Her arms were wrapped tight around her stomach as she left the elevator that had arrived on the floor for her hotel room. She was biting down on her lip so hard that she swore she had started to taste blood.
He made her feel... special, wanted. He made her feel important. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't give herself to him. Not when he lived on the opposite coast, not when he was working under her mother.
Oh, God, her mother. She was the last person who needed to find out Meredith had even been involved with someone else. Surgery was her focus. Building her career was her focus. She didn't have time for insignificant flings. Her mother had a way of finding things out, and Meredith had to stop any wind of this fling getting back to her.
She took a deep breath to fight back her tears as she unlocked the door to her room. She jumped slightly and her hand flew to her chest when she saw Cristina sitting on her bed waiting for her, "What the hell are you doing here, Cristina?"
"Wondering where you'd gotten to, we have a flight to catch in a few hours," Cristina assesses the expression on her friend's face, the redness that outlined her eyes, "Mer, what happened?"
Meredith sat on the bed beside Cristina with a long sigh, shaking her head, "It's just... I just... and he just, ugh," she groaned and buried her face into her hands, "I never should've gotten involved again."
Cristina sighed softly and rested a hand on Meredith's shoulder with a slight squeeze, "Come on, we can drink about it on the plane."
Meredith and Cristina entered the airport lounge and sat at the bar with their carry-ons sat beside their stools. Cristina ordered their drinks as Meredith's face fell in her hands, "I can't believe all the flights out of here are delayed, I just want to leave."
She still wore the jumper Derek had given her but had swapped out the dress for a pair of jeans for the plane. But now their flight was delayed for a good five hours, and they planned to spend that time sat at the bar, drinking. "Tell me about it. I'm dying to get back to the hospital, can't have Evil Spawn, Bambi and Barbie getting ahead of us already! Drink up."
She took the shot of tequila offered to her by Cristina and downed it in one, slamming the glass back on the wooden bar with a little too much force, "Keep them coming."
She felt a presence beside her before a familiar voice spoke, causing her to groan internally, "Nice to see you with more clothes on, Meredith."
Cristina looked over with a short laugh, "Is this...?"
"Oh, God no," Meredith eyes went wide as she downed another shot that had appeared in front of her before addressing Mark, "Please, leave. You didn't see me here."
"Hey, I didn't realise you were sat here until I came to order drinks, but he might want to get the next round in, we're going to be here for a while," Mark informed her, "But I won't say anything... much. I'll get the rounds in if you're still here."
He walked away again with his drinks and she lowered her forehead onto the bar with a groan as Cristina laughed a little beside her, "So who was that again?"
"Derek's best friend, Mark Sloan," she grumbled, not lifting her head, "Is there no other bar we can sit at?"
"Unfortunately, this is the only place here with the alcohol. Just keep your head down like that, you'll be fine," Cristina ordered them more drinks, giving Meredith a few pats on the back.
The sharp taste of the scotch hit the back of his throat as he finished off the remainder of the drink in his glass. "I can't explain, Mark. It's like, she's it for me. But she just... she's a complete mystery. It's like she's a stranger, but she isn't, you know?"
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration as Mark studied him a moment, an internal debate happening inside his head as to whether or not he should tell him who he'd seen at the bar. "Maybe you should just move on, Derek. Like you said, she made it obvious she didn't want to be with you, and she lives on the other end of the country for crying out loud. You can't have a busy residency schedule and maintain a long-distance relationship, maybe she has a point."
"I don't think I'll ever find anyone like her, Mark," Derek admitted, looking back up at him, "I need another drink." He heard the screech of his chair as he stood up, regretting making the noise as it sent a chill down his spine. He made his way over the bar, ordering another round for him and Mark, realising he was being watched by a dark-haired woman not too far down from him. He furrowed his brow slightly, "Do I know you?"
The woman simply laughed, and when she spoke, he recognised her voice, but he couldn't figure out where he'd hear it before, "Oh no, you don't. Delayed flight?"
"Yeah, we have another hour or so," he answered politely as he grabbed the drinks from the bartender.
The woman shook her head in almost disbelief, "I don't get it, the whole attraction to you, but I definitely stand by the term McDreamy."
Realisation crashed into him like a train, and he turned to look at her, "Cristina, right?"
She nodded with a smirk, "One and only. Now go, before she comes back. As much as I want to see my friend happy, she's not ready. But don't give up on her."
Derek's heart swelled. Meredith was here. He could see her one last time. He returned to the table he shared with Mark, thinking over Cristina's words. How much time was he supposed to give her? And how would he know, or be able to contact her when she was ready? Did he have to wait for Meredith to contact him?
