And we're back! Thanks for being patient and if you weren't, thanks for tuning in anyway.
We're in Jimmy's point of view now and will be wrapping up this latest encounter. I really hope you guys enjoy!
Jimmy's POV
The sound of rushing water stirred me awake. The sun streaming in through the sheer inner curtains practically forced my eyes open. This wasn't a familiar view, so it took me a few seconds to recognize where I was. I sat up, trying to think of my next move. There's only one other person in this suite and from the sounds of it, she's awake.
I hadn't thought much past this point.
Slowly, I got up and walked into the bedroom, the slightest bit fearful of what I would find.
There, sitting on the bed with the comforter turned down, head in her hands, and fingers in her hair was Cindy, likely realizing the hangover she was getting into.
I walked as quietly as I could until a wrong step made a sound that gave my presence away. Peeking in between her hair, she saw me, standing slightly past the threshold. As if it took the biggest amount of effort, she slowly lifted her head.
"What are you doing here?"
It wasn't exactly what I expected to hear.
"How do you feel?" I asked a question in return.
"How do you think?" She shot back and it took everything in me to hide my growing smirk in response to her snark.
She looked back down but not before I noticed she washed her face, which explained the running water.
"Jesus, it's fucking bright in here," she complained and tilted her head away from the windows. "Ugh, what time is it?"
"It's um, a little after seven," I replied after looking at my watch. She didn't thank me for the time or give any sign that she acknowledged me.
"You still haven't answered why you're here."
Damn.
Realizing she probably didn't remember most of last night, I began explaining as best I could, hoping she would pay attention.
After emptying her stomach, Cindy refused to look at me and instead stared at the ground for a few seconds, unable to believe what she had just done. I moved my foot and as if that broke her trance, she ran back into the apartment without another word.
"Cin-," I called out too late. I tapped both feet at an angle, hoping to get as much of the vomit off as possible before going back in and looking for her. Once I got off as much as I could and careful not to step on what remained on the ground, I turned to the open door.
It's a nicely sized apartment, one that I suspect Cindy's friends have help paying for. I'd only been in the main room where the party was going on and the terrace, so I didn't have a scope of the place, meaning I had no idea where to start looking for Cindy.
Instead, I went in search of someone who would know.
It was harder than I would have liked to find Libby. It also wasn't ideal that when I found her, she and Sheen were dancing very intimately on the dance floor. Under any other circumstance, I wouldn't have interrupted.
"Libby," I knew she could hear the urgency in my voice by the fact that she turned towards me. "Have you seen Cindy?"
"I'm sure she's around…." She trailed off, not knowing why I wanted to find her so badly.
"She got sick." I hesitated with what I was going to say next but knew there was no other way around it. "We were out on the terrace and she just…puked everywhere."
"What?!" She exclaimed, and I was glad to finally have her attention. With that, she pulled away from Sheen and spoke again. "What happened?"
"She just… ran off. Can you help me find her?"
"Yeah. Sheen, come on, let's go."
It didn't take very long for the search for Cindy to be over, and when thinking about the reasons why she would be in her friend's bedroom, away from everyone else, it made sense.
"Come on, Cindy. I know you're embarrassed, but you can't just hide in here all night." Libby spoke as she tried to drag her off her friend's bed.
"No, I just, I just want to go to sleep, Just leave me here," she spoke with such a strong slur that I could barely tell she was objecting.
"Cindy, this is your birthday party." Libby fought and it was easy to tell she was getting frustrated. "You can't just… disappear and knock out."
"I-I just- I don't…. I don't wanna be here anymore."
At that, Libby let out a sigh and anyone could tell that she was not happy with how this conversation was going.
"Come on then, Grab your coat. I'll take you back." And then, as if something inside me couldn't help myself, I spoke.
"I can take her." Libby and Sheen, who had only recently caught up to us, turned to look at me.
"What?" Libby asked impatiently, though I knew it was mostly because of Cindy.
