Drawn (9 page)

We all walk in a massive group up Church Street until we arrive at the bar. For a while we need to wait in line
. I find it amusing as passers-by turn their heads at the wall of red clad party goers that weaves up the street, waiting to get inside.

The moment we step
through the doors, we’re enveloped in the thumping beat of the room. It’s not only the music, but the energy in here too. Everyone is excited and ready for a good time.

“Drinks?” Karl yells over the music, tilting his hand toward his face in the ‘drinkie drinkie’ motion.

Aaron takes my hand and guides me toward a table as Karl and Daniel go and get everyone some of the discounted drinks. For the next hour, we all sit around the table, initially sharing chairs until we loosen up a bit and girls start to make their way onto boys’ laps as the alcohol continues to flow. Before I know it, I’ve lost count. Everyone wants to shout me a drink to celebrate my eighteenth, and I’m really feeling it.

When I watch Kensi drag Jeremy onto the dance floor, I decide that’s exactly what I want to do too.

“Dance with me,” I yell over the music, tugging on Aaron’s hand. Smiling, he follows me onto the dance floor as I bounce around, swaying to the music.

He pulls me toward him, swaying along with me. “Are you having a good time?” he asks next to my ear.

“Yeah. The best,” I grin, sliding my arms up around his shoulders, my head fuzzy and my vision slightly blurred. “You’re very tall,” I comment, the thought coming to me suddenly. “I like that you’re tall.”

“And you’re a little drunk,” he laughs.

“Me? No, I’m just really happy. You’re the one who’s drunk,” I say, trying not to trip over my words as my lips lose their feeling. 

“It’s true
. I’m pretty fucking smashed actually.” 

“I’m not smashed. I’m just really happy,” I say again, as if it’s the first time I’ve come out with it.

He laughs at me. “I’m happy too. Although, do you know what would make me really happy?”

I look at him and bounce my shoulders, wanting to know the answer.

“This,” he says, as he stops dancing and takes my face into his hands. He tilts his head down toward me and I feel small. I feel gloriously small.

As our lips collide, my insides melt.
I’ve never lost my attraction toward Aaron, and to have him kissing me again, feels wonderful, like I’m re-visiting a favourite holiday destination. I can’t tell you how long Aaron and I dance and make out for, but eventually we come up for air.

“Do you want another drink?” he asks.

“Definitely,” I agree. “I’ll meet you at the bar. I need to visit the ladies room first.”

“Sure thing,” he smiles, kissing me briefly before heading back toward the bar.

As I push my way through the crowd toward the bathrooms, my head starts spinning. I touch my hand to my forehead, suddenly not feeling so good.

Slamming my hand against the door, I step through before realising that I’ve exited into a back alley. There’s not a huge amount of lighting out here and my drunken mind is struggling to focus.

But I’m sure I see people. People fighting.

“What the hell?” I question
, as I step a little closer. There’s a lot of yelling going on as a group of about twenty people stand around cheering and shouting at whoever is in the centre of their makeshift circle.

My curiosity draws me closer
, and I peer over the shoulder of a young guy with dark curly hair, gasping when I see Damien in the middle, his shirt off, muscles glistening in the heat of the night, as he stands there, poised and alert. Four other guys are charging him, fierce expressions on their faces as they attack.

I push forward, my
intoxicated mind thinking that he needs help and that somehow, I am capable of giving it. The group seems to have coordinated their attack and split into two, grabbing at his arms on both sides.

“Oh no!” I gasp, forcing my way to the front of the crowd.
Damien pushes toward two of his assailants, dropping down so that he can spin under his arms, crossing them over so that all four men are now standing together. He pushes as they pull, and drops them in a pile on the asphalt ground.

I freeze where I am, watching as they come at him over and over again. As one strikes out,
Damien takes his arm and twists his body, flinging him into another attacker as he turns to deal with the two on his other side. It’s like a flurry of motion that leaves the four men groaning and clutching their limbs painfully.

“Who’s next?” he yells, looking around the circle as one of the guys I saw him with earlier walks around collecting money. As his eyes land on me, his expression changes. “What are you doing out here?” he demands.

“I…” I start, but I don’t get to finish as my dizziness twists in my stomach and erupts out of my mouth, spewing all the food and drink I’ve had onto the ground in front of me.

“Shit
.”
I hear hissed around me, mingled with a few groans, as those close by jump clear of the spray.

Leaning forward, it’s as if a faucet has been turned on
, and I can’t stop until my stomach is painfully empty.

“Finished now?” a soft voice asks. I look up, suddenly realising that
Damien is holding me up and keeping my hair out of my face.

“I think so,” I
groan, trying to stand.

He holds me against him to steady me as I
struggle upright.

“Can you walk?” he asks
calmly.

“I think so,” I attempt to say again, but it doesn’t sound like that. My mouth is struggling to speak
, and my body doesn’t even want to move. I sag against him, my head dropping onto his shoulder. As I feel material instead of skin against my face, I wonder when he managed to put his shirt back on, and then I pass out.

“Oh god,” I moan, as I attempt to sit up. My head feels like it’s attempting to leave my brain behind on the pillow. Clutching at my forehead, I force myself upright, swinging my feet over the side of the bed, my soles coming into contact with…carpet? I wriggle my toes – my floor doesn’t have carpet.

Slowly, I open my eyes and look around. It takes a moment for my vision to clear, but in front of me is a tall chest of drawers, finished in a high gloss black lacquer, their handles hidden underneath a curved exterior
, edged in white laminate.

