The Quest for Epic

Chapter three

I stumbled out of Club 91, gulping down the cool night air in an effort to clear my head. I was drunk for the first time and even worse, I was alone. I had tried to call Maya but it seemed cell service in this area was bad. After a few tries, I decided to let her be. The girl was probably having fun and like the Debbie Downer I was, calling her would ruin her night like mine was ruined. I would just walk out to the road and try to get a taxi home.

This turned out to be quite the herculean task. I already had to practice walking in those heels when I was normal and clearheaded, now I was drunk and each step felt like I was teetering off the edge of a cliff. I could take the shoes off, but I was within the premises of a club, goodness knows the kind of junk that could be lying about on the street.

"I can do this", I muttered to myself, putting one wobbly foot in front of the other and ignoring the stares from the people hanging outside the club.

 Just a few more steps to the main road now, I thought to myself.

I was almost there, feeling a brief sense of accomplishment when suddenly this flashy silver Mustang breezed past. I got vertigo and dizzy all at once, my heel twisted out from under me and I fell to the ground rather unceremoniously.

Damn, that hurt. The ground was made up of some rough cobblestone and I was sure I had scraped my knees. I barely noticed that the Mustang had stopped somewhere in the distance, put on its brake lights and was now reversing towards me.

I heard the car pull up and someone get out and walk towards me.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked. Wow, what a voice. It was deep, but not overly masculine with what sounded like a bit of an Australian accent. I looked up slowly. Cool shoes, dark expensive looking jeans, black dress shirt and the most gorgeous face I had ever seen on a guy before haloed by longish but neat blonde hair.

I nodded and pulled myself up. He reached out to steady me but I held out my hand, not really in the mood to be touched again tonight.

''I'm fine, stranger", I sized him up out of the corner of my eye. He was tall, some inches over 6 feet and the hand he had reached out to steady me looked really nice. Nice, long fingers. Why was I thinking about his fingers?

"You're not fine", he raked his hazel gaze over me, but not in a predatory way "You're bruised and pissed ass drunk from what I can see"

"Whatever", I mumbled breathily. His eyes made my breath hitch in my throat a bit, liquid hazel framed by lashes that were way too long for a dude. This much gorgeousness on one person should be a crime really "I'm just trying to get a cab"

"Where are you going?" he asked in an accusatory tone

"Home", I replied simply, trying not to sound offended by his tone.

He crossed his arms and seemed to be mulling over his options.

"Fine. Get in, I'll take you home"