Ava ~
We clinked glasses and I took a long sip of my drink, the vodka burning down my throat in a way that felt almost grounding.
The stranger didn't push. He didn't ask why I was sitting alone in a hotel bar looking like someone had just ripped my life in half. He just sat there next to me, comfortable in the silence, like he had nowhere else to be.
I appreciated that more than I wanted to admit.
"So," I said after a while, because the silence was starting to feel heavy and I needed something to fill it. "Do you make a habit of buying drinks for sad women in hotel bars?"
"Only the interesting ones."
"What makes you think I'm interesting?"
He tilted his head, studying me. "You're sitting here alone, clearly going through something, and you haven't cried once. Most people would be a mess by now. You're not. You're just... still."
I didn't know what to say to that. He was right. I hadn't cried. I still couldn't. Everything inside me felt like it had been packed in ice, frozen solid so I wouldn't have to feel it.
"Maybe I'm in shock," I said.
"Maybe." He took a sip of his whiskey. "Or maybe you're tougher than you think."
I laughed, and it came out harsh and bitter. "I don't feel tough. I feel like an idiot."
"Why?"
The question was simple, but something about the way he asked it made me want to answer. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact that he was a complete stranger and I would never see him again. Maybe I just needed to say it out loud to someone who didn't know me, who wouldn't look at me with pity or try to tell me everything was going to be okay.
"I caught my fiancé cheating on me," I said. "About two hours ago. With my best friend. In my bed."
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "That's a lot to process."
"Yeah." I finished my drink and set the glass down harder than I meant to. "Four years. We were supposed to get married in three months. I had the dress and everything."
"Did you love him?"
The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to say yes, obviously, of course I loved him, that was why this hurt so much. But the word got stuck somewhere in my throat.
Did I love him? Or had I just loved the idea of him? The stability, the future, the story I could tell people about how we met and fell in love and built a life together?
"I thought I did," I said finally. "Now I don't know."
He nodded slowly, like that answer made sense to him. "For what it's worth, he's an idiot. Anyone who would cheat on you doesn't deserve you."
"You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
His eyes held mine, and something shifted in my chest. The ice that had been sitting there since I walked in on Daniel started to crack, just a little. Not enough to let the pain through, but enough to let something else in. Something warm and dangerous and completely inappropriate given the circumstances.
I looked away first.
"I should go," I said, even though I didn't move. "I have a room upstairs. I should probably just sleep this off and figure out my life in the morning."
"Probably," he agreed.
Neither of us moved.
The bartender came by and asked if we wanted another round. The stranger looked at me, waiting for my answer.
I should have said no. I should have closed my tab and gone upstairs and crawled into bed alone and cried until I couldn't breathe. That was what normal people did when their lives fell apart. They didn't sit in hotel bars flirting with strangers who looked at them like they were something worth looking at.
But I was so tired of being normal. Normal had gotten me a cheating fiancé and a best friend who had been stabbing me in the back for God knows how long. Normal had gotten me a life that was built on lies.
"One more," I said.
The stranger smiled.
We talked for another hour. He didn't tell me his name and I didn't ask again. He told me he was in town for business, that he lived in the city but sometimes stayed at hotels when he needed to get away from his apartment. I told him I worked in marketing, that I was starting a new job in a few days, that I had been so excited about my future until approximately three hours ago.
He listened. Really listened, not just waiting for his turn to talk. And when I made a dark joke about my situation, he laughed like he actually found it funny instead of giving me that pitying look I was already dreading from everyone else in my life.
By the time I finished my last drink, the bar had emptied out and the bartender was starting to wipe down the counter. The stranger paid for everything before I could even reach for my wallet.
"You didn't have to do that," I said.
"I wanted to."
We walked to the elevator together. I pressed the button for my floor and he didn't press anything else, which meant he was either staying on the same floor or he was coming with me.
My heart started beating faster.
The doors closed. We stood there in the small space, not touching, not talking. I could feel him next to me, the warmth of his body, the faint smell of his cologne. Something expensive and subtle that made me want to lean closer.
What are you doing? The voice in my head sounded a lot like my mother. You just caught your fiancé cheating and now you're about to hook up with a stranger? This is not how you deal with your problems, Ava.
But another voice, louder and angrier, pushed back. Why not? Daniel didn't think about me when he slept with Jessica. Why should I sit in my hotel room crying over him when I could be doing literally anything else?
The elevator dinged. The doors opened.
I stepped out into the hallway and turned to look at him. He was still standing in the elevator, one hand holding the door open, waiting.
"This is me," I said.
"Okay."
He didn't move. He was leaving it up to me. No pressure, no assumptions. Just waiting to see what I would do.
Three months ago, I would have said goodnight and walked away. Three hours ago, I would have never even talked to him in the first place.
But I wasn't that person anymore. That person had been engaged to a liar and best friends with a traitor. That person had been living in a fantasy world where everything was perfect and nothing could go wrong.
I didn't want to be her anymore.
"Do you want to come in?" I asked.
He stepped out of the elevator.
The walk to my room felt like it took forever. My hands were shaking slightly as I pulled the keycard from my pocket, and it took me two tries to get the door open. He didn't say anything, just waited patiently behind me until the light turned green and I pushed the door open.
The room was dark except for the city lights coming through the window. I didn't turn on the lamp. I didn't want to see too clearly, didn't want to think too hard about what I was doing.
He closed the door behind us.
For a moment, we just stood there in the darkness, facing each other. I could hear my own breathing, fast, and shallow. My whole body felt like it was buzzing, every nerve ending awake and waiting.
"We don't have to do anything," he said quietly. "If you changed your mind—"
I kissed him.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was desperate and hungry and nothing like the way I used to kiss Daniel. His hands came up to cup my face, then slid down to my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
His mouth tasted like whiskey. When he bit down gently on my lower lip, a sound came out of me that I didn't recognize.
We made it to the bed somehow, a tangle of hands and mouths and clothes being pulled off and dropped on the floor. I didn't think about Daniel. I didn't think about Jessica. I didn't think about anything except the way his hands felt on my skin and the way he said my name like it meant something.
For a few hours, I forgot everything.
Afterward, we lay there in the dark, not talking. His arm was draped across my waist, his breathing slow and steady. I stared at the ceiling and waited for the guilt to hit me, the shame, the regret.
It didn't come.
I felt... empty. Not in a bad way. Just quiet. Like someone had finally turned off all the noise in my head and given me a moment of peace.
His breathing changed, deeper and slower. He was falling asleep.
I waited until I was sure he was out, then carefully slid out from under his arm. I found my clothes in the darkness, pulling them on as quietly as I could. My phone was on the nightstand, the screen full of missed calls and texts from Daniel that I didn't read.
I grabbed my purse and my keycard and looked back at the bed one last time.
He was still asleep, one arm stretched across the space where I had been. The city lights through the window caught the angles of his face, and something in my chest tightened.
I didn't even know his name.
Maybe that was better. This way, it could just be what it was. One night. One moment of recklessness in the middle of my life falling apart. Something I would never have to explain or justify or think about ever again.
I slipped out the door and let it close softly behind me.
The hallway was empty. My heels clicked against the floor as I walked to the elevator, and I didn't look back.
By the time I got to the lobby, my phone had buzzed three more times. I turned it off and shoved it in my purse.
I needed to find somewhere to stay. I needed to figure out what I was going to do about the apartment, the wedding, the rest of my life.
But first, I needed coffee. And maybe a shower. And at least eight hours of sleep before I could even begin to process any of this.
The stranger upstairs would wake up alone and probably forget about me by tomorrow.
And I would never see him again.