"I can take her… wherever it is that you need me to take her." It wasn't until then that I noticed didn't know what Libby's plan was. Cindy was obviously not spending the night here, but before committing to bringing her somewhere, I didn't bother to find out where it is.
"Jimmy, you don't have to do that."
"It's fine. You two stay here and enjoy the party. I don't have much going on here anyway. I'll- I'll make sure she's okay. You know I will."
Libby nodded, knowing that besides her, I was the best person for the job.
"I'll text you the address, but her parents booked her a hotel room. It's a couple blocks away. All her stuff is there so she should be fine." Libby spoke as she walked around the bed and reached for a coat and small emerald green bag, which I figured belonged to Cindy. "You-you might have to stay with her for a bit. Until she's feeling better, at least."
"That's fine."
"Okay," I saw her sneak a look at Sheen, almost like if she expected him to say something, and maybe she was hoping he would try to stop me. But the small nod I saw him give her out of the corner of my eye did the opposite.
Despite not wanting to get up at first, it wasn't too difficult to get Cindy to put on her coat. It was a much easier task, at least, than when we left the room and anyone that saw us asked when was going on. Libby, and surprisingly Sheen, quickly and expertly informed whoever would ask that Cindy had fallen ill and was turning in for the night.
Truth be told, it wasn't a complete lie.
Stepping out onto the streets of New York made our problem potentially worse as now there were total strangers who didn't know what was going on but only saw the struggles of a young drunk woman and the guy by her side who was holding onto her.
We couldn't have made it to the hotel faster which was, thankfully, as close as Libby said it was.
I was too busy tending to her that I can't say for sure if there was anyone we passed that looked at us suspiciously. It sure as hell didn't look good: a sober enough 21-year-old male leading an inebriated 21-year-old female with a short dress and high heels into a hotel elevator. Luckily, Cindy didn't look as bad as she likely felt. But I couldn't tell if or not she was acting since she too could see how bad this looked.
We stepped into the elevator without any issue. Once the doors closed shut, she leaned against the wall with a loud thump and it was confirmed that she was just pretending to be as stable as she appeared. She looked like she was going to say something but decided against it and turned her head to the side facing the rows of buttons.
With an unsteady hand, she pressed the one labeled "3".
Okay, good. It wasn't going to be a long elevator ride.
Looking over at her, black peacoat ending slightly above mid-thigh and a small crossbody bag around her shoulder, I realized it was the first time I really had a chance to do so all night. Not that I should be.
The past half hour feels like such a blur that I nearly forget Cindy threw up on my shoes that long ago. What let me cling onto it was the fact that it was the reason we were here.
The elevator dinged sooner than I expected, and I feared that it was because we were stopping to pick up passengers on the second floor. We were one step closer to the privacy of her room so any more people that could potentially see the state she was in wasn't helpful. Once the doors opened, we were met with an empty hallway and on closer inspection, I saw that we had arrived on the third floor as signaled by the number on the inner frame of the elevator.
Before I could reach for her, Cindy had straightened up and was walking out.
"What's uh, what's your room number?" I asked as I followed after her.
"Three one-one," she mumbled as she reached for what I assumed was her key card in her purse. As if the task required too much effort and balance, she stumbled. I knew she was only able to steady herself because she knew I was watching.
After about another forty feet, Cindy took a couple of steps to the left and slid the card into the lock. I was close enough to hear the beep and watch her open the door. Instead of going in, she turned around in the threshold, her back to the room, blocking me from going in.
"You can leave," she slurred.
"I'm not going to leave you like this. You could choke on your own vomit." Though there were other reasons I knew it was better if I stayed, I chose one of the vaguer.
Cindy let out a humorless chuckle before she spoke again.
"Oh, now you care about me." Deciding not to start a fight, no matter how much I wanted to know what that meant, I persisted.
"Cindy, I'm just trying to help you."
"I don't need your help Jimmy. I can take care of myself," she argued louder than was necessary.
"Stop being so damn stubborn Cindy," I replied at a normal volume. "Let me in."
