was closed. She looked to her right to see one door slightly open, which looked like another bedroom. To her left opened up into a living room.
Jean slowly crept from the room she was in into the living room. It was nice, not at all like the college homes she had been in before where a ping pong table took up most of the family room. There was a television on a wooden entertainment center, a coffee table, even a few paintings on the wall that tied the room together. On the couch was a pillow and a blanket thrown across it, with a glass of water on the table beside it. However, there was no sign of anyone else around. She stood for a moment and listened to see if she could hear anything; a shower running, footsteps. She was only greeted with silence.
She stood frozen. She was at an absolute loss for what to do. She could sit and wait for whoever to show up, or she could leave and see if anything looked familiar. She decided to at least step outside and see if she could get a gauge for her surroundings.
She quietly opened the front door, the brightness of day making her squint as she gazed across the front lawn. It was a bigger yard than she expected. The cold morning air hit her suddenly, and she crossed her arms as her bare feet hit the cold concrete of the porch.
"Good morning, Sunshine."
Jean leapt a foot in the air and fell back into the screen door. She looked to her right to see Shawn Lewis sitting in a chair, holding a mug of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. She stared at his face, her jaw hung open as words evaded her.
Shawn? Shawn? She wrecked her brain for any possible scenario where this would somehow make sense, but she couldn't.
"How are you feeling?" Shawn asked, leaning forward to set his coffee on the porch railing and set the newspaper down on the bench beside him.
"F-fine," Jean stammered, suddenly aware of how completely dreadful she must look at this moment. Shawn himself was wearing athletic pants and a sweatshirt, his hair tousled everywhere like he had just woken up too.
"Thought I could read the paper while waiting for you to wake up. Thought it'd be weird if you woke up and I was asleep." He made a face. "Not that this wasn't already going to be weird."
Jean barely heard a word he said. "You read the paper?" she managed to say. What?
Shawn smiled, obviously not expecting her response. "Yeah, every Sunday it gets delivered. We don't know why, and we called to try to make it stop, but it always comes. So I gave in and started reading it."
She was stunned. "Why am I here?"
"Oh, that," Shawn said as if he'd forgotten, pushing himself to his feet and turning towards Jean. "Do you remember anything from last night?"
Jean wracked her brain for any memory of Shawn, but couldn't. "Were you at the bar?" She was so confused.
"Yes."
"What happened to Jasmine?"
"Jasmine?" Shawn asked, leaning against the porch railing. "I don't know of anyone named Jasmine, but you were with Bret."
What the heck had happened to Jasmine last night? Jean remembered walking in with her, and then not seeing her the rest of the night. Had she left with Doug?
"Is Bret a friend of yours?" Jean asked.
Shawn laughed in surprise, and then cleared his throat when he saw the pure confusion spread across her face. "No, absolutely not." He was going to add that Bret was the reason for the bruise that was forming on the side of his face, but figured she was overwhelmed enough.
Jean ran her hands through her hair, a lump forming in her throat at the pure chaos that was this situation. Of all people to see her in this state right now, it had to be Shawn Lewis. If her high school self had known that this would one day be her future, she would have been never believed it. She was mortified.
"If you're not his friend, then how...?" she spoke deeper and quieter to try to keep her voice from cracking. She had never been more humiliated in her life.
"How'd you end up here?" Shawn finished the question. It was hard to explain without embarrassing her more than she already was. It was only a matter of time before she found out. "It's a long story, but basically, it all boils down to Bret not being a stand up guy, and me just being at the right place at the right time to help. And not knowing where you lived, or who any of your friends are, or anything about you, really. So I really do apologize for freaking you out and bringing you back here, but I was at a loss."
Jean crossed her arms and looked to the ground. Bret wasn't a stand up guy. It probably didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out, but she took the liberty of getting wasted and trusting a complete stranger to look out for her best interest. She truly had a knack for getting herself in these situations.
"I'm sorry," Jean said, overcome with everything and not able to hold it in anymore. Her voice cracked and she crossed her arms and looked towards the ground. She would give anything to not be here right now. "Wow, I'm sorry."
Shawn stepped forward and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "No reason to be sorry," he said gently. "I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the house for a few moments and Jean wiped her tears on her sleeve. She considered breaking for it and running away to save herself from this humiliation, but without her shoes, she knew she wouldn't get very far.
