Also, there’s no doubt in my mind that Landon is inside that damn house, and if it isn’t Mazie hanging all over him, then it’s some other chick. I don’t have the energy to hide the pain from my face if I see it.
The walk back is slow, but the dorm building is quiet when I enter, most everyone probably at the party just off campus.
I’m taking deep breaths, trying to just get my shit together mentally, when I reach the top of the stairs to my floor. I don’t know if I’m just being overdramatic, but life feels harder than it should these days. My mind is a whir of questions, regrets, and denial. I can’t seem to get a handle on any of it. I’m not exactly spiraling, but I also know it won’t take much for that to happen.
Maybe time alone this evening will prove more beneficial than the previous evenings. Shamefully, I know Landon is the type to close down the party. Information I’ve garnered from watching him even when I know I shouldn’t. He won’t be back anytime soon. I can watch funny videos online or jerk off without the fear of interruption.
It’s going to be a great ni—
“What the fuck?” I mutter as I spot a woman curled up in the hallway across from my door.
I do my best to assess the situation as I slowly approach. Is she hurt? Has she been assaulted?
The closer I get, the better the picture is. She reeks of alcohol, but her clothes are intact.
“Hey.” I nudge her should with my hand. “Are you okay?”
She shifts, turning her face up in my direction, a wide grin on her face.
“Hi,” she whispers, her voice cracking from overuse. There’s no doubt she started her night a little early and went a little too hard right out of the gate.
“Are you okay?” I ask again.
She laughs. “I’m drunk.”
“It seems you are,” I respond, humor in my voice.
“I was trying to get into my room, but I lost my key.” She points to the door across from her… my door.
“That’s my room.”
“That’ll work.” Her head dips in a deep nod she barely has the ability to control. “Bed please.”
I look down the hall and then back over my shoulder. No one is around. Even knocking on the door she’s leaning against doesn’t get a response.
That’s the thing about party nights at Lindell, everyone goes. Campus becomes a wasteland.
“Where’s your room?” I ask, hoping she’ll actually have the right answer this time.
She points down the hall toward the stairwell. She could be indicating the first floor or a different building altogether.
“Bed please.”
I shake my head, knowing I can’t just leave her out here, but I’ve been warned enough, both by my dad and Landon’s, about the perception of taking advantage of people when they’re in such conditions.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I say against my better judgment as I reach under her arms to help her stand.
She doesn’t say anything as I prop her against the wall long enough to get my door open. She’s nearly dead weight as I carry her over the threshold.
“Bed,” she grunts as we move deep enough into the room for the door to close us inside.
Deciding I can just sit in my desk chair until she’s able to tell me where her dorm room is, I get her situated on my bed, stepping away as she snuggles into my pillow. I grab a bottle of water from the case in the closet, a couple of painkillers because she’s going to need those for the headache she’s sure to have, and take a step back.
“And this,” I say more to myself as I scoot the trash can closer to the edge of the bed. “There’s water, Tylenol, and a trash can over here. If you’re going to get sick, please don’t puke on my floor.”
She doesn’t budge, soft sounds of her deep breathing the only sound in the room.
It only takes ten minutes of me sitting in the desk chair to start feeling sorry for myself once again. My plans weren’t exactly newsworthy, but this sucks. Obviously, I’m not going to masturbate when a girl I don’t even know is in the room. That’s a level of fucked up I’m not willing to reach.
I eye Landon’s bed, wondering just how pissed he’d be if he came home with nowhere to sleep, and that’s all the visual image I need. Fuck him.
After turning out the light, I grab my headphones and settle under the coolness of his sheet, knowing there’s a slim chance he’ll even return before the sun comes up.
With music blaring in my ears, I give in to the urge to roll my head on his pillow until the scent of him invades my nose. Being unable to control my urges where he’s concerned is why I know getting over him, accepting in my heart what my brain already knows as fact, will be the biggest struggle of my life.