Ignoring the look Mark was giving him, he kept his gaze on the area of the bar where Cristina sat. After a few minutes of waiting, lost in his own spiral of doubt and questioning, his eyes caught the blond streaks that the sun had brought out in her hair. He was entranced by her as he watched her return to the stool beside her friend, his eyes trained on her back as he tried to pluck up the courage to actually go and speak to her, and internal debate going on in his head over the pros and cons of doing so.
Before he could come to a decision, and at least three drinks later, his flight was called to board, and he lost his chance to speak to her as Mark dragged him out of the airport lounge. It was almost as if Mark and the rest of the world didn't want him to be with her.
I stay up late, and I talk to the moon,
And I can't stop telling him all about you,
Wonder if you do the same thing I do.
She collapsed on her bed. She couldn't sleep on the plane, despite the copious amounts of tequila she had been drinking in the airport lounge, and she was now feeling the hangover-like effects that followed such a venture. She couldn't keep his eyes out of her head. She couldn't escape the feeling she had the whole time sat in the lounge feeling his eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him, never mind spend any more time with him.
She stared up at the ceiling, an exaggerated sigh leaving her body as her chest deflated. She couldn't describe the feelings she felt when she was with him. One-night stands had never made her feel that way before. She knew she should've never agreed to the date, as harmless as he made it out to be. Just one night.
If it were just one night, why couldn't she shake this feeling? She knew better. She was raised better. Focus on your career, be the best you can be, don't let anyone slow you down. That's all her mother had instilled in her ever since she was a child. She didn't have a high-school sweetheart phase. College and med school simply involved drunken one-night stands. He was supposed to be just a one-night stand.
After their first night together, she had tried to continue with her theme of drunken one-night stands, but even then she hadn't been able to get his face out of her head, and all her ventures had been a bust. She couldn't even kiss other people without feeling guilty about it. So, she threw herself into her work as a distraction. The hard work, the long hours, it all paid off in the end when she had finished at the top of her class, but she couldn't help feeling empty. The fiasco between Cristina and Burke had simply instilled in her that relationships weren't worth it, and she should focus on her career, as Cristina had now vowed to do.
But from the moment their eyes had met on the beach for the second time, the emptiness was non-existent. The voice in the back of her head was still there, reminding her to not get attached, to keep him at a distance, and not get involved. But the empty feeling had gone when she was around him.
Now it was back in full force, and the weight of it pushed down on her chest overwhelmingly as she lay on top of the covers. She blinked away a few tears. Why did she have to be like this? Why couldn't she have just been normal? She knew her mother only wanted the best for her, and didn't want her to repeat her mother's mistakes, but did that really mean she had to live without someone to love her, or without loving someone in return?
She pulled her phone out of the front pocket of his jumper she still wore, the piece of paper with his number written on it falling out with the movement. She held the phone in one hand as she toyed with the piece of paper between the fingers of her opposite hand. She turned to lay on her side, her legs curled up closer against her as she pulled open a new message on her phone, typing in his number, saving it to her phone. She started to type and message. And then deleted it. And started typing again, and then deleted it. She groaned softly. She didn't know what to do.
These four white walls they know more than my friends,
They watch me type messages I'll never send,
This is the place that I just can't pretend to be alright.
She blinked back a few tears, and her eyes focused on the time shown at the top of the phone screen. She was due to be up for work in five hours. She locked the phone and plugged it into the charger at the side of the bed, climbing off the bed herself to get changed and showered, only to put the hoodie back on once she was ready to get back into bed.
She curled up under the covers, pulling the collar of the jumper up so she could in half the remnants of Derek's sent in the fabric. She lay like that for a moment before suddenly sitting up in the bed and pulling the jumper off, throwing it across her room.
She needed to stop being so pathetic. She should've just told him how she really felt.
Is your bedroom ceiling bored like mine?
Of you staring at it all the time.
'Cause it's seen so many nights,
Where I cry and I yell at the sky,
For not telling you how I feel.
Is your bedroom ceiling bored like mine?
She woke, feeling groggy and her eyes sore from the tears she had spilled crying herself to sleep. She had to be at the hospital in just over an hour. She was in charge of interns this year, and they were officially in competition with each other for the first solo surgery and she couldn't let anything distract her. She sat up in the bed, making the resolution to make Derek small in her mind. She could stuff him, and all of the feelings she had for him, into a small box, compartmentalising her mind. She had to focus.