"..Free my soul, I wanna get lost in your Rock 'N' Roll, and drift away.."
Amanda was used to the bar scene. She fit in. She belonged. Although technically she didn't belong – she felt as if she did, or deserved it weirdly. She was a mess, and couldn't kick her vices for the life of her. It costed her everything, and it seemed to be no end in sight. She stared at the blurry image in front of her, wobbling slightly at the sight of empty shot glasses surrounding her. Why didn't the bartender cut her off? She wasn't sure. Where even was she? That she wasn't sure of either.
She heard laughter, far away, close away, and crowding her. The soft rock playing through the speakers made her smile to herself, and she was sure that anyone who was watching her thought she was a wreck.
"Amanda? Holy hell. Yeah, I found her. She's fine, Liv. I got her."
She heard her name, and the vibrations of the familiarity of it instantly soothed her. She was wasted, but she was safe. She felt his strong hands against the small of her back and her waist, and she felt herself being guided away from her bar stool. The laughter, the music, the noise – faded. She felt cold air against her face and she heard soft murmurs. Spanish curse words, she knew he was pissed at her, but she knew he was more happy to have her in his eyesight. His hand absently swayed through her hair, his fingers intertwined with her locs as if to keep her standing, but nurturing her at the same time. Eventually, she heard a key turn, and she knew she was in her apartment. As drunk as she was, she could still smell the pine candles she had bought from Costco a few days ago.
She felt herself being sat down, and she heard him sigh – removing her boots in the process. Her jacket came off, next, her blouse, then finally her slacks. She then heard rummaging as she laughed erratically, hearing him sigh again as his rummaging finished throughout her closet. His hands swiped through her hair again, tucking her blonde, fair hair behind her ears, and removed her earrings. She then felt a flair of fabric swiped over her head, possibly a pajama top he was rummaging for when he walked away. She giggled softly at his shushing, knowing that he was being extra delicate with her, even through his deep frustration.
"Nick."
He didn't answer, but she knew. He pushed her back against the bed softly, lifting her legs toward the mattress, before lifting her bed sheets against her body. She called out his name again, and he didn't answer, only kissing her hand before stepping away. She peered drowsily at him, smiling at the gentleman like behavior he always portrayed. He smiled back, quickly looking away before turning her light off, walking from her bedroom.
"Night, Amanda."