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Camilla knew she was drunk.
It was evident really, because she was no longer feeling the stabs of pain in her chest, nor the ache that had travelled all the way to her stomach when she first started. No, Camilla no longer hurt.
She felt the perspiration against her forehead, with beads of sweat trailing down the side of her face from the cheeks – that she had felt.
It was hot in the pub since the air conditioning had apparently broken over the weekend, which she'd found out from the bartender once she had loosened up. Steve – that was his name. Despite his earlier reservations, he'd spoken to her throughout the night. And served her drinks. Many, many drinks. She'd got to the point where she had lost count of how many exactly.
"I think it's time you were cut off," he said, just as she'd finished her most recent glass. Perhaps her third? She wasn't nearly drunk enough yet, so she shook her head and placed a five pound note on his outstretched hand. Of course, he'd been expecting the glass back, not money. "Love, as much as I'd love to serve you more drinks, you're pissed and you need to get home. Ask somebody to pick you up."
Camilla frowned at him. "I'm not pissed," she announced. "I'm pissed at the fact that you refuse to serve me. I'm giving you money, just take it and give me a coke."
She brushed her hair back and felt the hot breeze against her neck. Beside her, two men discussed something as they inhaled their beers. That was the difference between them – they were there to socialise whilst she was drowning in her own mistakes. I'm resorting to alcohol, she thought to herself with a laugh. A bitter laugh.
Steve didn't respond to her either way, he reached onto the counter and took her phone. She'd fished it out earlier by mistake and her fumbling fingers wouldn't allow her to return it back to its place. "Hey!"
He raised a finger at her and tapped into her phone. This should have concerned her really and normally it would, but she couldn't figure out why. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, positioning her palm on the curve of her cheek. "I stripped for this guy the other day," she blurted out abruptly and opened her eyes. Steve's lips curved at her revelation. "And he didn't want to have sex with me. I'm attractive, right? I just don't understand it."
Steve returned the phone in front of her and leaned on his fore arms. "He's a fucking idiot then,"
Camilla suddenly felt defensive of Storm and shook her head in denial, "He's a good guy." She felt herself murmuring as her eyes shut again. A silence followed her breathing after this, until she felt an arm nudging her arms. She groaned and pushed at it – nudging it away from her, despite the air around her smelling like sweat and alcohol.
"Camilla, come on,"
She was pulled backwards and stumbled into a warm body. The scent engulfed her and she opened her eyes, gazing back at the eyes of Storm. He looked tired, but his gaze scorched her – burned her and she pulled herself back. "I'm fine," she muttered, but it took an increased amount of concentration to remain steady.
