OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

one-hundred-twenty-four.

              REAGAN STARED, DUMBFOUNDED, as Dave exited the hotel ballroom and turned the first corner of the hallway, disappearing. Hours seemed to pass before she remembered that she was still sitting on the table, the skirt of her dress hiked far up around her thighs.

She hopped off hurriedly, smoothing the dress out as well as her hair. As she patted down the curls that had fallen flat throughout the night, she counted each hammering beat of her heart, praying that there was no one else in the darkened ballroom with her.

She'd reached a crossroads, probably one of the most important ones of her life, and it was frightening to think that her mind had already been made up before she'd arrived there.

She was going to go to his hotel room.

Her body seemed to know it sooner than her brain did.  Dave wasn't even standing in front of her anymore, but she was drawn to him by magnetization, desperate to follow in his footsteps towards the decision that would reveal the final truth about their divorce.

There was little time she could spare to question why in the first place that they'd separated, especially when they were so apparently enamored with each other. It caused her pain to think that after everything they'd been though, it had been for nothing, but that wasn't her primary concern at the time.

The only thing Reagan wanted to focus on was getting up to his hotel room as quickly as possible.

She took a deep breath and walked out of the ballroom, following the same path that Dave had taken towards the elevators. As she pressed the button and anxiously took a step back, she thought of Chris awaiting her return to their room on the fourteenth floor.

Chris was sure to forgive Reagan for ditching her that night, but Reagan questioned how forgiving Chris would be once she found out where Reagan had actually been.

Chris was smart. She could draw her own conclusions about what had followed after she'd left Reagan downstairs.

The elevator arrived with a ding and its doors parted, welcoming Reagan in. She held her breath, shifting her weight on her feet as she was carried up through the hotel's many floors.

Gracie was quick to enter her mind. It couldn't have possibly been healthy for her and Dave to do what they were doing when there was Gracie to be worried about. She may not have known what her parents were up to, god forbid, but the moral question still lingered.

What was going to happen would leave them both facing a thousand open doors, all of them leading to one singular choice that would alter everything they'd strived to put behind them.

Reagan was backtracking on all the promises she had made to herself. She'd sworn to be thoroughly finished with Dave for the sake of her heart, but her heart was a traitor and she'd learned that night that while she had physically left him, her heart had not.

The only way the world seemed to spin correctly, rotating in the proper direction, was when she was with him.

She watched as the floor numbers steadily increased.

Eight.

Thirteen.

Seventeen.

Twenty-one.

Reagan's breath caught in her throat as the elevator dinged again.

Twenty-five.

She emerged slowly, scanning the hotel hallway. It was empty. Dave had already made it back to his room and was waiting for her.

Closing her eyes, she paused for a brief moment to regain her stability, reminding herself that she was still breathing. She could still feel her own pulse throbbing in her neck. What was happening was real, no longer a scenario plucked from the dreams that had kept her up at night for the past two years.