echo // hemmings [completed]

two | 2am

—August 18th—

She sat up to the sound of the doorbell and attempted to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Her feet sank into the off-white carpet as she stood up and she moved slowly and wearily across the room. The girl opened the cream-colored blinds to allow a muted white light into her bedroom. She was in no hurry to attend to the doorbell, now ringing at an erratic pace.

After all, it was far too early to welcome a guest. It was the time when the moon was still up and people were pouring out of clubs and bars. She tiredly approached the door and twisted the tarnished silver knob. Only to reveal a boy with a mess of sandy-colored curls and the scent of alcohol burned into his trace. He clung to the railing drowsily and looked up at her. His lips were turned up in a crooked smile.

"Who are you?" He asked her in a slurred tone. He was clothed in a dark shirt and black jeans. The girl looked at him and let out a sigh. His eyes were half open and his cheeks were flushed. It was hard to see someone so close to her age like this. He smiled at her again and she shut her door.

Living in the motel had accustomed her to things that you shouldn't be. The high and confused had become regular visitors, girls leaving not much to the imagination became an installation on weekend nights, and boys with sloppy grins asking questions were nothing foreign.

She returned to her bed, but soon enough the ringing had changed to knocking. She tried to sleep through it, but after five minutes it sounded like her door was taking a beating and there was no way she was paying to fix it. 

So once again she was back at the door. But this time when she opened it, he was sitting cross-legged on the ground among cigarette buttes and chewed gum. "Please leave," she requested with little patience. "This is room 215 of Motel 91. I live here and I know you have no business with me. So please call a cab at the phone booth across the street." She gave him the same message she told every other unwelcome guest.  Usually, they cursed at her or said thanks after hearing her dismiss them. But this time, her guest widened his eyes in response, as if he was in realization of something. But the girl didn't give him a second thought and as before, she closed the door and went back inside.

"Riley?! Riley is that you?!" The boy called. Fists were hitting the grey door and his voice was desperate, needy almost. "It's me, Ashton! Riley is that you?!" He continued. She did not open the door for him, instead, she stood in front of it in silence, waiting for the sound to cease. Yet Ashton didn't stop, he kept calling a name she didn't recognize.

"My name is Rowan," she finally said after moments of hesitation. "Go away, there is no one named Riley here," she stated sternly. The pounding stopped, but no footsteps were heard.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you have her voice," he told Rowan. "You sound just like her." His voice was tender like he was recalling a warm dream. That remark caught Rowan off-guard. She was the kind of person who always had a response ready, but this time she didn't.

"Who's Riley?" She asked in confusion. But she immediately covered her mouth with her hand as soon as the words came out.

"She's just someone I used to know," he said. "A girl I loved." Ashton's voice cracked and Rowan could swear he was on the verge of tears. But she still didn't open the door. She kept the barrier up between herself and the boy.

"What happened to her?" Rowan murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. There was a pause, and Rowan had thought that the boy had passed out.

"She fell in love with my best friend. Typical love story of a drunk guy at 2 am right?" He let out a soft chuckle. "And then she left and he's left as an utter mess."

"Why'd she go?" Rowan asked as she began to find herself in a conversation with the odd stranger.

"She... She didn't have a choice in the situation," Ashton almost laughed as he choked back the tears.

The boy swallowed hard and gazed at the door, thinking about the girl behind it; the girl with Riley's voice. Tears burned the back of his eyes as there was a silence between the two. "I'm drunk, heart-broken, and talking to a girl I don't know in a place I have never seen before," Ashton muttered to himself. "Fucking pathetic."

"There's nothing pathetic about missing someone," Rowan spoke up. She bit her tongue as she finished her phrase, knowing his words weren't meant for her to hear.

"Thanks, Rowan, but it is pathetic when I'm grieving over my best friend's girlfriend. And he's the one that's hospitalized." Ashton almost felt like making fun of himself. He was in no position to say anything about Riley when she was never his.

"He's hospitalized?" Her voice grew concerned. Rowan's hand hovered over the doorknob but didn't dare to undo the lock.

"Forget about it alright? I should probably go grab a cab or something. Nice chatting with you even though it wasn't much of a chat." Ashton stood up and attempted to pat the dirt off his pants. "Good night."

"Good night Ashton," she whispered his name as if it could break glass. And soon, there were footsteps, growing quieter as Ashton traveled down the stairs, away from the girl who held a sliver of his memory of Riley. Rowan stayed by the door, her thoughts wrapped around the mysterious girl and the boy who reeked of alcohol. She kept listening, waiting for the footsteps to fade out. And eventually, they did.

-

a/n: i swear this isn't some random filler