"So... who are you with?" The burly security guard steps forward, barring your way.
"I'm with the band," you say, your voice loaded with suggestiveness, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
He raises an eyebrow, taking in your too-tight dress and cherry red...
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Shit happens...
That's what I usually say when things go sour... whether it's my fault or not. Hearts get broken, people get hurt, lives get irrevocably changed by others' actions every single day... for the better and the worst. It's just a fact of life.
I never normally dwell on the complicated stuff, the messy stuff like feelings and letting people down and taking responsibility for my wrongdoings. It's so much easier to just look the other way.
But as I stand there in the hotel room staring at the doorway which Sam's just bolted through I'm struck with a hollow, sinking feeling gnawing in my gut which I know isn't going to just fade away if I flop back into bed and try and shut out the world by closing my eyes and trying to sleep.
I've fucked up and I've fucked up bad... and for once I actually feel terrible about it. I can't just leave things the way they are. I won't settle until I've at least tried to make amends.
I dive straight for the door, hoping to catch Sam before he leaves and I see him up ahead in the kitchen area filling a glass with cold water which he promptly starts to gulp. He's leaning forward against the counter top, one hand gripping the edge. His whole body looks stiff and full of tension. Not like last night when he was pressing up against me carefree, laughing and dancing. Not like this morning when his strong arms were wrapped around me as he pulled me close and caressed me tenderly.
"Sam?" My voice is small, but it still sounds loud in the quiet space, like it's echoing off the walls. I keep my distance, hovering uncertainly at the edge of the kitchen area.
"Save it Arabella, I don't wanna hear it."
He doesn't look around, he just stares straight ahead at the wall, even when he places the empty glass back in the sink. I can see his jaw tighten, his profile set in a mask of angry shock.
"I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear," I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice that's threatening to break into a sob. "I don't know what happened but I didn't put your photo online. It wasn't me!"
Sam turns to face me then, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "It wasn't you? Well who was it then? Some random person snuck into the hotel room last night and took piccies of me whilst I was sleeping did they?" He laughs bitterly. "Oh, and I suppose you just happily posed for them too seeing as you're in the other photo!"
Crap... this is even worse than I thought. Portia has obviously posted both photos, meaning that not only has Sam's naked pic gone viral but the whole world knows who he hooked up with last night. I'm not exactly a socialite but with the circles that I move in back home I'm sure word will spread around fast. Everyone will be clamouring to find out the juicy gossip. And as if on cue I hear my phone ringing again from the bedroom. I ignore it, finally stepping towards Sam, horrified when he recoils from me.
I stop abruptly, searching for words that will somehow make this better, but I'm not sure if any will. Maybe it will help if I try to explain my motives last night, even as questionable as they are in the inebriated state that I was in.
