After the Party

Today's story was inspired by none other than a Taylor Swift song...

I could hear you in the other room, picking up the wrapping paper and the plates from the night before. I should have come out sooner to help you, but for some reason I didn’t. Instead I lingered by the doorway, listening to the steady sound of your footsteps, and the constant beeping of the alarms on my phone I was too lazy to turn off.

I wanted to hunt down my purse on the other end of the hallway and find my concealer to hide the bags under my eyes before you saw me. But as soon as I opened the door there you were, taking in the sight of me in my old Tennessee t-shirt and the shorts I never wear outside the apartment.

You cleared your throat and looked embarrassed, like you thought you had surprised me. You didn’t realize I already knew it was you out there. Who else would have stayed to clean up the mess from last night, even when they barely had a part in it?

“Hi,” I breathed.

And then that crooked smile was on your face, like you couldn’t seem to help it.

“Hi,” you whispered back, before you turned around and left me.

I found my purse on the floor next to Sarah’s bedroom door. But the door to the bathroom was locked, and I could hear the faucet running on the other side, Sarah’s soft humming wavering as she got ready for work.

That had been part of the madness in agreeing to let her throw a Christmas party here when she had to work early the next morning. But she’d promised me that it would be worth it, that she’d help me clean up, that she’d get her brother to come if she couldn’t. She didn’t realize that having you here - only yards away from my bedroom, was making my palms sweat and my heart hammer. Even more than it did last night, when the crowd and the music and the dancing were loud enough to drown it.

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