He came back with a tissue box in his hand and she laughed to herself as she took one from the box. He smiled and leaned against the side of the house as he looked at her.
"There you go with that laughing again." Shawn said.
Jean wiped her eyes. "Nervous habit."
"Am I making you nervous?"
She looked to Shawn. "I woke up in your bed this morning and I don't know you."
Shawn smiled. "If it makes you feel better, I slept on the couch."
"Thanks." She shook her head and crumpled the tissue into her hand. "I just don't know what to do. I don't have my phone, my purse is missing. I don't have my car. I don't know where I am."
"That is a predicament," Shawn said. "It's a good thing I have my phone, my purse isn't missing, I have my car and I know exactly where we are."
"No," Jean said. "You've done enough. I can figure this out."
Shawn held out the tissue box to Jean again with a smirk. "Tell me how you plan on doing that."
She took a second before unfolding her uncrossed arms to take another tissue. "Walking."
"I'll tell you what we're going to do." Shawn smiled and looked over head into the distance. "We're gonna get in my car, and we're going to drive you back to the bar to get your lost things. Then I'm going to take you home, and you can take a long, hot shower, drink a lot of water, take a nap and forget that any of this ever happened."
Despite her strong urge to keep protesting, she knew that she was stuck and at the mercy of Shawn, and no matter how uncomfortable it might be, he was her best option in getting past this whole mess.
He looked down at her feet. "There's absolutely no way I'm letting you walk, so you might as well just say yes now."
Her eyes met his, and this time she didn't look away. He was so kind, but still had a confidence about him. Even though she didn't know him, she somehow knew that she could trust him.
"Okay," she said, her mouth hinting at a smile.
She went inside to gather the rest of her things. She carried her shoes beside her. Shawn opened the passenger door for her, and she tried to remember if anyone had ever done that for her before. Anthony surely didn't.
As Jean waited for Shawn to walk around the car, she realized it was the first time in months Anthony wasn't the first thought in her mind upon waking up. He hadn't crossed her mind since waking up. Maybe she was starting to heal.
She watched as Shawn knelt down into his car and placed his keys into the ignition. He pushed his brown hair away from his face. She watched his profile and saw that he hadn't changed much since high school. She remembered every girl being in love with him, whether they knew him personally or not, and she would imagine that not much had changed. Not only was he handsome, but he had always had this maturity about him that attracted everyone to him. Jean couldn't help but feel honored to be a passenger in his vehicle. Jasmine would lose it when she found out.
As they drove, Shawn turned the radio on low, which eliminated the need to talk in order to fill the silence. Jean was grateful, as she really didn't know what to say. She looked out the window and closed her eyes, telling herself that this would all be over soon. She kept thinking of the night before and tried to remember all she had to drink before her memory stopped. It was truly as if she had lost an entire night from her life.
"Shawn," she said quietly, turning towards him after sitting in silence for a while. "What was I like when you saw me at the bar?"
Shawn glanced over at Jean before turning his eyes back to the road. "What do you mean?"
"I just don't remember anything, and that's not like me. I know I drank a lot, but I think I'd remember something. The fact that I don't terrifies me."
Shawn hesitated for a moment. She could tell me was thinking of a response that wouldn't embarrass her.
"Be honest," she whispered.
"Look," Shawn said. "I don't want to scare you, but that bar is notorious for drinks getting tampered with. Just based on how you were acting, I would not be surprised if something happened to yours."
Jean remembered Bret getting a drink from the bar for her. "You think Bret did it?"
Shawn shook his head. "I don't know him very well. I'm not going to say he did, it was a busy night and honestly anything could have happened. You just had very little control of your muscles, and you were very dizzy and disoriented. The fact that you don't remember anything has me concerned as well."
Jean felt the tears threatening her eyes again and she turned to look out the window. "I'm such an idiot, I shouldn't have been drinking. It's my own fault."
"Hey," Shawn said, turning into the parking lot of the bar and placing the car in park. He turned towards her. "Don't do that to yourself. We've all been there. We've all had nights we drank too much."
She covered her face with her hands. "Did you ever wake up in a stranger's bed with no memory of how you got there?"
Shawn leaned his head back against the seat and smiled softly at her. "No, but thankfully you ended up in the bed of a stranger whose looking out for your best interest."
