Totally random drabble, I just couldn't get it out of my head. Takes place during 5-3. What if Finn didn't have the wrong room?
Disclaimer, as always I own nothing.
As soon as she opened the door the smell of smoke filled her nostrils. She clutched her purse closer to her body and maneuvered her way through the crowded room to an empty bar stool. She hated bars, and she hated being at social events alone, but she had to get out of her room. He was all she could think about, all she did was read his book and cry. Paris Gellar, however, was not the girl who sat in her room and cried over a boy. She did not sulk, she took charge, and she took action. So, she shed her somber clothing, and tried to put together a more hip outfit before making her way to the corner bar.
She was sitting next to a group of guys who she had seen around campus. She watched them as they all laughed together, their rowdiness giving away how much they had drank tonight. She watched as a dark haired boy stood on his stool and professed his love for Eli Yale. She snorted at his antics, ignoring how attractive he was. She yearned to live a life as carefree as his, but she knew she had responsibilities. She immediately thought of Asher's will, however drove that thought from her mind with a swallow of her beer. Tonight, she decided she was going to just be a college student. She would let the rest of her life work itself out.
Three and a half beers later, she was feeling the buzz from her beers when the dark haired guy approached her. He smiled and introduced himself, before buying her a shot. She had never done shots before, and watched with awe at how easily he threw back the tequila, following with a swallow of Guinness. She followed suit, and he laughed at the face she made when the liquid burned down her throat. He sat down next to her and began to drunkenly ramble, and tried her best to flirt with him. Paris could no longer ignore how handsome he was, and her odd beauty took him. Their conversation made little sense, but continued with ease. She was soon forgetting all about Asher Fleming.
As soon as they were outside of the bar, she was pushed against the brick wall, his arms bracing her there. His breath was hot on her face before she wove her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. His kisses tasted like stale alcohol, not like the tobacco of Asher's. His tongue immediately found its way into her mouth, and they were soon dueling for dominance. His right hand dropped to the small of her back, pulling her towards him, while his other hand remained braced against the wall. She grabbed the dark curls at the nape of his neck, and moaned when his warm mouth left hers to leave hot wet kisses down her jaw and neck. She pulled on his hair and brought her mouth to meet his again. When they finally broke apart, she offered her place. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or the loneliness, but she was soon hurriedly walking towards Branford, her arm around his waist.
He left before sunrise. She watched from the bed, tangled in sheets, as he gathered his clothes and made his way for the door. He turned and gave her one last look before he left. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying, but the tears still came. She felt worse than before, dirty, like she had tainted Asher's memory. She had just wanted to forget.
She woke up with a pounding headache, and barely remembered the events that had transpired again. She put her black blouse and skirt on before making her way to the printer to pick up the fliers for the wake. When she passed the bar though, the night before came rushing back. If it had been any other night, she might have actually enjoyed his company, but the memories were bittersweet now. She wished she would never see Finn again.