Hangover

~Joan~
“Nice to see you’re here,” I slurred as I finished the last of my drink. Denzel scowled, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me.
His eyes darted around, landing on the empty vodka bottles scattered across the table before meeting my gaze again.
“Are you drunk?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. I waved him off lazily.
“A little bit. But I’m still sober,” I muttered, signaling the waiter. I’d stumbled into this bar and just kept ordering drinks.
Then I called Denzel to come over. I never told him where I was, but he showed up anyway… he works with the boss after all.
My chest tightened painfully as Aaron crossed my mind.
“You can’t be drunk and sober at the same time. How many bottles have you had?” His voice was calm and soothing, but it wasn’t the voice I wanted to hear right now.
I was going crazy.
Denzel waved the waiter off, placing both hands flat on the table.
“I’ll take you home now. Where do you live?” he asked gently. I scoffed, my irritation bubbling up.
“I didn’t call you all the way here just to take me home. That’s ridiculous,” I snapped, tilting my head to the side.
“How did you even know where I was? I don’t remember giving you an address.”
He scratched the back of his head, looking away as he mumbled something under his breath.
I sighed, dropping my gaze to the table.
We sat in silence for a few seconds before Denzel finally spoke.
“Is this about Aaron?” he asked softly. I slowly lifted my eyes to meet his, then looked back down at my hands.
“Yeah, maybe. I just feel so lost right now,” my voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He leaned forward, his eyes searching my face like he was trying to read between the lines.
“I love him,” my voice broke, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears burning at the edges. I’d cried enough for one night.
“I love him so much it hurts, but I guess he’s not the one for me after all. He deserves better than what I can give.” The tears I’d been fighting slipped out, and I opened my eyes to find Denzel still watching me.
“Gosh, I’m crying again,” I muttered, dabbing at my tears. He gave a small, sympathetic smile and motioned to the waiter.
“Two bottles of vodka and an extra glass,” he said, and the waiter nodded before heading off.
“What? You’re going to drink too? How will you take me home?” I huffed, my voice tainted with disbelief.
“I’m not driving. There’s no harm in drinking,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair.
A small smile crept onto my face despite myself as the waiter returned with the bottles. Denzel opened one and poured me a glass, then did the same for himself.
“You’re what he needs,” Denzel mumbled, raising his glass to his lips.
I stared at him, my heart thudding for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.
He chuckled dryly. “Aaron doesn’t like women who chase after his money or status. Most of them just try to please him, to stay in his good graces and spend his money. But it’s different with you.”
I huffed, snatching the bottle from the table and drinking straight from it.
Denzel scrunched up his nose slightly.
“And who says I’m not after his money?” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended.
He chuckled again. “His money might be a bonus, sure. But I’ve seen you both at work. You did the exact opposite of what he asked-getting my contact and flirting with me right in front of him.”
Heat crept up my neck. He had no idea what Aaron and I had done right before he walked in that day.
I took another long drink, trying to drown the memory.
“He was easier to be around when you two were… together,” Denzel trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re perfect for him.”
My lower lip trembled slightly, and I bit down on it to stop it.
“Have you ever been in love, Brown Eyes?” I asked suddenly. He leaned back, clearly caught off guard.
“Well, if what I felt in high school counts, then yeah,” he muttered.
I laughed softly, shaking my head. Interesting.
“I’m a writer, you know. I create perfect romances on paper, but I hadn’t lived one until… Aaron.” My voice dropped to a whisper as I reached for my drink again, but Denzel gently stopped me.
“Do you have to drink to talk about him?” he asked quietly.
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “It’s hard, you know? His sister hates me. He left me. I’m just trying to pick up the pieces of my life.”
Denzel shut his eyes for a moment, letting out an exasperated sigh as he released the bottle.
“He’s been trying to get back into your good books. Why won’t you let him?”
“I’m scared, okay?” The words spilled out before I could stop them. “I’m scared that if we get back together, he’ll leave me again. And I’d rather deal with the pain now than feel shattered all over again later.”
I took another drink, the liquid burning my throat.
“I think he loves you too. Man’s been acting weird lately,” Denzel said, his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t place.
I glanced at him from under my lashes.
Before I could ask what he meant, he leaned forward.
“There’s something you should know, okay? It’s the reason he called things off in the first place.” His fingers brushed against my hand lightly.
“Just give him another chance. Hear him out,” he whispered before standing up, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape.
He looked down at me.
“Come on. Let’s get you home.”
I stared at the nearly full glass he’d left behind. He hadn’t even finished his drink.
Slowly, I stood up, swaying on my feet. I would’ve hit the floor if Denzel hadn’t caught me.
I glanced up at him, my heart pounding wildly.
“Stop looking at me like that. Aaron will kill me,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.
I looked away, feeling more confused than ever.
“What is it that Aaron wanted to tell me?” I asked as Denzel helped me to the counter, paid the bill, and guided me outside.
The city was quieter than I expected, and I realized how late it must’ve gotten. I hadn’t even been keeping track of time.
“I’m not the one to tell you that,” Denzel said softly, smiling down at me as he waved for a cab.
I mulled over his words during the ride home, my thoughts tangled and messy as my eyelids grew heavier with each passing second. I wanted to beg him to tell me everything, but exhaustion tugged at me.
When we arrived at my street, Denzel glanced at me before helping me out of the cab. He paid the driver, mumbling something I didn’t catch.
I pointed out my apartment, and he led me to the door.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice fragile.
He gave a curt nod, stepping back.
“Sleep tight. You’re going to have a killer hangover tomorrow, but I think you’ll manage.” He raised an eyebrow, and I managed a weak smile.
I fumbled with my key, finally unlocking the door. Just as I was about to step inside, Denzel’s voice stopped me.
“Hey… take your time, okay? If he’s meant for you, he’ll wait.”
With that, he gave me a small nod and disappeared into the night.
I stumbled into my apartment, locked the door, and collapsed onto the floor.
I hiccupped, staring at the ceiling, my heart aching.
What was it that Aaron wanted to tell me?