Vaughn

1.

My brain felt like it had been soaked in squirt and tequila, the furniture seemed to dance in front of me, and for some reason I had a sour taste in my mouth. What the fuck happened last night? I tried piecing my memories together but everything was popping up like a slideshow—I don't know how I ended up here.

I pushed myself up with my elbows and stayed still as a wave of nausea hit me. I threw up. I remember stumbling towards the toilet and throwing up until the only thing I had left in my stomach was guilt. I was aware of my actions; I shouldn't have left the bar with this stranger.

My best friend Emma and her boyfriend Thomas convinced me to go out. I had walked out of a relationship that was increasingly toxic and it hit me hard. I refused to go out and locked myself in my apartment after my classes. Emma pointed out a few things to me which grew a sense of excitement. For the first time, I was able to wear what I wanted, flirt, and dance with anyone. So that is what I did, I wore a mini skirt and a crop top and danced with whoever asked me.

I was free.

My mistake was to stupidly believe I could drink just as much as Emma. She was able to handle her liquor and not make a complete fool of herself. I wish I could say the same for me. Tequila has never been my friend and I got ballsy—shots! shots! shots! Why didn't someone stop me! Correction, why didn't I stop myself.

I managed to get myself out of the bed and grabbed my clothes from the floor, before stumbling into the bathroom. It was a struggle putting on my clothes, mostly because every movement caused my head to start spinning. I grasped onto the sides of the sink and stared at the mess of a girl. Mascara was smeared above and below my eyes, the red lipstick I once had on was all over my mouth and cheeks. I looked rough. I poured some hand-soap and washed my face—my skin was going to retaliate later.

I had slept with a stranger, unfortunately, I didn't have the power to turn back time so the least I can do is leave with the small amount of dignity I had left. Snatching my heels and handbag from the floor, I reached for the doorknob noticing my hands were shaking. I looked over to the guy one last time hoping to recognize him but there was no point he was a stranger to me. Pushing the guilt aside, I opened the door and stepped into the dark living room.

I was relieved to see my phone in my handbag along with my debit card and cash. I made poor decisions but I manage to keep my belongings, unlike the night of prom. Tequila was involved and my drunk-self thought it was a good idea to throw my handbag into the ocean. I was a fucking idiot.

My phone battery was at five percent, considering how poor the battery quality is, my phone would die before I arrived home. In case of an emergency I'd be screwed and end up dead behind an alley. If I tried calling Emma, I risk my phone dying during the call, then I will be forced to stay here.

Mentality, I wasn't prepared to do the 'walk of shame', the only walk I wanted to do is the one leading me to my bed. I exhaled deeply, calming myself down. In reality, the chances of me ending up killed by my Uber driver were slim. My best option is to figure out my location and take an Uber home.

As I approached the front door, a soft click echoed through the hall and the lock on the door turned to the right. The door opened and the corridor lights blinded me; I squinted my eyes. A tall figure stepped inside and turned on the lights.

My mouth went dry, taken aback by the guy standing in front of me, "Jack..." he turned his whole body to the side, startled to hear someone in the empty hallway.

When his dark brown eyes met mine, I felt my stomach sink to my knees. Four years had passed since the last time we saw each other and with thousands of miles separating our little hometown and New York—here was the last place I thought I'd see him.

"Vaughn?" he sounded confused and narrowed his eyes as if it was going to help him recognize me. "...what are you doing here?"

Now my one night stand was officially the worst decision I have made in my life. What the fuck was I suppose to tell him? The truth was the obvious answer; even after all these years I didn't want him to think badly of me.

It took about a nanosecond for me to come down from my alcoholic state of mind and react to what I was thinking. Jack and I left off on bad terms—I swore if I ever saw him again I'd slap him.

"I am on my way out," I responded, crossing my arms underneath my chest. All I needed was for him to move to the side so I can make my exit.

"You know what I mean," he frowned, giving me one his nasty-glares. Oh, how some things never change. In high school, his looks would've made me confess my entire sins like as if he was a priest.

Tonight, his glare reminded me how much of an idiot I was—thankfully we aren't in high school. I shrugged, "I came home with your roommate," I vaguely recall the guy talking about his roommate being out for the night and having the place to himself

"That is not what I was-" he stopped talking and raised a brow. "wait, you slept with my roommate?"

I nodded slowly, "yeah," I was the one still semi-drunk right? Or was I having some weird delusion and in reality I am home passed out on my toilet. "Can you move? I want to go home,"

"You can't drive. You reek of alcohol!"

"I am taking an Uber, now, move!" I pushed him to the side and left the apartment.

I wasn't in the type of apartments where the door led straight into the outside of the building. I looked to the right side of the hall and saw the glass window; making my way to look outside, I felt sick.

"You are in the Upper East Side of Manhattan," Jack's warm breath tickled the back of my neck.

And for that reason alone, I am so fucked.

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Authors Note:

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