"OH, HI VIKA."

I pause, needing a moment to drink in the scene that's in front of me. Her navy-blue cocktail dress is pooling around her thighs, back pressed against the stall's metal wall, head lolling onto her shoulder. Barely processing my presence is her watery blue-green eyes, an echo of Mark's. I don't need to take a glance inside the rim of the porcelain throne to know why she's found solace in the bathroom.

I never figured I'd be the one on the other side.

"Hey, Cecilia. What's up? How you feeling, girl?" I ask, baring my teeth in more of a grimace than a smile.

Her brows knit with a quiet intensity, a strand of dark hair falling between her eyes. Her lips part to answer, and it seems we both realize at the same time that something a little more than words is going to spill out as she instantly swerves her head in the toilet's direction.

I wince as she collapses into a fit of coughs and drops to a crouch. The sound of splashing water makes my nose crinkle. Seeing her hair dangerously close to the seat of the toilet, I sweep it away from her face, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"You still have that hair tie?" I ask with a sympathetic frown.

She nods, but doesn't say anything, only reaching behind to give me access to the black band clinging to her wrist. I gently tug it off and pull her hair back into a looser ponytail than she'd had this morning. I think I hear a mumble of thanks, but then she's disintegrating into a round of dry heaves that have empathy tickling in the back of my throat.

"Just get it out, seriously. You'll feel so much better when you get it all out," I say, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back, surprising myself with the tender notes in my voice.

She nods again and is all too-quick to take my advice. I draw a deep breath and continue running my fingers along her spine, reaching to tug her dress down a bit, not that it seems like anyone else will join us. Still, as much as I'd pictured her face getting run over by an 18-wheeler many a time, the pathetic little garbles she's making has me wanting to make this as painless as possible.

Hopefully, I can find a permanent mailing address for them to send my Nobel Peace Prize sometime soon.

"I'm not- this is so not like me," Cecilia says once she's finally caught her breath again. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

I throw up a hand to cut her off. "Oh my god- hey, stop, listen to me. Stop that, you're fine. I am the last person you need to be explaining yourself to. As least you got it into the toilet- I have done so much worse."

She lifts her chin, palm slapped over her forehead and a frown marked on her face, apparently not comforted by my lack of human decency. "This is so not like me."

I raise my brows, unable to tell who she's trying to convince more.

"Trust me when I say this is the most I've liked you since I met you. And I truly mean that."

Her brows pinch in confusion, and I snort, trying and failing to restrain my grin. There's mascara smudged under her eyes and a washed-out quality to her face that makes it look like I'm staring into a mirror of my twenty-two-year-old self, or really, my self probably six months ago. It looks as if she's about to argue, but a precarious burp bubbles up her throat and she takes a pause.

"Listen, take your time. Nat's pretty preoccupied upstairs, and the club doesn't close for another hour or so. It doesn't look like anyone's coming down here, either," I reassure her, giving her a small pat on the arm.

"Does that mean you like me?" Cecilia asks, finally, and there's a weak smile on her face.

I roll my eyes. "I know you're drunk, but I don't think you're delusional."

"You like me. You're- you're starting to like me. I feel it."

She meets my gaze in a challenge, small burps of pure tequila breaking through her grin. I heave a sigh.

"I still do not care about what colour the napkins are or how old the cheese is, for any occasion ever, but seeing that you're an actual human being and not a robot is making me warm up to you. Slightly. Stop smiling. I'm taking it back."

"You like me!" she beams, and she throws her arms out, to which I immediately back away. "C'mon," she interrupts herself with a hiccup, "Let's hug this out!"

I gesture to the toilet between us with a frown. "Cute sentiment, let's not forget why we're here though."

She pauses, then drops her arms. "That's fair," she admits, nodding her head, but the grin is still lingering on her face. "Glad we did this though."

"We should probably focus more on getting out of here alive before we pat ourselves on the back."

"So, this was fun?" she asks, ignoring me, head falling back to press against the metal stall. "It was fun, wasn't it? I hope so, at least. I've been looking forward to this for months."

There's a bite back that almost instinctively rolls off my tongue, but I stop myself when I see her. There's something genuine in her eyes that I can't find it in me to squander. "It was fun. This is fun. Maybe a little too much fun for you, though." I arch a brow. "You've been downing shots like a champion tonight."

Her eyes slowly fall to a close, on purpose or unconsciously I'm not sure, and she grins. "Fun. It's been fun."

Silence falls over us, and I tug down her dress a little more again, the unconscious action I don't realize until I've already done it. Her chest is rising and falling with her small breaths, which reassures me she's still alive, thankfully, despite her otherwise lack of movement. When a few more moments pass of nothing, though, my brows knit.

"Hey!" I snap my fingers in front of her face, to which she barely acknowledges with only a flutter of her lashes. "No sleeping! Stop! We're staying awake here!"

She blindly swats my hands away, groaning, eyes still defiantly shut.

