4
EMILY'S POV.
I sat opposite John on the sofa in his house, with my heart beating wild. He stared at me with those intense, deep sea-blue eyes of his, and none of us talked.
Then a lady came down from the stairs, wearing a bikini top and pants. How could she come down with just that when the fiancée of the man she was having an affair with was sitting right there in front of her?
"What is all this, John? What have I ever done to you?" I finally asked as the lady made her way to him, sitting on his lap.
"I should also ask you that." He returned, and I furrowed my brows until someone sat next to me. I turned sharply and saw a man whose physique looked oddly like the man I slept with. "Didn't you sleep with him?" John accused me, and I got to my feet.
"I… wait. You have to listen." I turned to the man, who had come out of nowhere. He was smiling, and I felt disgusted and scared.
Then John came to stand next to me.
"So, how about we bury this and not make any noise?" He asked.
"No! Yesterday, I was... I was…!" I tried to spit out the words that I had been drugged, but my lips couldn't form the words. John looked at me and smirked.
The lady smirked, the stranger also smirked, and it seemed like the room was closing in on me—like the faces were too close and the walls were coming in, ready to swallow me.
"Wait!" I screamed, but it came out as a gasp as my eyes flew open.
A white ceiling...
I was still in bed.
I closed my eyes once more, and I turned my head. What kind of dream was that? Why would John accuse me of cheating? Thinking about it, it did seem like I had another dream about sleeping with a stranger, but it was a blurry dream.
Dreams... how they found a way to weave reality into them and scare people.
Wait, was I home? I had gone someplace strange after running from John's house. I had drunk alcohol, and... who took me home? Did I sleep there?
I opened my eyes tiredly, wondering if I had done anything silly. I had drank a lot and couldn't even remember things well. My memory of the past night was like broken glass. They just didn't fit.
I looked around and saw the neat interior of the room. Great, I was in a hotel. I turned, ready to go back to sleep, and almost screamed. The fear seemed to push me off the bed, and I landed on the cold floor.
My mouth flew to my mouth as I discovered I was naked.
A man… A man on my bed!
Gosh, jeez… wait, wait… Emily, you did not sleep with this man; you did not...
My eyes began to widen, and my jaw fell as everything began to piece together. The kind bartender, being harassed, my spiked drink, someone interfering, being taken to my room...
"Ah…" I whispered and shook my head. I didn't want to know what happened next. I didn't want to...
Even though I didn't want to, the memories came flooding my mind as clear as day.
Tangling, soft sounds, turning, heart beating, gasping...
I began to pick my things up, dashing into the restroom. There, I took a deep breath and began to wiggle into my clothes.
I had sex with a stranger. Emily, have sex with a complete stranger!
My fingers shook as my buttons proved difficult. They didn't cooperate. When I tried to pull on my baggy jeans, I actually fell to the floor and gasped in pain.
Then, there was my phone on the bed and his arm slightly on it.
I tiptoed to him and stuck out my hand, trying to take it without him knowing. Why hadn't the phone flown to the ground? How had it managed to stay on the bed?
I wrapped three fingers around it and looked at him.
Then the curtains shifted, and the morning rays played on his face. His eyeballs moved, and I froze.
Not because I was scared he'd open his eyes, but because I hadn't noticed how handsome he actually was. His eyebrows were light and brown. His lashes are long and dark. A tussle of messy brown hair on his head, scattered over his forehead, full heart-shaped lips, fair skin, a pointed nose, and a well-chiseled jaw.
His beauty struck me in the heart like a lightning bolt. Why would anyone be as handsome as that? If his eyes opened, what color would they be? I was curious, but I dared not wait.
After a few minutes of being mesmerized, I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath. Too bad I never met him again. I took my phone gently and left the room.
The bar was filled with waiters, waitresses, and people around.
"The bartender was here last night. Where is he?" I asked the woman at the counter. He was the cause of everything.
"Trevor? For some reason, he quit this morning." She replied.
"Ha." I scoffed in anger, bit my lip, and took out my credit card.
"I booked a room and had a few drinks. There's a man in the room, too." I said, feeling ashamed to say it.
She looked at me with that kind of look that suggested she imagined what happened, and she politely took my card.
I blinked in humiliation.
"How many bottles did you have?"
"Just put five bottles on my tab."
"Five?" She asked, with large eyes, "I'm sorry." She apologized immediately, and the very moment she returned my card, I walked out hastily.
I had wandered far from home, so there was definitely no way I and the stranger were meeting anymore. Problems? Forget about it. That was if I ever recalled his pretty face, or if he recalled mine.
I hailed a cab and got in, calling out my lane and address.
I relaxed in the car, closing my eyes, but neither the memory of the steamy night nor the memory of the sharp beauty the stranger possessed left my mind.
Some people were just born to wreck people's minds with beauty.
As for John, I was wrecking our wedding ceremony.