One More Night

4

Margo stepped out of her shower five weeks later, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach as she started to get ready for the night ahead of her. Her head throbbed as she dried her legs off and put nonscented lotion on - the kind she only used when she got a new tattoo. This was her twelfth tattoo, and though she usually could abstain from getting them, her idea was too good.

Now, on Margo's collarbones, two dragons were on each side. She liked to say that it was due to her creative mind, but it was because the brunette hated odd numbers. Ever since her eleventh, she had been unable to focus and was off her game. So, she sucked it up and got another one a few weeks after her encounter with Rio.

She had swept the mystery man from her mind, except on nights that ended with "Y." It bothered the woman as she rubbed in the lotion after patting her collarbones dry. Margo didn't know why he took up such a large portion of her brain - she'd never see him again, and she was okay with that.

'Damn it, I am 32,' she thought to herself as she towel-dried her hair. 'I shouldn't be hung up on a man I just met.' She licked her lips, gripped the sides of the brass sink, and looked into the brass mirror that hung on the painted black walls. She stared at the abyss that swam behind the amber eyes staring back at her.

The brunette took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let it out slowly. Margo was anxious to the point that no amount of Xanax would calm her down. She'd know; she had tried it in the past. When Margo left Lukas, it felt as though her whole world had fallen apart.

Margo took a moment to reflect that it had fallen apart at 24, but now she was 32. It was time for her to live. That was why she had accepted a date with a kind, blonde man she had met at Tilt two of the three times she had been there. Robert was obsessed with Tilt precisely because he could get into the DJ booth and make a room of people go "apeshit," as he previously said, with stars lined in his eyes.

She opened her eyes and started preparing for the night out without her two friends. She threw on an upbeat playlist to help her deal with the existential dread. The towel was wet on her hands as she threw it over the glass of her shower door. Thoughts turned into lyrics as she started mindlessly rubbing at her skin with her favorite face wash and washed it off after she had finished. Margo's phone went off, and a random number started calling her.

It was a Michigan number, and even though she was half-tempted to pick it up, she knew it was a scam and didn't want to waste her time. Yet something in the back of her head made her think of him. Margo didn't want to think about Rio. He was an enigma, someone she didn't need around in her life. So, instead of listening to her heart, she listened to her head and forwarded the call to her voicemail.

Margo walked into the closet attached to the master bathroom - an addition she had to make as the closet space wasn't nearly ample enough for her shopping habits - and tried to pick out an outfit that made her feel hot. It would be her first date in years, and she wanted to ensure that she felt pretty. She figured a leopard print mini-skirt with an oversized white shirt would look good. She stretched her basic black belt through the loops and then searched for a pair of shoes that would look good with her outfit.

She settled on a pair of black boots and put them off to the side as she exited the master suite. It was the end of September, and she knew it was only time before she had to break out her puffy winter jacket, but it wasn't too early for a cute pair of boots.

The woman entered her bedroom and settled down on the pink cushioned stool she had paired with a light wooden vanity. The vanity was the only piece of furniture that wasn't a shade of pink. She had contemplated painting it a bright hot pink to match the cushioned stool she bought at a T.J. Maxx on a Friday afternoon when she should've been at work. Margo knew better, though; eventually, her mind would wander, and she'd repaint the room. She had changed her bedroom decor multiple times in the past three years and hoped that all of the pinks would soothe her mind for a while.

Not only were her walls the lightest shade of baby pink, but her bedframe was also brick pink (and shaped like a flower but looked more like a clamshell). The nightstands were reminiscent of ballet shoes, and her rug was made up of pink and cream swirls. She looked down at the wooden floor that she had helped put down. Margo felt pride as she thought of everything she had done with her house, all of the renovations she had made, but then realized she was stalling getting ready before her date.

In truth, Margo was nervous. She knew she attracted attention, but every time someone came around her, she was a bitch. It was her method of self-defense. He had been a lively man the two times she had met Carter. He always wore a sure smile when he looked at her and seemed serious when he needed to be. He was a charmer, that was definite.

Sunlight peaked through the window as she sat down and started her skincare routine. The Black Keys classic hit "Gold on the Ceiling" began to blast through her phone speakers. Unable to sit down, she started dancing and singing to one of the few songs that made her feel like her bones were on fire.

Music affected Margo in ways nothing else could. It was one of those things she couldn't live without. Her life comprised concerts; she even managed a record store in her town. Nothing made her happier than listening to the cacophony of a live event.

When the song ended, so did her small dance. She felt exhilarated as she finished her regimen and dabbed on concealer, contour, and a small amount of blush. She never liked the feeling of foundation on her skin, so she skipped the step altogether.

After applying her mascara, she decided she looked good enough to go out and walked down the steps to the threshold.

Grabbing the keys to her Toyota, she locked the door behind her and stepped down the stairs. She took a moment to look back at her green house, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Despite not thinking she'd make it, she had. She was grateful for every step along the way because it landed her here. She had a best friend, a frenemie, and a house.

The only thing she was missing was a bird. She thought of birds as most did cats and dogs. She found the smaller ones adorable and had a room that could be used to make a room for one. It was always Margo's wish to own a bird, specifically a Cockatiel.

The thought of a bird made her think of the man she met five weeks ago—specifically, his eagle tattoo. She wondered what it stood for and why he had gotten it in that exact spot. She thought of how he became cold when she told him she wanted him. She felt ashamed of her brazenness toward Rio and knew it was most likely the alcohol talking, but she couldn't shake the feeling of hurt when he declined her offer.

She knew it was for the best, however. She wanted more than he could offer and would feel worse when he left the following day.

She knew he would, too. He didn't seem like the type to stick around. He was trouble.

Shaking her head, Margo wiped the slate clean of Rio and began the journey to her first date in eight years.