Chapter 10: A Dejavu

Huddle up in the rear passenger's seat, Paige fidgets, quite tipsy. Though she was a bit sober, she was still looser. The urge to share her story came to her easier than it would normally have.

She scoffs, out of nowhere and Clinton checks in on her through the rearview mirror. "Isn't it funny?" she slurred. Involuntarily, she starts sobbing as if she was not the one who just scoffed.

The latter was all ears now, listening attentively without interruption as Paige shared her story of betrayal by the people whom she trusted.

His heart went to her though he knew nothing about her. After about 40 minutes drive, he pulled into the forecourt of his luxurious flat.

The exterior design screamed his lavish lifestyle. The apartment was a stunning sight to behold with its imposing entryway. The opulent exterior design from the imported marble floors and walls to the ornate hand-carved woodwork and gilded accents, was a testament to the owner's extravagant tastes.

Compared to the other, sleek and sophisticated mansions on the street, this one stood out ostentatiously as if it needed to one-up its neighbors at all costs.

But despite this grand display, Paige registered nothing. She was too out of it to appreciate the expansive view. Stepping out of the car on her own was even a big deal.

With Clinton's help, she hurled out of the car– giggling amidst sobs and saying something which one could barely make out the words while they staggered their way to the doorpost.

CHIRP!

Clinton swipes his card on the card reader, unlocking the door. Pushing it open, he steps in with her while the door automatically locks behind them.

The interior decadent decor was the perfect cherry topping for the whole structure. Not to talk of the luxurious master suite, complete with a private balcony overlooking the city and backyard pool. A Jacuzzi tub, and a massive walk-in closet.

The high-end appliances and state-of-the-art home theater system were just a few of the amenities that he could simply not live without.

Clinton was just going to drop the drunk head on his master bed, being the gentleman he was while he used the sofa in the living room; giving her some privacy but then, things took turns.

Instead of lying down to rest and sober up, Paige sat upright the moment she was put in bed. "Get some rest," Clinton encouraged as he turned on his feet about to leave.

"What about you?" she muttered, making him pause in his tracks. "Are you going to stay by my side?"

Clinton turned to look at her, marching back to the bedside where she sat and knelt before her– staring intently into her eyes which were glossy and red due to the alcohol and tears.

She bated her eyes fully open, returning his gaze. With his thumb, he wiped the tears from her flushed cheeks and took her hand into hers, gently squeezing it.

"And what if I say I will?" he held her gaze with meaning. And this simple gesture sent warm feelings through her body.

Silence engulfs them as their eyes remain locked. As if in sync, Paige leans forward– without warning, she presses her lips against his. Slowly, she starts moving it against his, which he yields to. Picking up the pace as he kept wanting more, he drew closer until their bodies touched, and then his other hand came up, his warm fingers grasping her waist, pulling her even closer still. They were both lost in each other's kiss.

☆☆☆☆☆

Paige wiped the crust off her eyes while waking up in the extravagant master bedroom. Her brow creased, and on cue, she noticed a man with dark lush hair lying down next to her, facing down in the bed. She began to think, 'What have I done?', then she remembered she had gone to the pub last night.

The weird thing was that they were both fully clothed from a night of drinking and partying, who knows what could have happened while fully intoxicated? She frantically jumped from the bed, reeking of booze. And her head spun like crazy from the aftermath.

Looking around for her cell phone and bag, she soon realized that she would have to retrace her steps from last night. Leaving the unknown man behind, she began to head out to the Pub. It was on the north side of the city, about a 30-minute drive from where she lived. She got out of the cab, with a migraine– she had to find her car.

But the aching in her skull ebbs and flows like a cold tide, yet the pain is always there. She understands at once why they call it a hangover, for it feels as if the blackest of clouds are over her head with no intention of clearing until late afternoon.

Managing her way somehow into the premises of the Pub, she notices her car parked in the parking area of the bar. Gliding in, she puts her head on the stirring wheel. The hangover felt like a balloon under her cranium, slowly being inflated, pressure mounting but she had to get herself out and moving.

Jerking up, she kickstarted the engine, pulled into the driveway, and rode into the main street. Annoyed and numb, she could feel the cold breeze hitting her face through the open window as she drove to her place on Corona Street but first, she was going to go through her mother's place to get her things.

-----

In the soft white-gold light of the new day, the hues of the bedroom move from impressionist pastels to brilliant pop art.

Clinton woke up to the sound of his alarm only to find the spot where Paige had laid empty.

His brain played the last few scenes of the previous night. Everything released vividly before his eyes like they were happening now. He chuckles, touching his lips as he smiles at Paige's cuteness.

He thought she was going to go all out but just when things were getting steamy, she knocked out. He was still in his fantasy of thought when the unlocking sound of his door jolted him to reality.

He flung his legs off the bed and got up, putting his legs in his bedroom slippers. He saunters into the living room and notices his younger brother in the open kitchen.

He heads to the kitchen, " What brought you here?" he queried, his voice flat and devoid of all emotions as he walked over to the refrigerator– reaching into it for a bottle of water.

"The obvious?" he uttered with some sense of sarcasm. Unlike Clinton, Kelvin was more lively and carefree.

"Don't tell me mum asked you," he said, walking back to the living room and settling on the sofa.

"Perhaps you can save me the stress by getting yourself a girlfriend," Kelvin snapped, washing the groceries he had just brought in.

"I will have to get to the company," he shrugs up from his seat. "Grandpa's request," he sighs, heading back to his bedroom to freshen up.

------

Itzel was the first person Paige met as she walked to the house. She had just stepped into the living room as she was returning from her room.

"Where have you been?" she inquired, as Paige approached from the entrance but the latter gave her no audience while she walked passed her.

Itzel scoffs, "I can see you are at it again. But aren't you being too dramatic?" she spoke with so much disdain which caused Paige to look sharply at her.

She looked at her with eyes that appeared to pierce her soul; They were like stone, and her mouth was unsmiling. She was sure not to show any weakness in the eyes of her enemy.

As if on an impulse, a smile played at the corners of her lips as if to mock her. "And what about you? Aren't you being too obvious of a cheap slut?" she said, determined not to be put off as she made sure to hit back hard, remaining composed and unshaken.

Itzel's countenance changed immediately as the two lapsed into silence with the former, burning with rage. Like an open book, Paige could read right through her.

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