I don't wanna change
I wanna stay right where I lay
Eyes closed head down on the pillow
I better change before it's too late
I'm guessing this is growing up

                                                                             Forever The Sickest Kids

My head lolled to the side of the shotgun seat. When I opened my eyes, the girl who looked a lot like Sarah was cursing with her palm on her forehead. Well, not really cursing. She was just muttering ‘crap’ or ‘darn’—couldn’t really tell with the constant buzzing in my ears—or some goody-two-shoes’ attempt to imitate the complicated art of cursing.

Wimpy but cute.

She rolled down the window and stuck her head out, shouting, “So sorry!” to the vehicle in front of us.

I was so absorbed in watching her that I just noticed that we almost hit the back of a service van we were following. Apparently, she was a crappier driver than moi. She was also talking in the phone while driving, which is by the way, illegal. And could kill us both. Except that I couldn’t care less.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she hissed to the phone as her other hand fumbled inside her sling bag for something. “You’re a reporter, Gina! Journalist! Press! Media! How could you not know these things?”

As the traffic light turned red, she let out a soft grunt, muttering, “Where’s that stupid headset!” before tossing her bag to the backseat. She manoeuvred the wheel, setting the phone to speaker mode as she took the next turn.

“Okay, okay. Relax.” The female voice from the speakers who could only be Gina said. “I’m goin’ to make some calls and let’s see what I can get, okay hon?”

“Thanks,” the girl replied, not the least bit relieved. “I really appreciate it. ASAP please.”

“Give me a minute. This ain’t fast food, ya’ know.” The sound of fingers tapping on a PC keyboard filled the next half of the minute. “Why don’t you just take him to your apartment, for the time being?”

“No. Freaking. Way.” The girl shook her head, looking a bit uneasy.

“Why? You scared?”

“Me?” she forced a fake chuckle. “Why would I be? I mean… there’s no reason to—“

“Babycake, you owe the guy. Payback’s a bi—“

“I know. I’m stupid and I know I have to face the consequences sooner or later,” she winced a bit, chewing her lower lip guiltily. “Now can we get back on that hotel address?”

Gina from the other line sighed. “Double Tree, Washington Street. Be careful with your drivin’.”

“I know. Thanks a lot, Gina. I owe you one.” Then she hung up, her forehead all scrunched up. She let out a deep breath and looked at me. It must’ve looked like I was still asleep because she didn’t seem to notice that I was looking at her. “Now, let’s get you home.”

My eyelids just wanted to drop but I struggled to stay awake and watch as the headlights played on her face. Doing that, I dozed off and dreamt of Sarah during her parents’ wedding.

I could still pretend that she was still alive. Freddy could still send me those letters. And I could keep believing that she was still in Hopkinton. A lie was easier to accept than the truth.

I alternated in between snoozing and waking during the whole drive. I was stumped. After tonight, what next? Should I keep getting drunk like this for the rest of my life? How could I move on now?

Suddenly, I jolted back and forth the car seat as we slowed down in front of Double Tree. A valet came running to us as the girl called for some help. Before I knew it, I was already being hauled in the hotel lobby by two big guys. I felt another wave in my stomach but I breathed deeply to keep from barfing on my midnight blue Vans sneakers. It’d be a shame to ruin them. They were my favorite pair since Sarah seemed to like them very much.

The girl talked with the lady in the front desk for a while before she was given the key card to my suite. Unwillingly, she followed the guys dragging me to the top floor. I heard her sigh as the door opened, as the guys lugged me to the king-sized bed, as she gave them a tip and then again as I heard the door close.

I mustered a weak snigger. “Do I really look that pathetic?” I said, not bothering to open my eyes.

Staying conscious was becoming harder and harder by the minute. The ceiling looked like it was warping and spinning over me.

Again with the sighing. “Why do you ask?” she replied and I felt the corner of the bed move with her weight.

“Because…” Even sorting out my thoughts seemed to be a big challenge now. “You’re forced to be here when you clearly didn’t want to.”

She stayed quiet for a while then I felt her stand up. Just when I thought she was leaving, I felt her hands untie the laces of my sneakers. Silently, she removed both of them. Next thing I knew, she was already putting the sheets over me.

“I’m here because I want to,” she whispered as she leaned closer to tuck me in. “Get some rest. Do you want me to turn off the lights when I leave?”

Before she could stand up, my hand searched for hers and when I found it, I tightened my fingers around her wrist.

“Stay,” I told her, almost commanding.

It was crazy and maybe I was really losing it. I knew it wasn’t Sarah. But I just couldn’t care anymore. If it was just for one night, I wanted to believe it was her.

“Please stay with me,” I repeated when she didn’t move.

Finally, she sat beside me without saying anything. I might get harassment charges pressed on me tomorrow but that didn’t matter at the moment.

All I wanted was to fall asleep and forget about everything. When I did, I dreamt of Sarah again, sitting beside me, smiling as she tweaked the hair from my eyes as I was sleeping. I dreamt of her looking fondly at me, tracing the features of my face with her gentle fingers. I dreamt of her kissing me real gently so she won’t wake me up. Once I opened my eyes, it felt real—her breath against my face, the scent of her hair, the light in her blue-gray eyes as she gazed back into mine.

I smiled at her. She smiled back and placed her hand on my cheek.

“Sleep now, Leon,” she said and I closed my eyes, feeling childish but contented for the first time in many years.

It seemed like a really good dream. I couldn’t really tell my imagination from what really happened but after that, I slept like I never slept in a long time. I might’ve heard someone rummaging over my stuff but I was too tired (lazy) to bother getting up.

