Isobel Hughes ➤ Rapunzel (sanslumieres) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-03-28 21:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | rapunzel |
Who: Isobel
What: Missing moments
Where: A hotel room in Seattle, near the coast
When: Monday morning, before the feelings plot
Warnings: None
She awoke laying in a bed that wasn't her own, the sheets crisp and slick against her body, the soft smell of fresh-cut flowers lingering in the air. Her head felt funny, full of cotton wool, and the first few moments of awareness were confusing, puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together, and it took her a few long minutes before she was willing to sit up. It was then she became aware of the fact that she wore nothing under the covers, and despite her apparent solitude in the hotel room, she grabbed hold of the sheet and pulled it up to cover her nudity. The weeks prior were a blur of snapshots of memory, too cluttered to piece together at that moment.
So she rose, reluctant to leave the comfort of the bed, dragging the sheet along with her, wrapping it toga-style around her body. "What in the world did you get yourself wrapped up in, Isobel?" she asked herself, padding over to the mirror that hung above the dark wood dresser, staring at her reflection as though it would hold some answers. Her hair was dirty, dark shadows underneath blue eyes that were incredibly blood shot. If she didn't know better, she'd say she had had a heavy night of partying, but if that was the case, wouldn't there be some evidence to support it?
But there was just an empty hotel room, a pile of clothes puddled on the floor beside the bed, and little else to tell of how she had gotten there. The lack of her purse, or even her phone, made her stomach twist. Something was wrong.
The club was hot, sweaty bodies pressed to one another, and she moved in unison with the man pressed up behind her. His hands were all over her, his touch electric, and she laughed, throwing her head back against his shoulder as she ground her-
Isobel started suddenly at that, tearing her gaze away from her reflection, hiking her sheet up further though it hadn't slipped in the slightest. That... had been strange. The memory felt real, solid and true, but it left a funny taste on her tongue. A drunken night was perhaps not as farfetched as she had thought. Her brow furrowed and she wandered towards the bathroom, an exquisite arrangement that she should have appreciated more than she did at that moment. But right now, her mind was elsewhere as she dropped her sheet, turning the water on for the shower and letting it warm, filling the room with a soft steam. Stepping beneath the spray, Isobel turned her face into it, letting the memories come, snapshots of times that she had a hard time accepting ownership of.
They were laughing as they boarded the plane, tickets clutched in their hands as they walked down the corridor together. He was sweet, a little serious at times, though whenever she laughed, it seemed he couldn't resist joining in. Their seats were in first class, and she had been surprised at the extravagance he had gone too, but all reservations were swept away as he gestured to their seats, recommending that she take the window seat; the view of the ocean was incredible. She wouldn't want to miss it.
The flight was long, but Hawaii was a long ways away, and she had alternated between dozing, her head on his shoulder, hand entwined with his, and yammering on about this and that in her excitement. She had never been, she explained, and he listened, ever patient, ever focused on her. When they finally landed, there were leis passed around, and she couldn't help but laughing as he helped her pick her hair out from the flowers, his skilled hands arranging the flowers just so, commenting on how they brought out the blue of her eyes. That had prompted more laughter, a joyful landing for this impromptu vacation.
The days were filled with the beaches, toes buried in the sand, the sun beating down on bare skin. They snorkeled and even went parasailing, a boat tour of the other islands, nights in the clubs and mornings tangled in up in one another beneath the thin covering of the sheet. It was a trip any girl would die for, and she was determined to live it up to the best she could.
It seemed, though, like it had ended suddenly. One morning, they were enjoying the beaches, the world stretched out in front of them, and the next, he was helping her to her new room, the one she had woken up to, kissing her cheek and telling her that he had had a wonderful time. Perhaps they should do it again.
And then... he had left.
Isobel lifted her hand to touch her cheek, swearing she could still feel the burn of his lips against her skin, a shudder of unnamed emotion running through her as she let the spray wash away the tears that had started to feel.
They were wonderful memories. But why couldn't she remember his name?