By the time I got back to my place, it seemed as if she was done with throwing up for the night. She looked more lucid and I wanted to talk to her, to find out if there was anyone I could call. I plonked her down on my black leather sofa and stood, indecisive for a moment, then sat beside her.
“Is there anyone I can call, someone to come get you?”
She looked down at her feet and I noticed that she had left her heels somewhere on the street.
“No. Not really.” In the silence of the room I was surprised at how posh her voice sounded. She could’ve been a news reporter.
“Well, there’s only one bed so-“
“Are you trying to seduce me?” Her voice was slurring again now, her tongue tripping over itself.
“Oh, well, vomit isn’t really my favourite flavour of woman. I was going to say if you get cleaned up you can sleep on the couch. That is, unless you still want to use my phone?” I was hoping she would and hoping she wouldn’t.
“Where’s the shower?”
I guessed that she had the capacity to wash her self by now, even if she wouldn’t be walking anywhere by herself till morning. I helped her up; her skin felt cool and damp from her sweat and the night air. Maybe if we had met in other circumstances, I would be seducing her right now. I showed her to the bathroom and let her be, closing the door but keeping my ears open for any sound of distress. I wondered how she would feel when she woke up the next morning. Would she remember; would she feel ashamed? Would she apologise to me, walk out like nothing had happened or ask me how she could ever repay me? I snorted at that last one. Sounded like some shit you read in a fantasy story. Girls in real life either had class and treated you like shit, or had no class and let you treat them like shit. I had an inkling Maria was one of the classy ones.
The door creaked open behind me. I turned to see her, her curls damp and falling around her shoulders, her body wrapped in one of my bathroom towels. With the light from the bath room behind her and the cheap make-up and vomit washed away, she looked a hundred times better. Yep, she was one of the classy ones, even in her present state. I got off the couch and pulled the top blanket off my bed. I laid it down on the couch, even though I knew she would have climb under it.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Her voice startled me. For a few moments, I seemed to be under the impression I was entertaining a mute goddess.
“Oh yeah, the complimentary mints under your pillow. Sorry, but this isn’t a hotel, just a place to crash for the night.” My harsh words spilled out without me thinking. This girl was really messing me up. I turned my back to her, cursing that I lived in such a small apartment. I walked over to my bed and started to undress, knowing that she could be looking the other way, at the blank TV, but that her eyes were following me. Casing me like a house she was going to steal from. I pulled my shirt over my head, feeling it grate against the roughness of my stubbly cheek. So what if she was looking, I didn’t care. I wasn’t a body builder, but I was fit enough to impress most women. Not that she’d even remember in the morning. I felt a sudden aching in my stomach, a longing for her to come to me. Come to me and put her hands around me, kiss my neck and whisper in my ear. To sleep with her beside me, a warm body breathing in my bed. I didn’t want to seduce her. That was desperate trickery, all smoke and mirrors. I wanted her to come to me, trusting me, knowing I that was a good bloke. Like that was going to happen. I got into bed, noticing that while I was facing the other way she’d climbed under the blanket and closed her eyes, drifting on the edge of sleep.
“Goodnight.”
“Mmm, night.” she mumbled. I got into my bed, pulling what was left of my covers over me. I propped myself up in bed, trying to convince myself I was just staying awake so I could help her if she got ill again. But really I just wanted to watch her face as she slept.
