It's Always the Quiet Ones [ON HOLD]

Chapter 5 - Dallas to the Rescue

He knew it before he opened his eyes. Lana Parker was gone. For a moment, he wondered if he had dreamed the entire thing, but he rolled over, and the smell of jasmine wafted from the other pillow, filling his nostrils with her enticing scent.

Scott groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. He wasn't the type to want a girl to stay, but he wanted Lana to stay for the rest of his life, and he felt oddly rejected at her absence. He hadn't felt rejected in years. Had she intentionally sneaked out, wanting to avoid an awkward morning after?

There was no way that he had imagined their connection the night before.  Nothing in his life had ever felt more right than having Lana in his arms. He'd be damned if he let her walk away now. He sat suddenly, jumping out of the bed and grabbing for his underwear. He slipped them on and hurried into the hallway, when he suddenly froze, a startling realization bringing him to his knees. He didn't have her number. He didn't know where she worked or have her address. He didn't know if she was just in town visiting Hanover, or if she still lived there.

Panic filled him when he realized that he had lost her for the second time. He had allowed her to waltz right out of his life. Why hadn't he asked her anything about her life? He had been so focused on making love to her, he hadn't thought that she might run. She was finally in his arms, and he hadn't imagined her ever being anywhere else. What a fool he had been!

Scott buried his head in hands, surprised by his sudden need to cry. Instead, he fought the tears, and raced to the bathroom, nauseated at the thought of all he'd lost. Minutes later, his chest aching from dry heaving, he stumbled into his kitchen. He opened the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of vodka. He opened the lid and took a gulp straight from the container, relishing the burn he felt down his throat.

Carrying the bottle into his living room, he settled on his couch and turn on the television. He stared blankly at SportsCenter while he continued to purge thoughts of Lana from his mind with the curing qualities of alcohol.

He wasn't sure how many hours had passed, but he had long ago tuned out the buzzing of his cell phone, and he stared blankly at the television, unaware of what was currently onscreen. He had slept off and on throughout the afternoon, but his dreams had been haunted with visions of his night with Lana. All his childhood dreams had come true in that one night, but he felt like he had been sucker punched to realize the next morning it had all been a joke. It had been easier always wondering what it would be like to have her, to hold her in his arms all night. Now that he knew, the grief was debilitating.

He glared hazily at the empty vodka bottle. It hadn't relieved him of his memories like it usually did. It hadn't softened his heartbreak. It hadn't erased the memory of her mouth open and eyes glazed as she shuddered in ecstasy that he had brought her.

His head pounded and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Visions of her lips, swollen from his kisses, flashed in his mind. He pictured her sparkling blue eyes, full of arousal. His head continued to pound, and he groaned before tucking his legs to his chest and leaning his head on the back of the couch.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Scott jerked at the sudden intrusion, only then realizing the incessant pounding wasn't a headache but the front door. He glared at Dallas, angry at the disruption. If the only memories he had of Lana were heartbreaking ones, he still didn't want to let them go.

"She left," he muttered, his tone broken.

"What? Who left?"

Dallas looked completely baffled, but Scott couldn't say her name. It made what happened more real. He ran his hands harshly across his face.