Strangers in the Storm ✔

Chapter 4: Disillusionment

DAMIEN

Sunshine seeped through the eastern window, throwing faint, morning rays all over the girl's naked body. Her red hair splayed over Damien's pillows, her limbs entangled in his navy-blue sheets and her chest rising and falling soundlessly, she was like god's masterpiece, waiting to be admired and worshipped.

Alas, he had no time for any of that. Damien pushed off the covers, sharp pain spreading through his temples the moment he moved. He winced and realised, to his dismay, he couldn't drink anymore like he did when he was sixteen.

Someone pounded on his door, causing equally strong pounding in his head.

"Dammit, Mona!" Damien went through his drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers. "I'm awake!"

The girl stirred in his sheets, her doe-like eyes fluttering open, and a small smile emerging on his plump lips, "Good morning."

"I have to go." Damien dug through his closet, trying to find clean jeans.

Roxanne's eyes burst open and she began to pull the covers off, "Okay, I'll... I'll get dressed."

"No rush." Damien smelled his blue t-shirt, and satisfied enough with the lack of odour, he put it on. "Leave the key in the vase by the front door."

Without another glance her way, he rushed out to the bathroom, quickly brushed his teeth, spitting out the remains of last night's alcohol, grabbed his wallet and car keys from the table in the living room and headed for the door. Mona banged again, causing more thunder in Damien's skull.

"I'm awake, Jesus!"

"Not Jesus, I'm afraid." Mona shouted through the door. "Open up."

Damien pulled the front door open and plastered a fake grin on his lips, his eyes jumping over his best friend, "Good morning, Mona. Always a pleasure."

Mona's short, black bangs jumped as she took in Damien's hungover demeanour, her icy blue eyes narrowed to slits and she put her pale, but tattooed hands on her hips, frowning.

"Good, you're awake." The petite woman tried to push past him, "Let me in, I want coffee."

"Uh, no, we're going right away." Damien grabbed her shoulders and turned her away from his apartment. "My mom is probably waiting."

"What- it's six-thirty, I came earlier, I want coffee!" Mona tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but Damien kept his firm strong and resolute.

"We can grab coffee on our way."

Mona glanced over his shoulder, into his apartment, "Oh, my God, do you have a girl in here? Jesus, Damien, don't you have shame?"

"Uh, no." Damien closed the door to his apartment. "Come on, off we go."

Mona entered the elevator and checked her makeup in the mirror, "No, you don't have a girl in there or no, you don't have shame?"

"Guess."

Damien refused to glance in his own reflection. He probably looked the same way he felt, like absolute shit. Mona, on the other hand, looked absolutely gorgeous in her beige, fine pants and a white blazer. She had a job to get to after this.

"You're such a man-child." Mona murmured as she strolled out of the building, all the way to Damien's sleek, black Mercedes in the parking lot.

The air was still fresh; the night chill still hasn't lifted, but sunrays were beginning to heat up the asphalt.

"You're sitting in the back."

She rolled her eyes, but listened, "Call your mother."

The moment Damien sat on the seat, sweat washed over him; both cold and hot. He texted his mother and started the engine, she was already waiting. During the ten-minute ride, Mona kept quiet, glancing in the rear-view every few seconds, catching Damien's gaze. Concern grew in the car, engulfing them both in sweat.