"Fine," she caved though the look on her face said she was not happy about it, "but you better not try anything," she mumbled under her breath.
It only took a couple of seconds after entering to realize that this wasn't just a typical hotel room. The front door opened to a common area nearly the size of my living room back in Texas. There was a plush looking loveseat and a couch I could tell was also a pull-out bed. On the wall, above a chest of drawers, hung an LCD TV no less than 65 inches. Behind the sofas, between the two windows, stood the larger than average mini-bar and mini-fridge. Based on the various bottles of alcohol displayed on the bar and the stack of plastic cups pushed off to the side, I came to the conclusion that this is where Cindy's after-party was supposed to be held.
"Wow," I spoke for this first time since entering. "Your parents really went all out for you."
"Only child perks," she answered with her back facing me as she shrugged off her coat. I nodded, realizing that I've had several of my own too.
Taking a few more steps into the room, I noticed a bathroom off to the side, through a door that was halfway open.
Glancing over at Cindy, who sat on the couch, reaching down and undoing the straps of her high heels, I decided she would be okay while I used the facilities.
"I'm going to use the bathroom," I pointed to it, even though she wasn't looking. Her response was a dismissive wave.
A few moment later, as I came out of the bathroom, I was taken aback by the seemingly normal sight in front of me. The brightly lit TV was turned on to some news station but on mute. On the couch was Cindy, bare feet out in front of her, with a, what I assume is a freshly poured drink in her hand, and looking deep in thought but was not facing the TV.
"What were you talking to Meg about?" She asked, unexpectedly, before taking a drink,
"What?" I asked not because I didn't hear her, but out of surprise.
"My friend Meg. From the party." Another drink. "The hot redhead."
"Oh. It was nothing."
"So you do think she's hot."
What the hell?
I took a step forward, trying to make it seem like I was going to say something. "I don't think you should be drinking anymore."
"I don't think you should have showed up to my party unannounced, but here you are."
I blinked, confused.
"You invited me."
"You," she pointed her index finger at me, as if there was someone else in the room she could have been speaking to, "didn't RSVP." With that she downed the contents of her cup in one go and stood up so quick, it was a miracle she didn't stumble and fall. "I'm going to bed." She spoke so fast that I only understood her because she headed to the bedroom.
"You really shouldn't be lying down after drinking so much," I warned.
"You really shouldn't be telling me what to do," she slurred after spinning around to face me. Without another word from each of us, she headed towards her bedroom again, where I knew better than to follow her.
I took the seat she left unoccupied on the couch and ran my hands over my face, already regretting doing all this. Could I really not be the nice guy for one night?
Not with Cindy, apparently. Never with Cindy.
"Um." I heard her voice besides me almost a minute later. I looked up in surprise, since I didn't expect her to be standing there. "I need help with something." She was wringing her hands together, proving that coming to me wasn't her first option but one that she resorted to.
"What's up?" I stood up, hoping it would encourage her to say whatever she needed.
"I need you to help me take off my dress," a single beat later, like if that's how long it took for what she said to register, she burst into giggles. Her hands now clutched onto her stomach, unable to control her laughter. Meanwhile I, who knew exact what she meant, didn't find any humor in it.
I walked behind her, looking for the zipper at the back of her dress.
"How did you get it on in the first place?"
"Libby helped me," she replied, hands now down at her sides making her dress looser and easier to undo.
Part of me wished Libby were here instead of me.
I gently pulled the zipper down to midback where I knew Cindy would be able to take over. Slowly, she turned around and had her arms crossed over her chest like she was shielding herself. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something and since I was being extra cautious of anything that came out of her mouth tonight, I gave her all my attention.
"Thanks," she spoke coherently, and I was just glad it was something positive.
"You're welcome," I nodded, letting her know that it really was no problem.
"Uhh, are umm, uhh," It was really difficult to tell if she was about to throw up again or if she was just getting her words together. "Ar-are you going to be staying here?"
"I can. If you… need me to." Before she asked, I really hadn't thought about how long I was planning to stay. I wouldn't want to leave until she's okay enough to be left on her own. But seeing how much she's had to drink, there was no way of telling if or when that would be.