The bedside tables are exactly the same, and
besides a bedside lamp, no surface holds anything on top, it’s all perfectly clear. And except for where I’ve been laying, the king-sized bed is perfectly made too, with a white bedspread and a charcoal throw blanket at its base.

Above the bed is a large canvas painting, it’s all grey, with white circular shapes and flecks of black paint, you can actually see the texture of the paint on there.

“How are you feeling?” a deep voice, softly asks.

I turn around, wincing when my head punishes me for my movement, squinting through the pain as my eyes land on
Damien, who is sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. It’s as if he’s been watching me sleep.

He lifts the glass of water he has sitting on a small round table beside him and rises to walk over to me.

“What am I doing here?” I croak, taking the glass of water as he holds it out to me.

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember dancing. I remember drinking. Then I wanted to visit the bathroom but I ended up outside… and you… you were fighting?”

He smiles, only one side of his lip turning upward as he reaches out and removes the now empty glass from my hands.

“You had a bit too much to drink, passed out, and I brought you here to sleep it off.”

“How did you get me here?”

“With great difficulty,” he laughs through his nose. “But I couldn’t really take you home. Your father would have my head.”

“Oh no! What time is it? I should be home. He’ll refuse to let me move out.”

“Relax, your mum texted to see if you were still out and having fun. So I replied for you – told her you were still at the party and still having a great time. She said to keep going, and let her deal with your dad. I think you’re pretty safe, but… you smell like spew.”

“Oh shit,” I moan, looking down at my new dress and seeing splatters of sick on it from the vodka mixes I was drinking. “I’m dead.”

“No you’re not. Here, put these on,” he says, throwing a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt at me. “We can get that cleaned in the laundry downstairs.”

“Are you going to stand there and watch me?” I ask, as I pick up the clothes.

Grinning, he shakes his head. “I thought you might want to take a shower first. There’s a clean towel in the bathroom,” he says, nodding toward the door.

“Oh, of course,” I stammer, pushing through my legs to stand. Although I’m still feeling dizzy and stumble forward a little.

Damien rises instantly and steadies me, his arms sliding around my waist and holding my elbow. “You made a right mess of yourself, didn’t you?” he points out, his voice so gentle, it causes emotion to prick behind my eye.

I simply nod, my own self-pity winning over as a tear manages to escape and slide down my cheek.

“Come on,” he says softly, as he leads me out of the room and into the bathroom. Due to the sick feeling in my stomach, I drop down on top of the closed lid of the toilet and lean against his vanity while he prepares the shower for me.

“You’re very tidy,” I comment, looking around and noticing how clean the tiles and basin are in his bathroom.

“Not every guy is a pig,” he says, running his forearm under the water to test the temperature. “It’s fine now. Will you be ok?”

“Yes. I’m not letting you undress me.”

“I’m not suggesting that. I just don’t want you to fall and hit your head.”

“Ok, I get it. You’re worried about my father’s wrath.”

“No. I’m actually worried about you. What would have happened if I didn’t take care of you tonight? Where the hell was Aaron?”

“I don’t know. I think he was getting us drinks.”

“Well you don’t leave a girl on her own in a club – ever,” he spits out, glaring at me. His outburst causes me to jump slightly, and I’m unsure of how to react.

“Take your shower. Then I’ll wash your clothes and take you home,” he says calmly as he walks out of the door.

For a while I just sit there, feeling horrible and deeply regretting getting myself into this situation. I’m suddenly realising why my father was so against me going out – I’ve managed to make a total fool of myself.

As I shower, using
Damien’s Lynx body wash to clean my hair, and his mouthwash to remove the terrible taste from my mouth, I slowly start to feel human again. Turning off the water, I step out onto the floor mat and dry myself before getting back into my underwear – at least I didn’t vomit all over that.

My dress however
, is a total mess, and I feel so terrible for behaving badly. I pick up the navy blue cotton boxer shorts and hold them in front of me. Damien has really narrow hips. I’m not sure that his things will fit me.

Sliding them over my legs, I sigh as I feel the material pull tight around my thighs and buttocks. Suddenly that song about ‘short shorts’ starts going through my
mind.

Dropping the t-shirt over my head, I pull it down, grateful for his broad shoulders – at least this fits me.

“Um… do you have any other pants I could wear?” I ask as I emerge from the bathroom, feeling incredibly exposed in the fitted shorts.

“What’s wrong with those?”

“They’re um… your underwear…”

“I only wear them to sleep.”

“Ok, well… they’re very… short.”

“I’m the only one that will see you.”

His eyes travel from my bare feet, up my legs and over my body, slowly, until he reaches my face, locking his gaze with mine. I don’t breathe the entire time as a hunger toward him that I’m not sure I want sated, flares inside my body.

“Give me your dress,” he says after a beat, holding out his hand.

“I’ll wash it. It’s kind of gross.” I say in a rush, trying to sound normal.

He reaches forward and grabs it from my hand, sighing a little as he snatches it away.

“Just wait here. Drink some more water. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he instructs.

Doing as I’m asked, I fill up a glass from the tap and drink. Although my stomach isn’t too keen on the idea of having any more liquid introduced to it right now. So I slowly sip, walking around the apartment as I do.

“What the hell did you do with her?” I hear after a while, coming from outside the door. Holding my breath, I listen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about
, mate.”

“Etta. Where the fuck did you take her? Is she in there?”

“She was drunk. She passed out. She’s lucky I was there, because
you
certainly weren’t taking care of her.”