Jean laughed softly and looked Shawn in the eyes. "I don't get it, what's in it for you? You don't even know me."
Shawn smirked. "I don't want to live in a world where we're incapable of thinking outside ourselves."
While Jean was processing what he said, he took the keys out of his ignition.
"I'm gonna go inside and see if they have your things," Shawn said. "You wait here."
Before she could say a word, Shawn was out of the car and walking across the parking lot. There was one other car in the parking lot, and she thought maybe they were getting ready for lunch. They surely weren't open at this hour.
The door was locked, and she watched as Shawn started knocking on the door. He looked back over his shoulder at her and shrugged before turning back to continue knocking. After a minute, a man appeared on the other side, looking rather annoyed before twisting the lock and opening the door. He said something instantly to Shawn, who put his hands up in defense and said something in response. Whatever he said, the man's narrowed eyebrows let up and he laughed out loud. He nodded his head in understanding and waved for Shawn to come inside.
How did he do that?
After a couple minutes, Jean couldn't help but get anxious. What if her purse wasn't there? What if Bret had it? She would have to get all new credit cards, a license, a new phone. She didn't even know where to begin. Not to mention her house and car keys were in the purse she wore.
She finally saw the door open and Shawn emerged with her black crossbody purse in his hand. She sighed in relief as she watched him turn back to the man and shake his hand before he shut and locked the door behind Shawn. Shawn turned his eyes back in Jean's direction as he walked towards the car and held her purse above his head in victory. She couldn't help but laugh.
"Thank goodness," she whispered as Shawn opened the door and handed the purse to her. "I don't know what I would have done. Thank you."
"Of course," Shawn said. "Check inside to make sure it's all there."
Shawn started the car and Jean told him which direction to head back to her house. She pulled out her car keys and her wallet, and then finally her phone. It was alive, and she saw she had 10 missed calls from Jasmine alone.
"Gosh," Jean whispered. "I'm surprised there's no amber alert out for me."
She saw the various text messages from Jasmine asking where she was. Where did Jasmine end up? How did she disappear the night before? Did her drink get tampered with too? She decided she would call her when she got home.
She quickly typed out a text to Jasmine telling her she was safe and she would call her soon.
She put her phone down and sighed deeply. She just wanted this all to be behind her.
"Everything okay?" Shawn asked.
Her phone buzzed in response, and before she could answer Shawn, she looked to see Jasmine had sent her a video.
Are you with Shawn Lewis?!?!?
Jean's heart stopped when she read those words. How did she know? She could feel herself starting to get sick as she reached to click to play the video. The audio started to fill in the car.
"Jean," Shawn said, his voice more concerned. He looked over at her, but she couldn't take her eyes off of her phone as she made the connection that the rag doll in the video she was watching was her.
"Oh my god," Jean said, barely audible. Panic was rising within her.
She could see other cell phones recording what she was was watching within the video. She saw how many people were watching her. The audio of of the cheers and yells we're connected to what she was doing. If this was real, she couldn't handle it.
"Jean, you okay?" He knew it was a stupid question. He pulled the car over into a empty business lot. Jean didn't even notice. Her eyes were glued to her phone, her jaw dropped in pure horror.
Shawn watched helplessly as the loud cheers blew out the audio, knowing he had made his appearance. The cheers kept going, and Jean stared at her phone with wide, unblinking eyes. The audio cut off and Shawn knew the video ended, but Jean didn't look up.
"Jean," Shawn whispered, trying to pull her from her state of shock. She didn't move.
"I need to..." she started, her eyes still wide. "I need..."
"Jean."
"...a second," she said under her breath. She opened the car door and stepped out.
What had she done to herself?
_________________________________
Be careful y'all. Be careful at bars, be careful at parties. Just be careful.
Also, I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I will name a future side character after the first person to answer this Thanksgiving trivia question correctly.
WHAT YEAR DID THE PILGRIMS SAIL ON THE MAYFLOWER?
I teach Kindergarten, I HAVE to know these facts.
If no one answers, the character will be nameless. Like, sad, the parents didn't even name their child. That backstory will be depressing to write, so please participate, for the sake of this nameless character. It's gonna throw off my plot if you don't.
Love you guys and thank you so, so much for reading! It means so much to me!