"It's whatever," she shrugged and by the way her eyes closed, I could tell how tired she was. "I'll just… call out for you if I need something."
"Sounds good." I don't know how it must have looked, and as soon as I did it, I a part of me regretted it, but I thought that casually taking a couple of steps back was a good choice. Without another word, Cindy turned around and headed back to the bedroom. Taking a deep sigh, curious to the night in front of me, I sat back down on the couch.
About a half hour later, after hearing no noise coming from the bedroom for a few minutes, I decided to check up on her.
Cindy, who I imagine is probably a pro by now at going to going to bed while intoxicated, lay on her stomach but at an angle so that her right leg was bent and that her face was at turned to the side. As I approached her, I could tell she had pulled her hair into a messy bun and was a wearing a light pink tank top.
Her breathing was normal. Or at least as normal as can be for someone's who's had as much as she'd had to drink. She looked peaceful and without a care in the world. Everything about her just looked, and felt, so familiar.
Stepping away, I decided to go on a search of water, hoping that it would be included in the beverages intended for the after party.
It couldn't have been more than an hour before retching sounds best described as violent woke me up from the sofa bed and had me rushing to the bathroom adjoining the bedroom.
As I anticipated, there was Cindy, hugging onto the toilet bowl, her blonde hair visible as she released everything her stomach felt like expelling. Moving quickly, I sat besides her, pushing as much hair as I could behind her ears, intending to fix her ponytail if and when I got the chance. I moved on to rub her back, not giving it a second thought and not caring if Cindy tried to stop me.
"It's okay, Cin. It's okay." I guess I couldn't say much in the comforting department, but she must have felt a least a little bit better knowing that someone, even if it was me, was here.
Not too long after, the sounds of her struggle died down.
Reaching for the water bottle I had earlier placed on the sink counter, I twisted the cap off and handed it to her.
"I'm pretty sure I just threw up my intestines," Cindy spoke through heavy breaths before taking a big gulp.
With a small chuckle, I replied. "I don't think that's actually possible."
"Of course, you would know," she replied wrapping the towel around herself once more and using it to shield herself from the cold.
We both sat on the tiled bathroom floor, her looking sickly pale and me not knowing if it would be a good idea to reach out and comfort her.
"Jimmy?" she spoke shakily after a few heavy seconds, though I couldn't tell for sure if it was because of the low temperature she was feeling.
"Yeah?"
"Wh-Why are you being so nice to me?" It was a weird choice of words, and I didn't have an immediate answer to the question. By the way she was saying it, it made it sound as if I hadn't been.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"'Cause," she sighed, "I don't know. We're not together anymore. I guess I just thought that… you no longer have to be there for me. I'm your ex, so you don't have to do all this for me. Be so… nice. I can't imagine it would be like this for many other people." As she finished, she brought the towel closer to her and brought up one of the corners to wipe her mouth with it.
I looked at her; small, tired, and pale under the bright bathroom lights. Throwing up and the amount of sleep she's had so far doesn't seem to have done much to her high level of intoxication. Because I don't think she ever would have said something like what she did if she were sober.
I couldn't think of what to say, because on many points, she was right. There is no reason for me to be here, let alone be so endlessly patient.
"We're not like many other people though, are we?" I was all I could think of to say in that short amount of time since I didn't want her to think what she said went unnoticed. But based on the small smile on her face, it was the right thing to say.
"No," she whispered, even though we were the only people around. "We aren't."
"Then you got back in bed and just… passed out for the rest of the night."
"Well," she exhaled, "I don't feel like throwing up anymore."
"That's good."
"But I'd honestly rather have the nausea than go through this headache." She turned her face in her hand and it was now tilted all the way to the right, as if that would give her some relief. "Did I really throw up on you last night?" Even though I just recapped the later part of last night for her and vomiting on me was kind of the start of it all, it seemed she still didn't really believe it.
