Chapter 5
Nikita splashed cold water on her flushed face several times before she felt even close to her normal self. After turning off the tap, she focused on concentrating all her anger into one sphere and compress it until it was reduced to the tinniest ball.
But no trick could erase the sensation of dirt on her skin. She could not believe a married man had just felt her up, and that he had the nerve to treat her like whore. Even worse, in her misery over Michael, she set herself up to be treated like whore, she let him do it, trying in vain to rid herself of her sorrowful mood.
This wasn't her! This wasn't her at all. She did not do one-night stands. And she never had sex for sake of improving her mood or to forget her troubles.
Alcohol and depression were a very dangerous mix- Nikita said herself as she quizzically examined the haunted gaze in the bloodshot eyes that disbelievingly stared back at her in the mirror of the ladies room.
Leaving the bathroom, she felt the loud music pulsing in her ears and irritating the sudden throbbing in her head. A nasty reminder of tonight's brilliant display of stupidity.
It made her want to drink another glass of something, * anything * just to silence the nagging thoughts of what she had done. But then drinking is what had gotten her into this in the first place.
God, she hoped that slap stung for a week and left a handprint on Grey's cheek.
It was no use wishing she had stayed home, even if that meant watching late night reruns of Ally McBeal and falling asleep on her couch, anything would have been better then this nightmare of an evening. Carefully making her way outside, Nikita carefully scanned the area, relieved to find that the fair- haired jerk had not followed her. She quickly disregarded her initial intention to hang around until Walter or his wife showed up. She just wanted to get home as quickly as she could and try to put this nightmare behind her. One good night of sleep would hopefully help her put this unfortunate night behind her. The only thing she was certain of was that she would NEVER again drink to forget her sorrows.
Nikita found Birkoff and Ginger right where she left them. A dark haired boy whose arm was draped around a girl with bright short pink hair and way too many body piercing had joined them.
His pervious embarrassment forgotten, Birkoff looked genuinely jolly and wide-awake. She felt very guilty for interrupting one of his too brief outings into the real world that he conceded for himself.
It was easy forgetting how young Seymour Birkoff was. The only real image she had of him was sitting at his lap- top, day by day with the same intense concentration working to all hours. What reason could he possibly have to deny his youth, what could have caused him to have such a cynical façade? This was how he ought to be spending his free weekends: having fun with friends rather then being glued to a computer with tons of files eating Oreos in too small an office.
She approached, deliberately slowing her pace so he wouldn't notice her distress, and quickly explained that she was too tired to stay. Birkoff reacted admirably for someone who had been dragged against his will to an environment he normally disliked but had just started to have fun in and was suddenly told to leave.
The pink haired girl cut Nikita's impending retort off with a hoarse, deeply musical voice that nobody would have expected from someone so petite. Temporarily disentangling her thin arms from her boyfriend's intimate embrace she dismissed Birkoff's concern in a spontaneous gesture.
" This is not a problem Detective Boy, Darwin there, - she gestured for Nikita's benefit at the dark haired boy behind her,- has his car. If you feely lucky enough to brave his driving, we will give you a lift. ''
Seemingly offended by his girlfriends comment on his driving Darwin felt a need to defend himself. " Don't listen to her, my driving is perfectly fine " he grumbled, once again enfolding the girls tiny figure in his arms, looking so very tall in comparison. " The offer still stands, we'll drop you home".
Promptly smothering Birkoff's shy refusal, Nikita intervened smacking him on his nose with her car keys. " No need, you can take my car. Return it tomorrow morning - without any damage please." Emphasizing the last part. "I'll take a cab. Don't even think about refusing me. I owe you for dragging you here at this hour."
Thanking God, her young cyber geek required no other persuasion, all too happy to continue to enjoy Gingers shameless flirting. Nikita found no need admitting she had drank too much to safely drive and she also was relieved that no on took notice of her current state.
Once outside, the cold air of the night seemed to encourage the fumes of alcohol and dull her mind. So much so the simple operation of calling a cab was for Nikita disbelievingly exhausting. And once finally getting a cab she had to concentrate in order to tell the driver her address.
During her drive home, the reality of returning to her apartment filled her with an anguish she had no real reason to explain. She failed to get a grip on the sadness or the loneliness filling her heart.
Suddenly painful images of Michael, laughing with and making love to Lisa filled her mind. She imagined him basking in anticipation that same night, just before calling his old friend Nikita to cancel dinner with her. A dinner she had wanted to share with him so bad that she could still taste the disappointment she had felt when he called her and said he wouldn't come. If she had been less proud, she would have cried, but instead she bottled it all up and those emotions exploded out of her in the worst way.
Michael didn't care, and this after all was at the heart of the matter.her heart.
She would just have to learn to deal with it.
"Figures" she mumbled to herself as her anger flared up, once again overcome by a sad numbness. " This is what happens to you when you stand and watch him stomp on your heart with out so much as a second glance and then forgive him as if it were nothing".
Before her door, Nikita hesitated to move and stared blankly ahead. Cheap was the only word to describe how she felt at that exact moment.
After a short annoying battle with her keys, (which were annoyingly rebellious in her numb fingers) she entered her dark apartment, heavily closing the door behind her; she leaned against the hard and cool wood. In the nocturne stillness, some extraneous feeling alerted her senses as the lights were suddenly turned on.
Nikita Wolfe blinked twice, needing to get used to the change of lighting and met the irritated gray-green gaze of the source of all her problems.