"Fine," I surrender with a tired sigh, lifting to my feet. "I'll be back in two seconds, don't go anywhere."

She mumbles something incoherent in acknowledgement as I rip off a chunk of toilet paper and push open the door, but it's not worth even trying to decipher. When I'm running cold water over the paper, I think I hear some more unintelligible grumbles, but figure she's still trying to convince me the severe importance of sending out invitation cards in the mail.

"Cecilia, seriously, I don't think anyone but you cares that much about making scrapbook memories," I say, my sentence falling short as I push open the door to find that she is not as I'd left her.

She looks up through half-lidded eyes, still glazed over with the hazy film of alcohol, but her mouth keeps moving. "Yeah, come get me." She's pressing her phone to her ear. "Now. Thanks. Yes."

I frown. "Who's that?"

She doesn't immediately answer me. I assume the conversation is over as her phone slips from her grasp, clanging against the tile floor, and she meets my eye. "They're coming."

"Well, that's not ominous at all," I murmur, brows raised as I drop to a crouch. "And who would they be?"

She accepts my wet toilet paper offer and sets it on her forehead, eyes falling closed again, a relieved sigh spilling from her lips. "This is nice. You're being so nice. I like this."

"Cecilia," I say, voice a little stronger. "Who was that? Help me, help you. Did you call the government to pick you up because you're glitching? Are these aliens coming to take you and Noel home? Give me something to work with."

"Listen, shh, it's gonna be okay. They said they're coming."

She's not lying, as that's exactly what 'they' end up doing. They are made up of Mark's bachelor party, including the man himself, Cecilia's husband, and Noel trailing along after them with the worst Best Man presence I've ever seen. I've dragged Cecilia up from the downstairs bathroom onto the street in one piece, mostly with some semblance of coherence, and am all too ready to pass her off to the broad-shouldered man she practically flings herself at.

"Remember, liquids, it's all about the liquids," I say, mostly to her husband who's gently maneuvering her with a Herculean amount of patience into the taxicab. He shoots me an understanding smile and I'm comforted I'm at least leaving her in good hands. "Get lots of sleep."

Cecilia sticks her head out of the cab and points a finger at me. "The fish! Don't forget the fish!"

"Yes, yes, the fish. Don't worry Cecilia, the fish will be okay," I reassure her like a child, not even trying to follow her deranged thought process at this point, and wave her goodbye. "Sleep tight."

The touch of relaxation that spreads through my muscles is short-lived as I watch her taxi disappear down the road, only to be to cut short by a pair of arms locking around me. Hot breath fans across my neck.

"Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

I roll my eyes as Nat giggles in my ear, turning in her hold to be met with the heart-shaped face and round green eyes of my best friend, bathed in the glow of the streetlights. Only a few steps behind is Mark, with his tie loosened around his neck and a telltale flush of scotch on his face, throwing me a half-coherent wave.

"Do not get used this. You will be scraping my body off the pavement in no time once that ring is glued to your finger," I say, holding her at an arm's length and shooting her a pointed look.

She beams, laughing, and captures me into a tight hug. "Thank you."

When she pulls away, Nat can no longer resist Mark's gravitational pull, and surrenders back to his side. They're both grinning so hard I wonder if their faces might break, and another cab pulls up to the curb.

"Thanks mom!" Nat calls out before ducking into the backseat, flailing her arms wildly in goodbye.

I snort. "Get out of here before I throw up, seriously."

Mark gives me a drunken salute and also tucks himself into the cab, both of them driving into the distance. I'm left holding my arms on the sidewalk, the 2AM crowd thinning and a touch of fatigue pulling a yawn from my lips. There's still the haze of a buzz, but playing parent has fought back most of it. Still, when I wave my arms, trying to hail my own cab, it takes me a moment to register the tap on my shoulder.

"Surprised that you're still able to walk," comes the soft voice with an edge of condescension that I'm all too familiar with, right behind my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, were you named parent of the evening? No, because I'm the only one that earned it."

When I twirl around, it's the first time we've been toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye, since we'd been interrupted by the converging forces of Cleopatra and Cecilia who seemed hell-bent on keeping my chastity under lock. I can't help the hitch in my throat as my gaze drifts from the small smile on his face to the darkness of his eyes, realizing that both those forces have disappeared.

My pulse trips as he leans closer, our gazes fusing in the midnight air. His smile manifests into a smirk. We're dangerously close.

Only for him to completely slip by me.

I make a small noise of indignation as I pivot on my heel, watching as he ever-so nonchalantly climbs into the cab that I'd hailed and was too distracted to notice.

"Hey!" I protest. "Dude, that's my cab!"

The door's still open, and I watch as he shifts to the farther seat, a cool smile tugging on the corner his mouth. He gestures to the empty space. "You're welcome to join me."

We lock eyes.

