Acumen: Riddling Life

(46)Happiness

The creaking of the mattress pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at it. Adrien is sitting, his shoulders hunched as he gazes at the wall in a blank stare.

In a feather-light touch, I press my fingertips on my lips. The tingling sensation, evidence of the kiss happening, remains.

I rush to the bathroom, close the door, and lean to it for a moment to catch my breath.

I adjust the faucet to its coldest temperature and splash the icy liquid to my face multiple times to clear my foggy head.

Almost freezing, I shut the running water, brace my hands on the sink. Water drips from my chin and a few strands of my wet hair. I meet my eyes in the mirror, and stare at my reflection for long moments, until I feel ready to deal with the aftermath and search for a solution.

I place a hand on my hip while pinching my bottom lip with my thumbnail and index fingernail. I set on pacing the small area, urging myself to think.

To analyze the situation, the starting point is, Adrien is drunk out of his mind. He can't even stand straight or form a proper sentence. The chances of his memory brain cells working and saving this incident are really slim. In an optimistic view, it's next to impossible.

That's a good start. I note while careful not to slip.

If he's that intoxicated, wouldn't that mean he can't think properly either? What if, on a wilder scale, he mistook me with Sophia? It sounds absurd, but it could be true. In fact, he mentioned her name a few times... maybe he wanted to meet her... they had a fight, and he planned to go to her and fix their problems. That makes sense, a lot. But it's impossible to mistake me with Sophia, even after downing ten bottles of vodka and being on the verge of alcohol poisoning. The girl is a beauty goddess.

I don't know how a drunk person's brain functions, neither do I have personal experience. The best I can hope for is, Adrien was too drunk, mistook my room with Sophia's, and or somehow halfway through, assumed I'm her which resulted in the kiss. And he probably won't recall it ever happening.

So if he isn't going to remember, it solves the problem. I'll act like it never happened and if I continue to force it to the back of my mind, I might forget it too.

Yes, an excellent idea in this case. Pretend it away.

I sit on the edge of the bathtub. Wrapping an arm around myself and resting an elbow on top of my knee as I push my bottom lip between my teeth, chewing it.

Well, at least that's settled. I can't allow myself to acknowledge the alternative, because I don't have any solutions for that case. If he remembers, everything will get awkward. I hope he won't.

On to the second problem, why the hell was I about to kiss him back!

I drive my hand through my hair, tugging on the ends of it, before resting both of my elbows on my knees. And pressing the heels of my palms to my eyes.

I hated kissing! Out of the eight previous times, I only returned five of it and the other three the guys had to stop because I didn't return it. It always disgusted me. Excluding four times with the same guy, that case was different. But why didn't this disgust me like the other ones?

Fuck. I feel like shit for even considering kissing him back.

We've just recently reached the friend level. Why did this have to happen!

Oh no, if Sophia finds out, I might as well pack my stuff and book a flight to New York right now. She'll be irked, and that's the last thing I need.