Letters She Wrote | Outer Banks

𝐱𝐱𝐯𝐢𝐢. 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲

[ xxvii. tennessee whiskey ]

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ALONG WITH THE THREE airplane shots of whiskey and tequila that she had already consumed prior in the night, Willa Deveraux had now since added two more glasses of bourbon and a flute of sparkling champagne to her growing list of disastrously finished drinks.

She hoped that the growing buzz she felt deep in her bones and in her head would help carry her to the end of the evening but since it was only a little after nine and she was expected to stay until at least midnight, she knew that an approaching blackout would be the only way that this night truly ended.

But that was okay, she had continuously reassured herself, for the less she remembered from this night, the better.

Willa had finally been able to take a break from the garden bar and had relocated back into the confines of the Island Club. Whilst most of the Midsummer guests still lingered out on the garden's open dance floor or in the lavish dining halls and intoxicating gambling rooms on the lower levels, Willa made her escape towards the highest floor of the Club and had crawled through an open window to reach a balcony that was purposely meant to remain empty. She had closed the window behind her and with no door to prevent an accidental walk-in on her private escapade she finally felt that she could have a moment of peace.

Of course, she could not escape the persistent chime of elegant live music that continued to try and pull her back towards the dance floor and back into the arms of her deranged date. Thankfully, the band had taken an intermission and once again music from a handheld device drifted from large speakers and into the quietness of the twinkling night sky. Whoever was in control of the playlist now seemed to enjoy the promise of a slow dance intertwined with the drawl of southern classics and the smooth, rustic voices calmed Willa's erratic nerves instantly.

Contrary to popular opinion, she enjoyed country music greatly.

Unfortunately, Willa knew that the music would come to an end soon. Whilst her mind may have been heavy with drink, she had quickly grown to recognize a pattern in the way that the band performed. During intermissions there was a space of seven songs allowed before the performers returned to the stage and took back over. Seven songs to escape the clutches of those determined to keep her trapped out in the garden. Already three songs had finished and the fourth was just beginning. Soon, Willa would have to leave her private oasis all over again and return to the slander of the kooks that saw right through her own tainted Deveraux blood.

But for now, she could enjoy the soft country music that lulled her into a steady comfort that she had not felt in quite some time. Granted, the alcohol might also have had a bit to do with her ease, too. No matter, for a single moment in time Willa was content on the Island Club's highest secluded balcony. She was not particularly, happy, no. How could she possibly be when in the belly of the midsummer beast? But she was momentarily untroubled, and she found that she could breathe the cool ocean air a bit easier from above than she could from below.