But then what? How did I end up back here? She thought.
Sabrina got up from the bed and stood there for a moment, waiting to take a step until the woozy feeling passed. Once the room stopped moving, she walked over to the sink and filled a glass with water. The first sip didn't even make it to her throat, because it was absorbed by her bone-dry mouth. She continued drinking, though, knowing that hydration was the only thing that could rescue her from the of hangover. As she drank, she racked her brain, trying to piece together the puzzle of her memory from the previous cocktail-filled evening.
Okay, we obviously left the stadium. I remember that. But was it at the end of the game or did we leave early? God, I hope we didn't have to leave because I was too drunk. Then we came back to the hotel, of course, because I'm here. But why can't I remember anything between the stadium and here? She bombarded herself with questions, trying to put it all into place.
Suddenly, another snap shot memory flashed into her mind. She nearly dropped the glass into the sink but managed to save it.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, recalling what had happened between Marco and herself in the hallway outside of her room. “I tried to kiss him.”
Sabrina brought her hands up and ran her fingers through her hair as she paced the room. She remembered leaning in and Marco stopping her from kissing him. She remembered how he pressed his index finger into her lips to stop her and how he had said that it wasn't the right time.
Her face became hot and a wave of embarrassment filled her from head to toe. She was of course attracted to Marco, but never would she have consciously let herself try something so stupid.
“What if he fires me?” she said, still pacing frantically around the room. “I can't believe I did that. What in the hell was I thinking?”
Every possible worst-case scenario filled her mind. She feared she'd lose her job or that Marco would distance himself from her, making things between them awkward. She wanted to run over to his room and apologize, but then she also didn't want to bring it up.
What am I supposed to do? She thought. Maybe I'll just pretend I don't remember, and I won't even mention it. There's always the possibility that Marco won't recall what happened anyway. He was drunk too, right?
Sabrina slipped off her clothes, noticing a stain on the right leg of her jeans. She didn't remember spilling any of the orange concoction on herself, but then, she didn't remember much of anything from that night.
Once naked, she walked into the bathroom and took a quick shower. The heat and steam did a lot to ease the headache she had, and by the time she was finished, she felt substantially better. The shower did a lot, but it didn't help her cope with the embarrassment she had from try
ing to kiss Marco.
“I'll just pretend it didn't happen,” she said, matter-of-factly, stepping out of the shower. “That's the best option.”
After drying off, Sabrina got dressed. She had no idea what was on the itinerary for the day, but planned on doing the maid part of her job and cleaning Marco's hotel room for him. So she rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out a simple black t-shirt and some worn jeans, all clothes that she didn't care if she got dirty. After that, she slipped into her tennis shoes. Before walking out the door, she brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. One last look in the mirror revealed dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. She sighed and shrugged.
“Hopefully, I'll get some better sleep tonight,” she said, as she stepped out of her room and into the hallway.
She immediately took the three steps down the hall to Marco's door. After a few knocks, Marco opened the door. He was dressed in a white v-neck undershirt and white-washed jeans. His hair was still wet from a shower.
“Good morning. Please, come in,” he said, as he held the door open for Sabrina. “I just need to put on some socks and shoes, then we can go get breakfast.”
Sabrina followed him inside and took a seat on the chair next to his bed. She nearly told him that he could get breakfast and she would stay here and clean, like a good employee. But, she knew he would just insist on her coming with him anyway.
“How are you feeling?” Marco asked, as he dug through his suitcase for some socks.
“Better than I probably should be, given how drunk I was,” she said, as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. “Those orange drinks went straight to my head last night. I'm surprised I'm not sick right now. I'm definitely tired and thirsty, but other than that I think I'm okay.”
Marco chuckled, as he pulled some black socks from his bag and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “Yes, those drinks were a little stronger than I thought.”
“I don't remember much about what happened,” Sabrina said, hoping and praying that he'd believe her and not bring up their almost-kiss.
He gazed at her, and his lips curled up into a smirk. “You don't remember anything?”
“I remember orange drinks and the national anthem and...” Sabrina paused, as if she were deep in thought. “That's about it, I think. Thanks for getting me home safely.”
“You're very welcome,” Marco said, his voice flat. “I hope you have an appetite this morning.”
Sabrina placed her hand over her stomach. She had a tinge of nausea, but food sounded like it might actually help with that.
“I could eat,” she said. “But I also have a lot to do. I need to get your room cleaned and your bed made.”
“Let's get breakfast and then you can take care of the chores,” Marco said. “And don't argue with me that breakfast isn't a part of your job.”
It was already almost ten in the morning and Sabrina felt like a total slacker for having done nothing productive up to that point, with the exception of taking a few sips of water and getting a shower. But if she were to make anything of the day, she knew that food would be required.