As another breeze whistles passed, teeming with the low hum of the city. I pause. I can see an oncoming cab down the road, presenting itself as an option, but when I'm drawn back to those dark brown eyes, I'm already following in after him.

The tequila on my tongue is fueled by the nerves igniting inside of me, pressed next to him in the backseat, and I shift.

"I'm not paying," I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest and staring aggressively out the window. "This is going on your tab."

"It didn't even cross my mind," he says, and the genuine notes in his voice threaten to disarm me completely. "Davenport and Bay, thanks."

This is directed to the driver who gives a nod of confirmation before pulling back into oncoming traffic. My brows knit.

"That's not Mark's," I say, unsure of where I'm going with it.

"It's my place, but we can make a detour, if you want. I can drop you off, it's on my tab after all."

I turn my head, caught off guard to find that he's already looking to me. My fingers grip tighter to my phone, settled in my sweaty palm. Despite all the buildup to this moment, all the pent-up frustrations and clandestine glances, the realization is crashing into me all at once. I swallow.

"We wouldn't want to waste this nice man's time," I say, nodding to the driver. Noel grins.

The rest of the trip to Noel's place is filled with small talk about the night, slightly slurred words that have no consequence to the warmth of his body next to mine, the promise of heat in the night to come. In the lulls of conversation, my gaze falls out the window and my imagination spins fervently at the thought of Noel's home.

When the cab pulls to a stop, and Noel hands over a few bills, I'm both shocked and not at all to step out in front of the looming, thirty storey building that is a Carlton hotel. It's all gleaming glass and stainless steel, overshadowing the both of us as we walk towards the entrance. Inside is no touch less luxurious, with a glittering chandelier imposing in the middle of the room, bathing the tan and sandalwood interior with its soft light. I feel more like an intruder than a guest as I follow quickly after Noel, who nods at the receptionist as if it's nothing.

We're the only ones in the lobby, and I'm hovering a little more close than comfort when we find the elevator doors.

"Hey," I murmur softly, bumping his shoulder with mine. "Don't get any weird ideas. If you think you're going to get me into this elevator and suddenly, I won't be able to control myself or something, you're wrong."

The doors resound with a ding and slowly pull open. Noel looks down to me, the corner of his mouth turned up. "I would never assume such things." He gestures to the space. "Ladies first."

I fix him with a sharp look and step inside, making a pointed effort to tuck myself into the corner. He follows, still wearing that infuriating smile, and the doors slowly pull closed.

When the elevator dings open, my dress is pulled up to my belly button.

"Noel, Noel, door," I gasp, pushing him off me and tugging my dress down, thankful that the hallway is similarly deserted as the lobby after two in the morning. "The door's open."

He peels himself off me with a small "fuck" that resounds all the way into my bones. As my body is lamenting the lack of physical contact, he slips his hand in mine and tugs me along in a way that's more personal that we've ever touched before. I blink and blindly follow.

We reach a door that Noel pauses at, and with a swipe of a card we're in. Noel's house is surprisingly exactly as I'd imagined, cold and clean to an almost clinical precision. He flips on a light, illuminating the rooms to his suite, and there's not one speck of dust out of place. Shoes lined properly in the closet, a potted plant tucked in the corner, the glass and stainless steel motif of the entire hotel echoed in all I can see.

The warmth of his palm is still nestled in mine as he tugs me into the bedroom.

I barely have time to process it before he's closing the door and pressing me up against it with his lips on mine, hands suddenly all over my skin all at once.

"Wait," I pause, pulling away, catching my breath. He suspends his assault on my neck, to both my pleasure and dismay. "I want to be on the same page here. No cat?"

When he lifts his chin and meets my gaze, those familiar pupils blown wide in a way that makes my pulse stutter, he nods. "No cat." A crooked grin stretched across his face.

"All right, awesome, no cat. Thank god, you've been such a tease," I beam, toying with the hair tickling the nape of his neck.

"Tease?" he murmurs, returning his lips to pepper gentle kisses down my jawline. "Have you seen the dress you're wearing today?"

I grin. "How kind of you to notice."

His fingers travel down to play with the edge of my black, tight-fitting dress, lifting the fabric up my thighs, belly button, and then finally over my head. I'm thankful that I had an inkling of one of us making a move tonight, and I'm wearing a matching pearlescent lace set that I spent way too much money on, but seems to be paying off in the best kind of way as he takes a step back.

I'm unsurprised as his eyes immediately gravitate towards my chest. His wandering gaze leaves a trail of fire in its wake, scorching into my skin in the most delightful kind of way. I'm half-mesmerized by the dip of his Adam's apple in his throat.

"Are you going to do something or just stare?"

When I arch a brow, Noel looks up, meeting my gaze. Unconsciously or not, his tongue runs along his top lip. I swallow, and he smiles, takes a step forward, just breaths between us.

"We've got all the time in the world, Vika."

And somehow, staring into those coffee dark eyes, I believe him.