Page 2 of A Series of Rooms
He punched the button one last time, though that one was mostly an act of aggression rather than an earnest attempt.
“It’s broken.”
Liam swiveled around slowly, startled to hear the stranger speak. He was looking at Liam now, too—directly at him, instead of through their shared reflection. His dark eyes were still swollen despite his efforts.
“You know, I was just starting to gather that,” Liam said, feigning the casual coolness of someone who wasn’t standing half-naked in a bar bathroom.
If he was someone who enjoyed showing off his body at the best of times, maybe this wouldn’t be half as awful, but here he was. And now his options were down to hiding in this cesspool of a bathroom until his shirt dried on its own, or stepping out into the club as a one-man wet t-shirt contest. Nathan and Ben were sure to have a field day with that, whenever they deigned to find him again.
That was the deciding factor.
Liam squeezed his shirt one last time, then glanced at the stall with the missing door. He didn’t allow himself to linger on the thought of the bacteria that clung to every square inch of this room and draped his shirt over the wall.
For the second time tonight, Liam found himself on the verge of freefall. It was harder to ignore his exposed state when he had nothing to do with his hands, so he settled for crossing his arms and sinking into a crouch by the wall. If he was going to be here a while, he might as well get comfortable. He focused on breathing and wondered if it would be worth dipping into his savings to call a cab back to the hotel.To which Nathan and Ben had the only keys.
“Are you okay?” the stranger asked. Liam looked up to find him still standing there, witness to his downward spiral. There was a begrudging quality to the question, as if he’d had to force himself to ask. Liam tried for a smile, but it felt more pathetic to pretend.
“This wasn’t exactly the twenty-first birthday I’d imagined.”
Though, perhaps if he had been more realistic about his expectations, it should have been. Really, Liam was partially at fault for the position he found himself in now. He should have leaned into his own suspicions when his friends offered to take him to the city for his birthday. He should have realized that this weekend was always about finding an excuse to get drunk and run up a hotel bill on Nathan’s dad’s credit card, and not a sudden interest in celebrating Liam.
“Where are your friends?” The man turned to face him, leaning back against the sink.
And wasn’t that the million-dollar question? He opened his mouth to say something witty and biting, but what came out was, “I’m starting to think I don’t have any.” Then, trying to save face, “Do you want to talk about yours?”
“My what?”
“Your reason for hiding out in the bathroom?”
Liam regretted it immediately, when the small opening that had been pried open between them slammed shut. The man turned back to the sink.
“Sorry,” Liam said again. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
The other man was quiet for a few more seconds, then shook his head. “Just a bad night.”
Liam curled his fingers around his own upper arms, slippery with humid sweat. He didn’t know what kind of comfort he could give a complete stranger, nor how much weight it would hold coming from someone crouched on a bathroom floor, but at least he could offer solidarity.
“I’m Liam,” he said lamely.
The stranger looked back at him, and for a moment it looked like he might actually respond. But before he could speak, the bathroom door burst open, and the stranger flinched like he’d been struck.
Two drunk guys stumbled in, one of whom was still holding his open container of beer as he approached the urinal. Neither of them paid Liam or his quiet companion any attention, but it seemed to take a moment for the tensionto dissipate. He shook his head, then tossed a fleeting glance at Liam.
“I need to go,” he said.
Before Liam could so much as utter a goodbye, the door swung open, letting in a swell of bass and liquor, and he was gone.
“Cassidy, where have you been?” Ben was drunk and sweaty when he threw an arm over Liam’s shoulder, yanking him close. “Wait, why are you wet?”
Not so long ago, the casual act of affection might have done something for Liam. Now, he shoved out of Ben’s hold, knocking into a wall of dancing bodies behind him. He ignored the shouts of protest and held out his hand.
“I need the key card,” he said.
“What? Why?”
Nathan, pulling his face out of the crook of a girl’s neck, finally looked at him. “Why are you wet?” he asked. Liam felt like screaming.
“Give me the key,” he repeated.
