When Zoey and Harry find themselves both calling the same hotel home for an extended time, a friendship begins. A connection that started from convenience is fueled by alcohol, drugs, trauma, music and fun. How will this intense relationship end?
*...
The next few days through the weekend flew by. I wrote, I hung out with Zoey, I had meetings, and I relaxed. We smoked weed on the roof with May and Isla, we raced the night bellman on the luggage carts, we walked through the streets of Chicago in the middle of the night high on Molly and made up insane stories about anyone we passed, we watched shitty television shows, and more than anything, we talked.
She got high and told me tales I knew weren't easy for her to share, like about her abusive father and her only past relationship. I got high and told her stories about my messy break-ups and PR stunts. I shared the pressure I felt and how invisible I could feel. We talked about our opinions and beliefs in the realm of love and marriage, and I learned that Zoey was extremely wise. She was careful and thoughtful and seemed to use perspective as her greatest tool. I learned that she was an expert in pain and heartbreak but chose not to live her life in fear of more around the next corner. She chose to take risks and live in the moment, while still being thoughtful at all times.
I had known her for less than 2 weeks and I could already feel myself falling into dangerous territory with this girl. Craving her, thinking about her constantly, wanting to share everything with her. I didn't even have her phone number, but I was thinking about her multiple times throughout the day and looking forward to seeing her next any time I'm away from her. After I kissed her for the first time I even jokingly told Paul that I wasn't down to help him get the girl anymore, as I had originally promised to do at my check in. I told her "She's mine." He seemed to be expecting that, he didn't seem surprised.
Tonight was Monday night and I was walking back into the lobby after an excellent day in the studio. I was back later than normal, but we had finished writing and recording an entire song today and even though I knew I wasn't allowed to, I needed to show Zoey. I popped my head into the bar and locked eyes with Isla.
"Kermit here?" I called.
"I wish. Haven't seen her today." She called back with a knowing smile. I waved a thanks and headed to the front desk, where Paul was working.
"Hello there, seen Kermit?" I asked him as I approached. He gave me a funny look and I realized I had used my nickname I had began calling her last week. "Zoey. She's kermit now." I informed him with a serious look on my face.
"Oh sure, of course she is." He rolled his eyes at me. "She walked through earlier, I don't think she was feeling well. I didn't see where she went, I'm sorry." Before he even finished I was walking quickly towards the elevator. The idea of her having anything wrong bothered me more than it should but I chose to ignore that little fact.
"Thanks Paul!" I called over my shoulder. I rode to our floor and knocked on her door, but got no answer. I figured she probably didn't want to socialize if she was feeling shitty so I went to my own room to write a note to slide under her door.
I returned to my room after delivering the note and took a long shower and ordered some room service. I tried to concentrate on a movie and failed. I had no desire to sit here alone. I threw a beanie and jacket on over my sweats and slid my feet into my shoes, deciding to head up to the roof for a bit and maybe write some more or call my mom.
After following the trail that Isla and May had shown us the other day (elevator to certain floor, then secret doorway and secreter staircase. Make sure to prop open the door.) when I reached the door to the roof it was already propped open. I stepped out and let the door come to a rest on the prop slowly to not disturb whomever else was around.
I didn't see anyone else up there so I figured the coast was clear and walked over to the comfortable area that we had visited previously. It had a safe place to sit but was close to the edge with an unbelievable view of the windy city. As I approached our spot, I noticed a small person already laying flat on their back in the exact place. I recognized the beat up checkered sneakers and sat down next to her, lifting her feet into my lap. Her arm was slung over her eyes and she had a partial joint in between 2 fingers of her other hand, which was resting on her stomach. It seemed to have burned out a while ago.
I studied her breathing and noticed it was labored, then looked up to her face and even beyond her arm covering part of it, I could see tear tracks. Her beautiful full lips were turned down slightly, which was so uncommon to see on this particular face. I sat for a moment, fighting with myself. My common sense told me that she might need space, she might not need someone here. My irrational adoration of her shouted at me to pull her into my arms and fix it. Fix whatever it is, all of it, do anything she needs done to bring the smile back. I compromised, standing and sliding out from under her feet carefully and moving to crouch by her head. I brushed my hand along her jaw, pressing my lips near her ears so she could hear me on this loud roof. I kissed her ear once before asking "Kermit...can I help? Or do you want space?"
After a few long seconds she moved her arm and turned to look at me, my heart spasming and breaking in my chest at the pain in her eyes. "Please stay. You can't help but you can be here." She whimpered, but I managed to hear her. In less than one full second I had her gathered up in my arms, pulled her into my lap on the ground. She wound herself around me, arms and legs holding my torso tight as I slid my hands into her hair and held her head to my neck. I felt her tears trickle down my throat as she shook with sobs against me. I raised my knees, moving her even closer to me as I tried absorbed as much of her pain as I could, just wanting to take it all from her small body.
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(I know, I know. Use your imagination with me here...)
Zoey's POV
Today I had faced a reality that I have been choosing to ignore for the last month. My survival chances. I've known, somewhere in the back of my mind I've definitely known that more likely than not my story was coming to a conclusion. I wouldn't say I had come to peace with it so much as I have allowed it to be fact. I didn't have choice but to allow it. Suddenly today though, looking at it on paper as I knew the toxic medicine was entering my body through a port in the side of my chest, causing a horrible and bitter taste in my mouth, I really saw it. I understood it in the most basic way possible.
