CHAPTER FIVE: FOREIGN BEDROOMS

Carissa was tucked away in a secluded corner of the room, sipping beer out of a plastic cup. The party was growing louder and more crazy by the second. With every drink she took, it seemed that another slew of partygoers came through the front door. After being shouldered out of the kitchen by a particularly rowdy bunch, she sought refuge in the living room. It wasn't any less noisy there, but at least it offered more space for the noise to occupy.

It had been quite awhile since she'd attended such a wild party, and it was the first time she'd attended one without Cody by her side. At that realization, Carissa gulped down another frothy mouthful, holding in a heavy sigh. She had never believed herself to be the type of woman who needed a man in her life in order to feel comfortable, but she was starting to rethink that assumption. Maybe she was far less secure in her own skin than she had always thought.

"Reese, quit being such a wallflower and get your ass over here!" Jackie slurred from across the room.

Carissa forced a smile and reluctantly moved through the thick crowd of people between her and her best friend. True to form, Jackie had transformed into a regular social butterfly only minutes after stepping into Taylor's house. She wasn't even that nice, but it was her blunt, sarcastic personality that drew people in like magnets—even total strangers whom she had never met before and would likely never see again. Carissa, on the other hand, had a much harder time making friends or even just casual acquaintances. Where Jackie was bold and outspoken, Carissa was quiet and withdrawn, careful not to reveal too much of herself around people she didn't know or trust.

She had to admit that there were days when she wished she could be more like her friend; when she hated herself for being so private, so guarded, so unwilling to let down the walls around her heart. But she had been that way for so long that she wasn't sure how to change, or if change was even possible at this point.

"Where'd Pretty Boy run off to, anyway?" Jackie knocked into her shoulder carelessly, nearly causing her drink to slosh over the rim of the cup. Carissa shot her friend a warning look, but was nevertheless relieved that she hadn't spilled beer all over her brand-new shirt.

She shrugged. The last time she'd seen Taylor had been well over an hour ago (not that she was keeping track or anything) when Marty had forced him to do a keg stand. While it had been an amusing sight to witness, Carissa couldn't help feeling badly for him. Taylor was a good sport and took it all in stride, but she could sense that his heart wasn't in it. The smile on his lips seemed like part of an act; not a pretentious charade, but a mask he wore to hide what was really going on inside.

Taylor had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Yet there was a hint of sadness in them, a darkness that passed over them like a storm cloud when he thought no one else was looking. Carissa wondered what—or rather, who—had caused that pain and how long he'd been carrying it around.

She had only just met Taylor, but she already felt that she could relate to him. While Zac wasn't quite the party animal that Marty appeared to be, he was known to invite friends to her condo on a whim to drink and watch movies, leaving Carissa with two options: to lock herself in her bedroom like a total recluse, or to hang out with them even when she didn't want to. There were certain nights when she desired nothing more than to curl up in her pajamas with a good book and a glass of wine and block out the rest of the world for awhile, but they always seemed to coincide with Zac's plans to have people over until the early hours of the morning.

She couldn't get mad at Zac, though—if it weren't for him, she'd have no social life at all. She had grown so accustomed to spending all of her free time with Cody and his tight-knit circle of friends that once they split up, she truly felt lost and alone. She was still stuck in that awkward transition period where their mutual friends (who had always been more his than hers, anyway) kept their distance to avoid causing any unwanted drama. In fact, Zac was the only one who had remained close to them both after the breakup.

Carissa was only mildly surprised when she felt her phone vibrating through the fabric of her purse a moment later. She didn't even need to glance down at Zac's name on the screen to know exactly who was calling. He was prone to drunk-dialing and was no doubt already several beers in by that point.

"It's Zac," she announced to Jackie, glancing up to find that her best friend was nowhere to be seen.

Typical, Carissa thought to herself.

Leave it to Jackie to drag her to a party in a house full of strangers and then abandon her. Deciding to ignore her intoxicated negligence, Carissa put the phone to her ear and called out a greeting, only to be met with dead silence.

She frowned as she fought her way out of the room and into what looked to be a relatively quiet hallway. Zac was an unpredictable drunk. Alcohol either made him very hyper and affectionate or very depressed, and Carissa wondered which side of him would rear its head that night. As it were, it didn't take long for her to find out.

"She's here." When Zac finally spoke, his voice was thin and shaky, like he was on the verge of tears.

Just then, a giggling couple turned the corner and claimed a spot against the wall beside Carissa. Her mouth hanging open in shock, she watched as they proceeded to strip each other's clothes off right in front of her, clearly too far gone to even notice her presence.

"Hang on," Carissa mumbled into the phone, breezing past the drunk couple as quickly as she could manage. She spotted what looked to be a spare bedroom through a dimly lit doorway and slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her.

"Okay, sorry about that. What's up?"

Pausing by the neatly-made bed sheathed in a brilliant blue comforter, Carissa took in her surroundings. The room gave off a sterile vibe, like it had never been lived in before; aside from the Wii console on the dresser and a framed print of Starry Night hanging on the wall behind her, it was shockingly barren. Convinced that she was indeed inside of a guest bedroom with a very slim chance of being interrupted, she lowered herself onto the edge of the mattress and took another long sip of beer.

"Zac?" she repeated after swallowing, realizing that he hadn't answered her.

