Chapter Text
Your fingers danced around the rim of your glass, attempting - and failing - to not eavesdrop on the couple next to you. They were arguing about something that seemed petty and stupid to you, something about the guy not liking the girl’s mother; you couldn’t see why it mattered in the first place. Or maybe you were just being pessimistic because you were worried about getting stood up, and as time dragged on, that outcome had begun to seem more and more likely. So you slouched over your drink, chin resting in your hand, bored and alone.
You had told your friend you didn’t want to do the whole online dating scene, but she had pushed you into it, made you a profile and everything. So you went along with it, and you’d met a few guys - no one really special, but when this guy asked you to go to the bar with him, you got excited. I mean, who else did you have to blame but yourself for getting your hopes up? You’d even bought a new outfit; this silly little summer-dress type of thing that stopped just above your knees. It was yellow, and you felt like you stood out in the dim, dingy bar. Even more self-conscious than usual, you dropped your face into your hands, groaning softly. This whole thing was stupid.
A loud slam on the bar made you jolt, sitting upright and whipping your head around to face the sound. To your right, a girl with springy blonde curls swayed on her feet, a dopey grin adorning her face. She slid her mostly empty glass - the apparent source of the sound - across the bar to the bartender, loudly requesting another drink, shouting to be heard over the music and conversations, but unaware in her inebriated state that she was being louder than necessary. You shot her a small smile when she turned to you, her face flushed from drinking and dancing, it seemed.
“Oh,” her jaw dropped open, and she looked you up and down. “My god…”
You braced yourself for the harsh comment on your childish outfit, wincing internally.
“I love that dress! Where did you get it?!” she gasped out, shooting forward to gently touch the skirt of your dress, running her fingers over the material. “O-M-G, it’s so soft too!”
You cringed at her spelling o-m-g out to you, but smiled politely nonetheless. You spun around in your stool, turning to face her. “Oh, uh,” you started, caught off guard by her excitement. “I got it at the mall, actually-”
“Which mall?” she asked, cutting you off, leaning forward as if she was hanging onto your every word.
You let out a nervous laugh, praying for the bartender to hurry up with her drink. She was nice and all, but you just weren’t in the mood for a barrage of questions about your outfit. “Uh, just Quail Springs,” you answered, looking down at the dress in question. Maybe it wasn’t that bad…
The bartender returned with her refilled glass, and she pulled a few crumpled ones from her bra to give him. You crinkled your nose, giving the bartender a sympathetic look, and picked up your own drink from the bar. The girl slammed back her drink, downing half of it in a big gulp, and slammed it back on the counter, her drink sloshing onto the bar. You moved back just in time, the small droplets of her beverage landing near you rather than on you. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, letting out a cheerful ‘whoo!’ through gritted teeth. Before you could even take a sip from your own drink, she was grabbing your arm, trying to pull you from your seat. “C’mon, let’s dance!” she insisted, taking your drink from you and setting it on the bar.
You sighed, letting her pull you to your feet and tug you a few steps away from the bar before stopping her. “I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to reason, pulling your arm from her grasp and holding up your hands in front of you defensively.
She pouted, jutting her lower lip out. “Oh, c’monnn, it’ll be fun!” she once again attempted to convince you, but you held your ground, shaking your head and taking a step back.
“I”m sorry, I should probably head out after this drink anyways,” you told her, slowly walking back to your seat.
She shrugged, giving up, and disappeared onto the make-shift dance floor. You sighed in relief, turning back and making your way to your seat at the bar. You sat down, grabbing your drink, and finished it. After all that, you were more than ready to go home. You slid your empty glass to the bartender, turning down his offer of another, and stood. You stuffed your hands into the small pockets on your dress, grabbing some cash to pay for your drink before heading to the bathroom. It took you a while to find the bathroom sign, and you had to squeeze your way around people to get to them, and by the time you got in and shut the door behind you, you were sweating. Why was it so damn hot in this bathroom?
You sighed, setting your phone on the counter by the sink, and turned the faucet on. You wet your hands with cold water and pressed them to your cheeks, trying to cool yourself down. You noticed your face was a bit flushed, and you figured it was from all the people being so close together. You drug your hands over your dress, patting them dry, and straightened, looking at yourself in the mirror. You reached up, smoothing your hair down, and straightened the sleeves of your dress. Your arms felt heavy, sore, and you frowned, stretching them above your head, Your biceps ached, your muscles feeling weak, and you lowered your arms, reaching up to rub your shoulders. You didn’t remember doing any heavy lifting, so you were confused as to why your arms would be hurting.
Deciding to blame it on being tired, you grabbed your phone, and turned to leave. You reached for the door handle, but your depth perception was off. You stumbled, catching yourself on the door, and closed your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You’d had one drink, there was no way you were drunk. You took a deep breath, opening your eyes and pushing yourself off the wall, feeling unsteady on your feet. Your knees felt wobbly, and it was only getting hotter in the bathroom. Were you sick?
You swallowed, licking your lip, your mouth and throat suddenly dry. You stumbled back to the sink, haphazardly dropping your phone onto the counter, and turned the faucet back on. You cupped your hands under the faucet, leaning down to sip the water from your hands. You felt light-headed, dizzy, and you were briefly concerned with how you were going to get home. You closed your eyes, slumping against the counter, trying to just breathe so you could steady yourself enough to ask the bartender to call you a cab.
The bathroom door swung open, but you hardly acknowledged it. You tod yourself that a drunk girl seeing another drunk girl about to faint in the bathroom at a bar isn’t an uncommon experience, curbing your embarrassment. Unexpected, however, was the large hands that grabbed your shoulders, pulling you away from the sink. You opened your eyes, sticking your hands out to push the person away from you, but your limbs were heavy and your vision was blurry. You could see a man, a tall man, with dark hair. Was he wearing a flannel? You thought you could see glasses on his face, but you couldn’t tell for sure. You grunted, trying to get him off of you, confused as to why a man was in the womens’ restroom anyways. Maybe a girl had seen you in here and got help...or maybe he was just some creep trying to take advantage of you.
You attempted to question his actions, but your voice only came out in slurred groans. He easily held you, supporting your weight as he led you out of the bathroom. You were confused, dazed, lights and faces passing you in slow-motion eeriness. You huffed, stumbling, and you felt his arm tighten around your waist.
“Hey, she alright?” you heard someone say, but you couldn’t pinpoint the direction it came from.
You were pulled closer to him, almost like he was trying to hide you between his side and his arm, like a baby bird under its mother’s wing. “Yeah, just getting her back home,” his voice rumbled from his chest, and you could feel his large frame shift and move with each breath. “She had a little too much to drink.”
With that, he kept walking, leading you out the bar, into the parking lot. You sighed, the cold air a welcomed relief on your hot skin. Moving quicker now, he had to practically carry you to keep you from tripping over your feet. Once again, you tried to question him, ask him who he was or if he was getting you a cab, but you felt drawn into sleep. You could feel him setting you in the backseat of a car, but you just mumbled gibberish, looking around at your unfamiliar surroundings. You eventually heard the car start, felt the familiar rocking of lying in the back of a moving car.
As you fell asleep, you felt him toss a blanket over you from the driver’s seat.