"Yeah," I confirmed, knowing it would do no good to lie about it now. "But really, don't worry about it. Believe it or not, it's actually not the first time it's happened."
"You've been thrown up on by drunk twenty-something college girls in the past?" What was intended as a little white lie to make her feel better turned into something out of control and the way in which she said it was part of it. It was a tone I hadn't heard from her in months. Sharp, direct, and with a slight bit of jealously. "Not that it matters." She spoke as soon as she realized what she had said. "Whoever you've been hanging out with lately, it's none of my business. It's… cool." She finished lamely as she turned away from me and pushed some hair behind her ear nervously.
"Besides, everything from last night," I started, trying to change the subject, "how have you been?" It wasn't until after I said it, that I realized what a mistake it was.
"Good," She unexpectedly replied. "Just… going to school and… work and all that."
God, this is weird.
She's never, even before we were going out, been this quiet and brief when she spoke about herself. She always had something to tell, or most likely, show off. I'm sure it being so early and having a hangover was part of it. But the bigger part of course, was that I was the one who was asking.
"You?"
I knew the only reason she was asking was to be polite. If it were entirely up to her, she'd be done trying to make any sort of conversation.
"Yeah, same. Pretty much." As I was saying it, I realized there was so much more I wanted to say, but she I knew she probably didn't care enough to hear it. "So hey, um, are you going to go back home over break?"
"Oh, uh, not at first." And just as I felt the urge to ask, she explained. "I'm actually going to spend the holidays with Sonia and her family in Seattle. But I'll be in Retroville for the last two weeks, so I'll be there for a little bit."
"That's exciting," I said honestly.
"Yeah," she smiled widely. "She and I are really close so it'll be nice to finally meet her family. She'll probably come to me over the summer and meet my parents. I'm not sure. We're still working it all out. But I'm really looking forward to going over there. It's going to be fun."
I nodded and smiled lightly, not letting on to how familiar that, her talking excitedly about upcoming things in her life, felt. At seeing my reaction, she stood up straighter and looked like she was going to say something unrelated.
"I'm umm," she spoke, thankfully breaking the silence. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Okay. Sounds good," I answered as I got up from her bed, taking that as her asking me to leave.
"Jimmy." She called out and I knew better than to ignore her. I turned around to face her. "Thanks. For… everything." I nodded, not sure I would be able to say anything.
It was only a few seconds before I was in the living room again.
Just as I was cleaning up and reaching for the pillows that had fallen onto the floor overnight, there was a knock on the door. Knowing I hadn't ordered room service and thinking it was too early for housekeeping, I decided to answer.
Immediately, the voice behind the door spoke.
"Hey girl, how ar-. Oh. Hey, Jimmy." If Libby was trying to hide her surprise at seeing me, she wasn't doing very well.
"Hey. Good morning."
"Good morning." She said with a tone as incredulous as how she looked. "Sorry, I-uhh I didn't expect you to still be here. Um, h-how's Cindy?"
"Fine. She's fine. She's going through an insane hangover, but that's to be expected."
"Yeah," Libby answered with a weak smile. "Listen, if you have to go, you can. I got it from here." She lifted up the plastic drugstores bags in her hands, surely full of remedies.
"Oh, sorry, come in." I opened the door wider and she made her way inside. I moved my wallet and phone from the coffee table so she could place her bags down. "She's in the shower." I nodded towards the bedroom and to where the sound of running water was coming from. "I'll get going then."
"Okay," she responded as she took out two large bottles of Gatorade from one of the bags. "Thanks again for your help. You really didn't have to."
"Nah, it's okay. I just wanted to make sure she was safe." There was something Libby wanted to say but she wouldn't. Her nod as opposed to a verbal reply gave it away. "I'll see you around then." We hugged good bye, not knowing the next time we would see each other again.
As I walked to the door of the suite, I took a final glance towards the slightly open bedroom door.
I for one, DO know when Jimmy and Libby (and Cindy!) will be seeing each other again. Stay tuned to find out. Thank you all so much for reading. If you can, please leave a review!