"I know I should just stay away, but I can't... I had to see her. And now I've fucked things up beyond repair." He let out a strangled noise that sounded like something caught between a sigh and a sob. "God, Reese, why can't I let her go?"

"Whoa, slow down. Who did you see? What happened?"

Carissa set her cup down on the bedside table, fighting the urge to lean back into the pillows stacked against the headboard. She'd had such a long day at work, and she hadn't noticed just how exhausted she was until she sat down.

But before Zac could respond, a door in the far corner of the room swung open and there stood a bare-chested Taylor, a black towel knotted around his waist, wet locks of hair falling into his eyes.

Shit, she cursed silently, her heart rate picking up.

"Zac? I need to hang up right now, but I'll call you back as soon as I can," she promised breathlessly, ending the call with a quivering thumb before dropping her phone back into her purse.

Under any other circumstances, Carissa would have given Zac her undivided attention during an evident time of need. She knew that drinking sometimes brought out the worst in him, but it was rare for him to sound so blatantly sad and unhinged. But as worried about Zac as she was, she found it impossible to focus on anything but the intensity of Taylor's blue eyes as they searched hers from across the room.

"Hey." He ran a few fingers through his damp hair, his lips curved into a questioning grin.

"This is your room, isn't it?" she asked quietly, her anxiety only increasing when he nodded. "Of course it is... I'm so sorry. My roommate called and sounded like he was in trouble, so I came in here to try and talk to him."

To Carissa's surprise, Taylor laughed, filling the room with a cheery lightness that it previously lacked. Despite how rattled and embarrassed she was, she cracked a smile as well, unable to resist the charm coming off of him so easily.

"Don't even worry about it," he said, waving one hand through the air while securing his towel in place with the other.

He then glanced around the room slowly, appearing to scrutinize every single nook and cranny, as if he too had landed in a foreign bedroom unexpectedly. As if he were seeing it all for the very first time. And maybe she was imagining things, but she swore she caught a trace of longing in his eyes as they lifted from the carpet to her face. But then it was gone, and Taylor was poking through the chest of drawers behind him. Taking that as her cue to leave, Carissa stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles in her tunic to avoid staring at the muscles rippling through his arms and back as he bent down.

"Oh, you don't have to go. You can hang out in here as long as you'd like—and feel free to finish up that phone call if you want to." He turned to face her, balancing a pair of boxers, jeans and a t-shirt on his hip. "I still need to change and dry my hair, anyway."

Carissa's grin faltered a little, knocked off balance by a strong wave of nostalgia. The sight of Taylor leaning against the doorframe was so familiar that it nearly stole her breath away. She'd been struck by a similar feeling of déjà vu at the bar earlier, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why despite having only just met Taylor, she felt as though she already knew him.

"Are you sure?" she asked, finding her voice again. "Because there's really no excuse for a total stranger like me to barge into your bedroom and act like I own the place."

"Positive. Last I checked, all hell had broken loose out there, so I don't blame you for wanting some peace and quiet." He flashed her one more calm, reassuring smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

"And hey, Carissa?" he called out a few seconds later.

Her heart skipped a beat at the fact that he remembered her name—that he'd cared enough to commit it to memory. He popped his head out of the bathroom, his gaze finding hers once more. She noticed then that his eyes were lined with soft wrinkles. They moved when he smiled, fanning out and then collapsing like wings of a bird in flight.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you're a stranger," he said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"What are you doing here?

Carissa's eyes fluttered open at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Cody?" she asked, struggling to sit up.

"What are you doing in my room?" he repeated angrily.

She blinked and looked around. Yes, maybe it technically was his room, but Carissa had grown to call it theirs. She spent more nights there than she did in her own bed. He'd had no problem with that before; in fact, he seemed to enjoy living with her. So what was the issue? Why was he acting like this—like she was an intruder of some sort?

"I don't understand," she said quietly.

"I'm not asking you to understand. I'm asking you to leave. Now."

When he advanced toward her, Carissa tensed up and recoiled, the back of her head colliding with the wall in the process. The last thing she remembered was feeling utterly defenseless against the anger pouring from her boyfriend's eyes as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly from the bed.

She sat up with a start, wincing at the pain that threatened to split her skull in two, and then glanced down to find a wad of bright blue fabric clutched in a tightly-clenched fist.

"Where the hell am I?" she mumbled to herself.

As she surveyed her surroundings, the events of the night returned to her in pieces. When she realized that she wasn't in Cody's bedroom at all, she was hit with a bittersweet mixture of sorrow and relief. The nightmares had started not long after their breakup and were still a disturbingly frequent occurrence; she was beginning to think that they'd haunt her for the rest of time. Despite the fact that her ex-boyfriend had never been abusive toward her in any way, the dreams were often violent, leaving her feeling bruised and beaten when she awoke.

Carissa gave up trying to massage the pain out of her aching temples and reached for her half-empty cup of beer. She sucked in a deep breath before draining its lukewarm contents and letting her head fall back against the pillow.

Will I ever get over Cody? she asked herself, searching the ceiling for an answer that she knew she wouldn't find.

It seemed that no matter how many new places she visited or how many new people she encountered, she'd never be able to truly escape him.


<< Chapter Six (coming soon!) >>