luck for the night - rl.

8. did you start smoking again?

Confusion mixed with happiness in my insides as I let the soft fabric slip around my shoulders. A smokey aroma surrounded me, mixed with some kind of cologne and something that I could only describe as well, Remington.

What did this all mean? Did this mean that this had been more than just a night of fun too? No, that couldn't be it: I had already run out of luck last night, with everything that had happened after midnight.

He probably did not want to rush back to his hotel, and then to the airport, in nothing but a jacket and a skirt. Albeit, my Slytherin shirt and that skirt were not much less of an odd outfit.

I put down the little piece of paper, grabbing the last of yesterday's discarded clothes from the floor. I wore the same pair of leather pants with the corset top. And if I had this cool jacket now, I would wear it, I decided. I threw it on before looking in the mirror. It looked surprisingly good. Except for my eyes, where dark traces of make-up still lingered, even after showering.

I took off my make-up, letting my eyes rest for today, and gathered my clothes, make-up, and other miscellaneous stuff that had scattered through the hotel room during my short stay.

And of course, the little teabag, with Remington's barely readable trade offer. I was confused, though. Why would he just leave this? If he really had as good of a time as he said he did, why wouldn't he leave anything else, like his phone number? Or was he one of those people, that left you looking for their Instagram page? But he was in a band, shooting him a dm would be futile.

But wait, what if... I turned the piece of paper around, but the only thing I saw was the well-known image of lemongrass and ginger. I scanned the letters on the back, but once again, nothing.

Oh well, I shrugged, pushing away the twinge of disappointment cutting through my insides. Maybe it actually was an ending, how much I might hate that.

I checked the whole hotel room one more time, making sure I did not leave anything behind, before going down to the lobby, backpack on my back and the roses Remington had given me yesterday in a paper cup with some water, checking out of the room.

It felt weird. I felt weird. As if I was leaving something behind, forgetting something. But I would never forget last night, how I immediately felt so at home with a stranger. How his spikey hair fell in front of his face as he leaned in to kiss me, how he had made me feel when we were under the sheets...

I shook my head. Stop, Rylin, and pay attention to your surroundings! I was walking outside, and yes, I did almost cross the street without looking. Luckily, there were no cars passing by. Disoriented, I looked around. I had to get home, well, to my parent's house.

I knew my bank account was begging me to take the tube, but the thought of being smushed into a train carriage with a ton of people on the Central Line made my insides churn. So, I hailed the first black taxi I saw. Expensive, yes, but also comfortable. And I definitely needed some comfort right now, with this hangover still lingering in my body.

***

My parent's house was the same as it had been all throughout my childhood and teenage years. The front door was still stuck when you opened it, the scent of my mother's favourite candles welcoming you as you entered. The same coats on the coat rack, my dad's fancy ones that he rarely wore, the same stickers spelling out my name on the second door to your right.

And of course, my mother walked into the hallway as soon as she had heard me struggle with the door, a smile from ear to ear.

"Rylin!" She hugged me as if she hadn't seen me in years. Honestly, I did not come to visit very often, anymore. This place reminded me of moments I'd rather not remember.