I lay there in the darkness, still deflated. Light and sound muted, only the deafening reality of my thoughts. Brooke’s words hung in the air, “stop thinking about him,” she’d said looking at me, feeling sorry for me. Lying in the bed, thinking about Ethan and Myles’ intentions was pathetic. Wondering why he hadn’t called, was pitiful. I couldn’t just lie there and keep regurgitating the past, it was ruining me. Something inside me was pleading for me to do something. Anything. But, it had to be drastic. An urgency washed over me, as if being inside a second longer would literally suffocate me. It still wasn’t clear what possessed me, but the next thing I knew, I was in the Cosmopolitan, weaving through crowds of twenty-somethings who’d spontaneously combusted with sex and booze. At the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor of the Chandelier Bar, Swarovski crystal curtains enveloped a velvety heliotrope haven. Hues of aubergine and teal made up most of the decadent décor.
