Chapter 2: An Intoxicated Filter

*Natalia's POV*

I let my body wake up on its own instead of setting an alarm. Then again, that was never on my list of things on my mind last night. The first one was to psych myself up for today. The second was the shit Club Dude pulled, wasting both of our time.

Groaning, I stretched my arm out to grab my phone off the nightstand. I let my eyes adjust, 11:46 staring at me in bold numbers on the lock screen. Right under it was a text notification from Jules.

Using face recognition to unlock my phone, I clicked open my messages with her, revealing my drunken text I didn't remember sending. A few hours after mine delivered, Jules had sent one back, around the time she usually wakes up for her morning shifts: Quickie? A stalker? Hello?? You can't just tell me something like that and leave me wondering if you're safe! All I have to go from is your location, which shows you're home. So, thanks for the scare. Expect a call during my lunch break. I demand to hear all the deets for repayment!

I didn't bother sending a text back, only having fourteen minutes to jump in the shower before her call. The second before it hit noon, she'd already have her phone out on the ready. She loved drama. Well, she loved hearing it, not actively causing it.

The cold water hit my hand as I lifted it under the running shower head. Usually I would've waited until it was, at the very least, lukewarm. But too much time was passing by. Plus, I figured it might help my raging hangover.

"Shit! Cold, cold, cold!" I screeched aloud, teeth chattering while I lathered my body wash on my loofah to scrub away all of yesterday's sins. I had no promises of today's.

When I glanced down, my hangover wasn't the only thing that made me feel physically sick. I glided the loofah lightly and slowly down the few relatively giant scars on my left knee, not that it really mattered it was with great care or not. It was physically healed, for the most part with the surgeries all having been done a little under a year ago.

Just as I turned the handle all the way to the right, the water coming to a slow trickle before completely stopping, my phone vibrated on the bathroom counter. I hit the green button and put it on speaker, a few drops of clear liquid forming bubbles on the screen from dripping off my finger before I wiped it off with the corner of my towel I had wrapped around my body.

"Nat, what the hell?" Jules exclaimed, not even waiting for me to speak first, "I swear something always happens the second I'm not with you."

"I know, I know," I sighed, picking up my phone after nearly drying myself off to make my way to my closet, "He was cute, okay?"

With my hair still drenched, darkening the already brown color of it as it soaked up the water, a line of large continuous puddles tracked behind me onto the floor. I would've been the worst person to commit a crime, leaving a whole ass trail right to me. A partner-in-crime though? Hands down, I'd be perfect. If it entailed me taking the role of being the lookout, that is.

My hand swiped the clothes hanging down from one of the metal rods, each piece's fabric different with both the material and coloring. I made a mental note to organize my closet at some point, some clothes already making a mess near my feet by having fallen off its hanger.

A floral dress? No, too summery. A peach long-sleeved maxi dress? Nope, not that either. Too much flowy material. I wanted coverage, but not that much. A simple pair of high-waisted black shorts and a white shirt to loosely tuck in was sufficient enough.

"Was he actually?" she quipped, "Or was it all the alcohol tainting your vision? You probably were looking at him with an intoxicated filter."

I went to open my mouth to argue my case, then realized she might've been right, "I don't know. I just know he was cute in the moment. One cherry stem later, we were fucking in the back of the club. He kept on trying to ask for my name though? Like, literally in the middle of it."

"In the middle? That's just plain weird," she replied, "Wait, you didn't give him your name, right? Is this where he becomes your stalker?"

"God no," I scoffed, tossing my towel in the hamper before starting to slip on my underwear and clasp my bra, my arms bending behind my back, "He followed me after and tried asking again. That right there told me it was time to leave, so I ordered an Uber. Here's where it gets interesting, and also a little blurry."

"He followed you? Ew, no," the disgust in her voice was made clear, "Go on though. He's already on my bad list."

"Trust me, you're never going to guess what happened next," I moved in front of my full-length mirror to style my shirt with my shorts, "When I went to get in my Uber, he was there. Right next to me. With his hand on mine to grab the same car handle. Here's the catch though. You ready for it?"

She let out a judgmental guess, "Did you fuck him in the Uber too?"

I froze and glared at the phone, "No. That happened one time, okay? I thought we made a pact to never speak of that again."

"You also said you'd keep your no contact order with Noah, but we both know you're about to break that in an hour or two," Jules had no trouble bluntly stating facts, no matter how insensitive it may have come across, "Am I wrong?"

My silence followed by changing the subject spoke for itself, "So he let me hop in my Uber after calling his ass out, but turned out it was actually his Uber. I didn't realize until I arrived at his very fancy apartment."

"Shut up!" she gasped with a laugh, "So you didn't fuck again in the Uber. It was at his place, wasn't it?"

"No!" I replied without a beat, "We only had sex that one time at the club. That was it. I was smart enough not to go inside. I waited on the stairs for my Uber he ordered for me. He waited with me, which was unexpected. It was kinda cute, actually."

"Okay, so first he's cute. Then, he's creepy," she tried following my contradictory story, "Now, he's cute again?"

Grabbing my phone, I walked back to my bathroom while replaying our interaction on the stairs of his apartment complex. A part of me wished I remembered more, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like we were ever going to see each other again.

"He told me his name," I abruptly stated, staring at my reflection in the mirror, "I think it was like, Josh or something. I don't have a last name to verify. On a completely unrelated note though, winged or wingless eyeliner?"

"This is for Noah, right?" my eyes instantly rolled at her response, "Definitely wingless. He doesn't deserve your time to define that perfect cut."

I began to dab the foundation on my bare face with a sponge that definitely needed replacing, "Why exactly don't you like him?"

"Because he broke your heart, Nat," her tone changed to something of a more serious softheartedness, "And broke mine too by taking you away from me the whole time you were dating. He's the reason why our friendship started to dissipate those three years, so forgive me for my very strong hate towards him and disapproval of you guys in the same room alone. I don't want to lose you again. We just got back to reconnecting this past year."

"I know," I softly said biting the inside of my lip, setting my sponge to the side, "That's not going to happen again. I promise you. He's just coming by to get the rest of his stuff I found the other day."

She drew out a long sigh, "That's all?"

"That's all," I reassured, but I think that was more for myself than to her.

The honest truth was I didn't know what was going to happen the second I saw Noah again. It had been a whole year. A whole year of healing. But it was also a whole year of missing him. Something about him made me crumble into this small dependent woman I barely recognized, but it was familiar. He was the definition of safe for me. Familiarity equated safe. I didn't know anything better.

My father would've been my first heartbreak if I had known him. If he ever had shown up in my life. But because he never did, Noah was my real first heartbreak. He was also the other boy that made me lose faith in humanity, yet I couldn't bring myself to stay away, always hoping that he changed.