Dirty Holiday - (18+) (COMPLETED)

Hiccups

After what seemed like an emotional rollercoaster Xander chilled out then handed me a business card with his number on. 'I assume you want my number.' He laughed.

'Yes, I mostly certainly do.' I grinned patting his arm. The business card title read "Beta Rock Accountancy" that was a name hard, strong and a little intimidating, although it sounded familiar so it couldn't be that individual.

'Don't feel obliged to ring.' I smiled up at his attempt at being cool about it. 'But I'd really like it if you did.'

'I'm pretty sure that I'll ring you, if I don't it's because I've lost your number.' I joked.

'Now I feel slightly paranoid that it's going to fly out of your pocket once you leave this plane. Can you give me your number?'

He retrieved his pen that had not long since been inside of me and jotted the numbers on his hand as I read them out. I was into this guy, I wasn't letting him go yet, I needed to know more about him.

'So-'

Xander suddenly jumped up from his seat and wiggled past me.'Back in a second.'

'Oh okay.' Would asking where he was going too...clingy. How could it be clingy, after all we had only just met.

He darted out of sight. I turned and smiled at the other person next to me, but he didn't even register to glance. Maybe he had caught a glimpse of the pen entering places. Oh well, he would get over it, in fact he might learn something from it.

A few minutes later Xander returned juggling several tiny bottles of whisky and two plastic cups.

'This my friend, is for victory.' He said shuffling to sit back down next to me.

I opened the trays as Xander wedged the cups in to the holders.

Each cup could hold three tiny bottles of whiskey and even then the cups weren't full, oh well I wasn't the one paying for it.

'To escaping claws and embracing puppy paws!' Xander cheered as he tapped my cup with his. This journey was going to be one big headache of a blur.

A foul taste in my mouth, my hair matted and my shoes still on was enough to tell me I'd had a rough ride home... Not that I could really remember much of it.

The bedside clock read 9:35, I felt so at ease, my own soft bed beneath me, no fear of having Lucas parade into my room. No sun blaring through cheap hotel curtains, just regular blinds shielding from the usual lack of vitamin D you get in England.

Then I heard the shower running... I sneaked out of bed, grabbed my deodorant can off the table and smoothly tripped over my suitcase. 'Nice move Zofia!' I whispered frantically to myself.

I creaked the bathroom door open, then whipped back the shower curtain spraying the culprit in the eye. He swore then covered up his face with his soaped up hands.

'Zofia!!!'

'Xander?!' I looked closer at his body, oh yes I defiantly remember getting my hands on that. 'What are you doing in my shower?!'

'You were looking...floppy so I brought you home. You passed out so I thought I'd stay and keep an eye on you.'

In a way I found it sweet that he was looking out for me, but the other side of me was wondering what gave him the right to use my shower!

'What motive made you use my shower?' I growled.

'Oh, sorry. I wanted you to wake up seeing someone clean and fresh...' Bull to the shit.

'Xander thank you for bringing me home.'

'Not a problem.'

'Now if you wouldn't mind, get the fuck out of my house!' I screamed as my stomach stabbed.

'Can I at least wash this soap off?' He asked sounding agonized.

'No, GET. OUT.' I said peeling a shoe off my foot and aimed ready to hit him if he refused anymore.

He left the shower running and nearly slipped on the tiled floor scrambling to get away now he had seen my dangerous side.

Finally my front door slammed shut behind the unwanted guest and I was left slumping to the floor in my bathroom. What had I done? How many mistakes did I have to make to realise...

I stretched up and switched off the shower, then leaned over the toilet as the alcohol flooded up my senses.

I'd have never been this ill from alcohol before this holiday, the stress was making me ill. At least I had a few more days before I had to go back to work.

I crawled back to bed defeated and curled my knees up to my chest. I needed rest.

My ringing phone stirred me, I let it ring, each dial sending pins into my brain. Then voicemail kicked in. 'Zofia? I'm sorry about what happened, it was wrong I should have realised how inappropriate it was. I didn't have your permission. I really thought we had a bond. I'd really like to show you how much you mean to me. I'd really like for us to start over--' The answerphone cut off silencing his repeatedly 'really' pleas.

One chance was more than enough, all the comfort I needed right now was in this bed.