Connections (F1 story)

Chapter Fifty Five: Late Night

I did say to hold on in there;) Here goes...

I stirred to a voice...a very familiar voice, repeating my name. Christ! I was awake, yet still dreaming...nope. Just how long had I been asleep for?

"What the hell are you doing there?" he spoke softly. I hadn't seen him in over two weeks. That is the longest we had ever gone.

Maybe it was just my jet lag kicking in...surely, it wasn't actually him standing in front of me at that very moment? Surely, he wasn't witnessing me with my head still face down on the couch...

"Sleeping, my room got cancelled." I replied with a face full of pillow as I felt his hand reach out to help me up. His touch was warm; it woke me up ever so slightly.

"Right, did it?" And he smiled, he actually smiled as I caught a glimpse of his face. Hold up...

"What the fuck have you done to yourself?" I blurted out as my eyes were met with...well I didn't know what it was. If it was a new fashion craze then I really did need to catch up with the times.

"Well, it's something new." He then resorted to physically helping me up. He grabbed my other hand and hauled me from the settee. I could sense the receptionists staring at me.

I couldn't help but laugh out loud as I got a proper look at his facial hair. It was unique to say the least. God knows what was going through his head when I hadn't a clue what was going through mine.

"I know you're trying to put me off but..." I stuttered as a head rush engulfed me.

He replied with a slight squeeze of my hand- either that, or it was to stop me from toppling over.

"Have you had your hair cut?" He studied my face, which no doubt my makeup was halfway down. Not the best impression I was planning to make.

"Oh, yeah." I ran my fingers through the length of my hair which was considerably shorter, and no doubt still a static mess. "What's the time?"

"I make it almost ten." Daniel stopped talking as Paul walked into the lobby. Where was Sid? "How tired are you?"

"Shit tired. I haven't slept in ages." Even thinking about it made me yawn.

"Shall we go upstairs?" the Australian's voice was quieter and I could sense that he was almost shy, nervous.

We.

"When I wake up again, your beard will all be a dream." I replied, gripping onto his arm for dear life. The entire space was spinning, Paul seemed to be running circles around me. Actually, he was running.

"We'll have a two hour kip and then we'll talk stuff through? I uh- yeah..." He looked at the floor before thanking the receptionists.

"I have no idea where my case is." I added a yawn to the end of my sentence. I was pretty sure that I was still dreaming.

"Worry about that later, it should be upstairs already?"

"Why upstairs my case?"

"Jesus Christ, you didn't take Valium on the plane or anything?" He shot me a sidewards glance before noticing the dark circles ringing my eyes. Delirious was not the right lexis to use.

"Nope."

I stumbled up to the lift doors- my legs could not manage the dozens of stairs; they felt like jelly. And I still felt completely out of it- probably because his skin was still touching mine. Something that I hadn't dare let myself think about or tangent off to with the fear of making the pain worse. A lot worse.