I woke up with a massive headache. There must be two invisible cavemen beating my head with their clubs right now. Squinting, I let my eyes adjust to the light passing through the gaps between the curtains.

My hand automatically searched the other side of the bed. It was empty. I scooted up looking around. The girl was gone. I didn’t even get her name.

She just left like that. Without a word. And it looked like she left in a hurry too. My room looked like it’d been overturned. My pants were on the sofa. Her gray cardigan was on the floor. She must’ve forgotten that on her way out.

Wait. My pants. I couldn’t even remember taking them off. Or my other clothes.

I was about to jump out of bed when I realized that under the blanket, I was in my birthday suit. Literally. How it happened? No idea.

I took two sharp lungfuls of breath. “Think, Leon. Relax. This isn’t the first time that you woke up like this. Everything is…”—I looked around again, standing up to hurry back into my pants—“…under control.”

But that was before I met Sarah. I changed. All those hang-over days were behind me now.

Quick as a breeze, I shrugged my shirt on while I looked for my shoes. I was buttoning my shirt as I ran like an idiot around the suite looking for my shoes. So far, no trace of them. I looked under the furniture, inside the closet and under my bed. Nothing.

“Sh—“ I cursed, kicking the sofa.

I won’t recommend it, especially if you’re not wearing any footwear. My big toe must be broken and I yelled and cursed again until the pain didn’t make me see black patches out of nowhere anymore.

That girl! I didn’t even know her name. And she was a shoe-napper! What could she be possibly doing with my sneakers? Maybe she was one of those sick whackos who had fetish for shoes.

Ugh, crud! Whatever happened last night, I didn’t want to remember anymore. If it wasn’t all a dream, then I’d kissed—and I was pretty sure that it wasn’t just kissing—a psycho girl.

I hurried to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. Leaning on the sink, I stared at myself from the mirror.

What the hell happened?

Closing my eyes, I tried to rack my brains for some answer. I remembered myself pinning her down the bed. Oh, God. She looked so much like Sarah, I must be going nuts. She looked nervous, almost scared, but when I looked at her and she looked back at me, I knew then that we had this kind of connection that I couldn’t explain. I remembered her gentle hand on my face. I remembered how much I wanted her as I unbuttoned her dress.

I stepped back from the sink and slumped on the edge of the tub.

What is wrong with me?

A quick shower was what I needed to clear my head. Once I got out of the bathroom, I was feeling all okay again. It was just one night. No big deal. Everybody does it.

As I was picking up my jacket from the floor, I noticed something on the side table. It looked like some sort of thick folder, more like an album. Every page had a picture of different themes.

The first ones were flowers—pink stargazer lilies, blue hydrangeas, roses. The next were children running around in a playground. Then, there was this girl where you could only see her back while her hair and dress were being blown by the wind as she was staring at a beach sunset. The next one was the silhouette of a couple sitting under a tree. Following were pictures of models for a few brands.

It was a portfolio, actually, showcasing the best works of a photographer, like a resume so someone would hire them.

What caught my attention the most was the picture of a dry-pressed blue flower in between the pages of an open book. It reminded me of something I’d almost forgotten—that one winter morning I saw a girl who picked up a flower from the sidewalk crack before placing it inside one of her many books. That was the one day when my life started to change.

I had to know who this girl was.

With the portfolio in my hand, I opened my luggage to see if I had any shoes left with me. The room was just about turned into a jungle of clothes before I realized there was nothing I could use. I was so used to taking only my lucky shoes with me during concerts and whatnots that I overlooked the possibility of needing a backup.

I was getting up when a couple of photos fell from the portfolio’s back pocket along with a business card. Kneeling down, I picked them up, looking at each one as I did. The first one was a dark-haired kid about four or five playing with an overweight beagle. And the second was the picture of a boy, walking away.

The shot was taken from the guy’s back but I knew who it was. I knew exactly when it was taken because that boy in the picture was me. That was me as I was leaving after I said my goodbyes. I was even wearing my favorite sneakers in the picture. The ones she stole.

It took me a while to register it all. Was it really her?

Hurriedly, I look through my pockets for my cell phone. As soon as I found it, I dialled Freddy’s number. It was ringing but he wasn’t picking up. I tried their home number but all I got was Emma’s recorded message.

Stupidly, I stared at the business card in my hand. Chris Meneses’ name was on it. I remembered him telling me last night that he was training a girl from around here. Could it be…

Without thinking twice, I dialled the number on the card. His phone didn’t even have the chance to ring before Chris answered.

“Leon! My man! What up? I was waiting for you,” he said in a too happy tone.

“Chris, I just want to ask you something,” I said, my patience disappearing fast.

“Yeah, anything. Are you coming? ‘Cause I had a tent put up for you here—“

“Chris. Do you have a trainee whose name is Sarah Byrnes? And is she with you right now?”

He didn’t answer right away but I could hear him talking to someone. “Oh,” Chris said to whoever it was he was talking to. “So Jo’s real name is Sarah?”

“Yes. Jo Littman is just her pseudonym.”

 “Weird,” Chris commented. “Where’s she?”

“She’s setting up for the photo shoot, sir.”

“Oh good,” Chris said before talking to me again. “Yes, Leon. There’s a girl named Sarah Byrnes in here. Are you coming? Leon? Leon?”

I hung up and stared at the wall for half a minute or so. I couldn’t quite make out what was happening but I’d find out for sure.

“Hell yeah, Chris,” I muttered to myself. “I’m coming.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah... Let's see if the ending is good enough :) Can't say how many chapters more left though. Enjoy!