Nothing was more miserable than a rude awakening from an outstanding sex dream. The curtains were drawn, so the room was still dark. The bedside clock was screaming at me, a high pitched, desperate squeal begging me to get up. I was not complying.
That was the probkem with parties. Getting too drunk, or too stoned, made it nearly impossible to get up the next morning. That was the real reason te city never stopped going. Everyone was too strung out on homemade speed or whatever to stand still.
I had a pretty decent headache myself, but somehow I managed to stumble from the tangle of sheets to the oversized bathroom. With the lights on I had no choice but to look into the mirror, to meet the gaze of the imposter pretending to be me. Black hair in curls still half formed. Icy blue eyes that could cut like a straight razor. Behind the cold demeaner, I was simply falling apart.
I had to hide it, of course. I was Trinity Hills, for God's sake, the embodiment of beauty, power, and brilliance. I was New York City.
So I ripped of my skin tight tee, the only thing I was wearing anyway, and clamoured into the shower to wash away the sins of the city lights. If I'd learned anything in sixteen years, it was that one must never have regrets. One could do anything they wanted, so long as they had an alibi to hide it with. These were the real lessons to be taught in school.
It wasnt long before I had finished, rinsing awyway the conditioner and last traces of the night from my hair. I wrapped myself up tightly in a plush towel of the deepest red, but not before the chill had crept into my slender body.
And so another day in my life began. To the outside worls I lived in the fast lane, always somewhere to go and someone to meet. In reality, my universe was dull, revolving around a set routine all planned out. I was nothing but a slave to expectations.
I had my escaes, of course, my ways of defying the role I was cast to play. At the top of that list was Crimson. Just thinking of him brought a smile to my lips, one I fully embraced. Then I dropped the towel ad returned to my adjoining room to prepare for all that summer would bring.
Walking in heels was an underappreciated talent. I could have taken a taxi and saved the pain I was sure to be in that night. But for the moment I was busy reveling in all the turning heads and the overwhelming beauty of the city. Most of the time I hated New York, so filled with order and power and expectations. Mornings like this, though, the sun reflectiong on the sky scrapers and gentle breeze shaking the trees, I got caught up in it all.
There was a cafe about two blocks from my townhouse. It was quaint sort of place, where people who thought they were my friends might wait aroound to meet me. it was also the unofficial sobering spot, where alcohol hazes could be drowned in coffee and the dim lighting shielded bloodshot eyes.
That was my destination. I wasnt necessarily hungover, but I could certainly use the coffee. Besides, someone was bound to be there. And I did so crave human contact. My nanny had always said it came from a fear of abandonment.
Whatever the psychological reasoning, as soon as I strode across the threshold of Enlighten I was scanning for someone to talk to. Maybe brag a bit about the crazy summer kickoff party and all my plans for the next three months.
The gaze I did finally meet simply made me want to run. Very, very far.