To be so lucky {H.S.} ✔️

Chapter 4

The next morning, I woke up feeling all kinds of crappy. I had a dull headache, my pyjama felt oddly uncomfortable against my skin, my eyelids felt puffy, almost glued together. I thanked the Universe for the gift of Saturday, and that I didn't have to get out of bed any time soon.

I rolled over, reaching an arm out, and stroking my sheets in hopes of finding Oscar. I didn't.

Wait.

I slowly opened my eyes, allowing my brain to process its surroundings. Even with the headache, even in the drowsy state I was in, one thing was clear: I was not in my bedroom. That was not my bed, those were not my sheets. Nothing around me was mine or, even worse, familiar.

Shit.

I examined myself, feeling on edge.

The uncomfortable pyjama I was wearing, was no pyjama after all. It was my blue dress, the one I'd wore to go out the previous night. That made me feel slightly better.

"At least I'm wearing something," I whispered, my tongue feeling as dry as sandpaper.

That realisation wasn't nearly enough to calm my nerves, so I decided the rest of the physical exam could wait until I was safely back at home. It was time to put my brain to work and get the hell out of there.

I spotted my shoes in the left corner of the room, right next to a beautiful navy blue long chair, and quickly jumped out of the bed, ready to run. At least I thought I was. My body, however, had other plans.

As soon as I rose to my feet, a raw wave of nausea hit my throat. I ran in the opposite direction, where I'd spotted a bathroom seconds ago. If I was going to be sick in a stranger's bedroom, at least I'd do it with a little dignity.

Locking the door behind me, I threw myself at the toilet, emptying my stomach contents: mostly bile, and bad decisions.

I flushed when I was done, letting my body slide down the shower wall, my eyes closed. I felt scared, confused, ashamed, all at the same time. I'd spent the last years trying to get my life together, trying to make myself function as a normal human being would. I hoped whatever happened to me last night wasn't enough to ruin everything.

"Just breathe, Nina. Breathe." I told myself, taking a deep breath, trying to focus. A few minutes passed before I opened my eyes, and rose to my feet, getting back to the room.

Now that I had managed to calm myself, and with the toxins out of my body, things seemed clearer. That was no ordinary room. It was a hotel room, and it could only belong to one of two people: either someone who had stolen Harry's sunglasses and clothes, or Harry himself.

Deciding to go with the second thesis, I sat on the bed, feeling slightly relieved. Slowly, memories of last night started to flood my mind.

Harry had been really nice to me. We'd sat in the private VIP room for hours, sipping champagne, and talking.

At first, I'd been suspicious of him, of his intentions.

"Why did you invite me here? And why did you hide your real identity?" I'd carefully asked.

He'd thought about it for a split second. "I'm embarrassed to admit I don't really know the answer to that second question. I mean, I went to the exposition to offer moral support to a friend, one of the featured artists. I'd been there for nearly an hour, trying to keep a low profile, when I saw you." He paused, staring at his hands, looking... Embarrassed?

"There you were, beautifully oblivious to your surroundings, staring at that awful painting, mumbling..."

"I wasn't mumbling!"