Less Than Nothing

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Why is this place so fucking confusing?

I must've taken about fifteen wrong turns trying to find the exit. Frustrated, and overstimulated aren't the words.

The flashing lights and pounding of the bass were cute when the night was still young. But now it's late. I'm drunk. I'm tired, and I want my bed.

There's nothing I crave more than to take a hot shower, and pass out naked under my two hundred dollar plush duvet.

I don't even care that Ryan was a dick to me.

I just want to get out of here.

I never was much of a party girl. An ideal night for me consists of a few glasses of wine on my couch, in my comfiest pair of silk pajamas. Sushi. Crème brûlée. Then, when I'm full and tipsy, I'd get under my sheets and watch reality tv until I fall asleep.

That's more fulfilling than any of this will ever be.

People continue to pour into this place, their sweaty bodies flooding the dance floor.

I'm bumped, pushed and passed around as I make my way through the crowd of dancing people. Am nauseous as hell by the end of it, but I finally find the exit.

One of the best parts about a night out is when you finally leave. The fresh, crisp October air feels like a reward. I take a moment to bask in the tingling sensation of my burning skin. My lungs feel brand new.

But my feet hurt like a motherfucker.

Fucking Ryan, I curse him in my head as I trudge up the sidewalk. My apartment building is only a few blocks away, so walking is the most practical solution. In the time I'd spend waiting for an Uber, I would already have made it back.

I can't lie and say that I'm not terrified though.

It's the middle of the night, and I'm an intoxicated woman walking home alone. In New York City. That's quite unsettling. I usually carry mace, but didn't feel like I would need it tonight so I left it.

Bad choice.

Worst comes to worst, if anybody tries their luck, they'll be met with my stiletto to the head.

Death by Loubitin. Going out in style.

"Hey..." A voice catches up to me from behind. "Where are you going?" It's Ryan, and he sounds out of breath.

"Oh, now you speak." My voice is flat. I continue my stroll forward.

"Alex." He speed walks beside me. "Stop."

"Please leave me alone."

What I wanted to say is, 'Go fuck yourself!' but I don't have the energy to yell.

This time, he ends up in front of me, and stops me in my tracks.

"What's your problem? Why did you leave?"

"My problem?" I give him a passive aggressive laugh. "You've been awful to me this entire night. A night you invited me to, might I add!"

His face hardens, a sliver of guilt plastered on it.

Ryan can be an asshole at times, I knew this from the very moment we met. But something about tonight felt different. His harshness felt so intentional.

Like I've done something to him.

"Alex," He sighs. "I'll take you home. Come on. Let's go."

"No thanks. Not going anywhere with you."