Nikita splashed cold water on her flushed face several times before she felt even close to her normal self. After turning off the tap, she focused on concentrating all her anger into one sphere and compress it until it was reduced to the tinniest ball.
But no trick could erase the sensation of dirt on her skin. She could not believe a married man had just felt her up, and that he had the nerve to treat her like whore. Even worse, in her misery over Michael, she set herself up to be treated like whore, she let him do it, trying in vain to rid herself of her sorrowful mood.
This wasn't her! This wasn't her at all. She did not do one-night stands. And she never had sex for sake of improving her mood or to forget her troubles.
Alcohol and depression were a very dangerous mix- Nikita said herself as she quizzically examined the haunted gaze in the bloodshot eyes that disbelievingly stared back at her in the mirror of the ladies room.
Leaving the bathroom, she felt the loud music pulsing in her ears and irritating the sudden throbbing in her head. A nasty reminder of tonight's brilliant display of stupidity.
It made her want to drink another glass of something, * anything * just to silence the nagging thoughts of what she had done. But then drinking is what had gotten her into this in the first place.
God, she hoped that slap stung for a week and left a handprint on Grey's cheek.
It was no use wishing she had stayed home, even if that meant watching late night reruns of Ally McBeal and falling asleep on her couch, anything would have been better then this nightmare of an evening. Carefully making her way outside, Nikita carefully scanned the area, relieved to find that the fair- haired jerk had not followed her. She quickly disregarded her initial intention to hang around until Walter or his wife showed up. She just wanted to get home as quickly as she could and try to put this nightmare behind her. One good night of sleep would hopefully help her put this unfortunate night behind her. The only thing she was certain of was that she would NEVER again drink to forget her sorrows.
Nikita found Birkoff and Ginger right where she left them. A dark haired boy whose arm was draped around a girl with bright short pink hair and way too many body piercing had joined them.
His pervious embarrassment forgotten, Birkoff looked genuinely jolly and wide-awake. She felt very guilty for interrupting one of his too brief outings into the real world that he conceded for himself.
It was easy forgetting how young Seymour Birkoff was. The only real image she had of him was sitting at his lap- top, day by day with the same intense concentration working to all hours. What reason could he possibly have to deny his youth, what could have caused him to have such a cynical façade? This was how he ought to be spending his free weekends: having fun with friends rather then being glued to a computer with tons of files eating Oreos in too small an office.
She approached, deliberately slowing her pace so he wouldn't notice her distress, and quickly explained that she was too tired to stay. Birkoff reacted admirably for someone who had been dragged against his will to an environment he normally disliked but had just started to have fun in and was suddenly told to leave.
The pink haired girl cut Nikita's impending retort off with a hoarse, deeply musical voice that nobody would have expected from someone so petite. Temporarily disentangling her thin arms from her boyfriend's intimate embrace she dismissed Birkoff's concern in a spontaneous gesture.
" This is not a problem Detective Boy, Darwin there, - she gestured for Nikita's benefit at the dark haired boy behind her,- has his car. If you feely lucky enough to brave his driving, we will give you a lift. ''
Seemingly offended by his girlfriends comment on his driving Darwin felt a need to defend himself. " Don't listen to her, my driving is perfectly fine " he grumbled, once again enfolding the girls tiny figure in his arms, looking so very tall in comparison. " The offer still stands, we'll drop you home".
Promptly smothering Birkoff's shy refusal, Nikita intervened smacking him on his nose with her car keys. " No need, you can take my car. Return it tomorrow morning - without any damage please." Emphasizing the last part. "I'll take a cab. Don't even think about refusing me. I owe you for dragging you here at this hour."
Thanking God, her young cyber geek required no other persuasion, all too happy to continue to enjoy Gingers shameless flirting. Nikita found no need admitting she had drank too much to safely drive and she also was relieved that no on took notice of her current state.
Once outside, the cold air of the night seemed to encourage the fumes of alcohol and dull her mind. So much so the simple operation of calling a cab was for Nikita disbelievingly exhausting. And once finally getting a cab she had to concentrate in order to tell the driver her address.
During her drive home, the reality of returning to her apartment filled her with an anguish she had no real reason to explain. She failed to get a grip on the sadness or the loneliness filling her heart.
Suddenly painful images of Michael, laughing with and making love to Lisa filled her mind. She imagined him basking in anticipation that same night, just before calling his old friend Nikita to cancel dinner with her. A dinner she had wanted to share with him so bad that she could still taste the disappointment she had felt when he called her and said he wouldn't come. If she had been less proud, she would have cried, but instead she bottled it all up and those emotions exploded out of her in the worst way.
Michael didn't care, and this after all was at the heart of the matter.her heart.
She would just have to learn to deal with it.
"Figures" she mumbled to herself as her anger flared up, once again overcome by a sad numbness. " This is what happens to you when you stand and watch him stomp on your heart with out so much as a second glance and then forgive him as if it were nothing".
Before her door, Nikita hesitated to move and stared blankly ahead. Cheap was the only word to describe how she felt at that exact moment.
After a short annoying battle with her keys, (which were annoyingly rebellious in her numb fingers) she entered her dark apartment, heavily closing the door behind her; she leaned against the hard and cool wood. In the nocturne stillness, some extraneous feeling alerted her senses as the lights were suddenly turned on.
Nikita Wolfe blinked twice, needing to get used to the change of lighting and met the irritated gray-green gaze of the source of all her problems.