Birthday girl (Dan Smith fanfic)

chapter 7

Hi there to anyone who actually reads my story. Thank you for doing so! I hope you like this new chapter, I would love it if you left some comments on the story so far. / Kris 

I was running on a street, in a village, it was so dark I could barely see. I glanced over my shoulder, someone was chasing me, but I couldn’t see their face. I ran as fast as I could but he had a gun. There was a loud noise. I opened my eyes. There was a thump coming from the upper neighbour, as if they dropped something heavy on the floor. I quickly closed my eyes back because there was too much light. Ok, so the shooting thing was in my dream. But when I opened my eyes for that brief moment the room didn’t look familiar at all. And I have no neighbour above me, I live in a house. So I’m not in my own bed.

The air was thick and humid. I inhaled deeply. The room stank of sex. Jeez, where the hell am I? And did I have sex with someone? I opened my eyes again and sat up, my head began throbbing just the second I lifted it. I looked around. The curtains are pulled apart, the sunshine beaming in through the window, irritating my eyes. No other person in the room.

There’s a desk in the opposite corner, sheets of paper scattered on it, a plate and a mug on the top. There are some clothes dropped on the floor, more on the beanbag next to the window. I would love to have a beanbag. Shame it’s so big, I surely can’t take that with me, can I? I pushed back the duvet and found myself in an unkown t-shirt. This is definitely not what I was wearing last night.

I walked to the wall opposite the window, there were a few pictures hung on it. Photos of people. There was this one guy that was on all of them. Oh my God that’s the guy from last night! The weirdo! I’m in his bedroom?! I sat on the beanbag, pushing the clothes away. Some of them fell to the floor, but I doubt he would care. I had to recollect my memories. We were leaving the club, and the guy came over. The girls left me there. And I remember the drunk guy’s unbelievably smelly house. The weirdo took me to a bar. I had tequila. But I remember agreeing to just one drink and then going home. I remember there were more drinks had, but I couldn’t figure out how I got here. Or what happened after leaving the pub. I don’t even remember leaving the pub. Shit, I screwed up.  Also, where is the guy? Where are my clothes? And where’s my purse? There was a clock on the bedside table, I checked it. 10.30. I feel strange here, I need to get home. If only I just had my clothes. They must be somewhere outside the room. I walked to the door. Here’s hoping he lives alone and no stranger will see me dressed in a t-shirt and panties. Come to think of it, I clearly took care of that already... I didn’t hear any indication of anyone else being outside. I pushed down the handle slowly, as if there was something really scary or dangerous waiting for me on the other side. Of course, there was nothing to be afraid of outside. I walked down the poorly lit hallway and into what seemed to be the living room. I found my shorts and bra on the way and quickly put them on. There on the floor laid my top. I swapped the unfamiliar t-shirt with it. Much better. Oh, there’s a post-it stuck onto the front door. There were 2, actually. One with writing on it and the other one seemed to be a mobile number.

Hey Lindsey,

I’m so sorry, I had to get up early to get to a thing. There’s food in the fridge, fresh towels under the sink in the bathroom. Also, I left a spare key on the kitchen counter, take it with you and you can give it back later.

Also, here’s my number. I never got yours, so please, can you text me or something?

Have a nice day,

xx

Dan

What the... ? I checked the counter and found the key. Cool, that’s all I need. Did he really think I would stay and have breakfast and all? Last night was such a huge mistake. I never should have gone to the pub. Who knows what we did after that? And what if I said something I don’t mean anymore? I probably have, judging by the little message he left. I spotted my purse under a chair. Finally! I ran to the bathroom, washed my face a little and brushed my hair with my fingers to make it look acceptable. I’ll just call a taxi, that way I won’t have to worry about finding my way. But what’s the address? I saw some mail on the little table in the living room. They were all to a Mr Daniel C Smith, and all had the same address. That has to be it. I drag my phone out of the purse and made the call, I gave them the address from the envelope.