Chapter 22
The room was a stark contrast to the cacophony of the main hall. Dimly lit, shrouded in shadows cast by a single flickering lamp, it offered a welcome respite from the flashing lights and pounding music. Ivan, perched on a plush couch, stared blankly at the opposite wall. His mind, however, was a whirlwind of activity, replaying a scene he desperately wished he could erase. The accident, raw and horrific, flickered behind his closed eyelids despite hours of therapy. A harsh scoff escaped his lips. So much for trying to move on.
The sudden creak of the heavy oak door jolted him from his reverie. He whipped his head around, expecting another partygoer seeking a quiet corner. To his surprise, a figure stumbled into the room, swaying precariously before collapsing against the door with a groan. A mess of brown hair obscured the face, but Ivan could see the rise and fall of unsteady breaths.
He frowned, a mixture of annoyance and concern battling within him. The last thing he needed right now was company, especially of the female variety with a desperate need for male attention. He braced himself for the inevitable questions, the coy glances, the lingering touches that usually came with such encounters. He sighed, pushing himself off the couch with a reluctance that surprised even him.
"Hey," he said gruffly, his voice laced with a weariness that belied his concern. "Are you alright?" He took a cautious step closer, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.
A frown creased Ivan's brow as recognition dawned. The girl sprawled on the floor, her hair cascading around her like a curtain, was none other than Dolores. Confusion warred with the flicker of concern simmering beneath the surface. What was she doing here, in this secluded corner of the house?
Dolores, oblivious to his confusion, let out a tinkling laugh as she lurched forward. Ivan's reflexes kicked in, his arms shooting out to catch her before she could hit the floor. He straightened, surprised by her weightlessness. She didn't seem weighed down by inebriation; rather, her movements were loose and uncontrolled, like a ragdoll. Her eyes were glazed over, a strange euphoria replacing their usual spark.
There was definitely alcohol involved, that much was clear. But it wasn't just any alcohol. The scent clinging to her breath wasn't the familiar one of cheap beer or strong spirits. It was saccharine.
"Alright, Dolores," he said. "You need to get home. You're clearly drunk"
Dolores, seemingly unaware of her precarious situation, giggled again, her hand reaching out to clutch at Ivan's shirt. "No home," she mumbled, her voice thick and slurred. Another giggle punctuated her statement. "Not drunk! Just happy! One punch, that's all."
Ivan sighed, the weight of the situation settling on him like a heavy cloak. Punch, indeed. She didn't just smell of the sugary concoction; she embodied it. Yet, despite the obvious intoxication, a strange sensation washed over him. Dolores' touch, usually unwelcome from other girls, didn't send the usual wave of revulsion down his spine. There was a strange innocence in her clingy embrace, a vulnerability that tugged at the protective instinct buried deep within him.
Just as she was about to pepper Ivan with another unintelligible question, the world lurched violently. A wave of nausea washed over her, so sudden and intense that she clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a rising gag.
Ivan, his brow furrowed in concern, took a cautious step back. "Are you alright, Dolores?" he asked, his voice laced with a gentleness.
Dolores, her stomach churning unpleasantly, could only manage a weak nod in response. The room seemed to be spinning, the flickering light from the lamp morphing into swirling vortexes of color. Ivan, sensing her discomfort, reached out a hand, steadying her before she could topple over.
With a groan, he pushed open the heavy oak door, the pulsating music from the main hall flooding in like a tidal wave. Dolores winced, the sudden burst of sound an assault on her already overloaded senses. The hallway, bathed in a dim, bluish light, was a chaotic scene. Couples groped at each other in darkened corners, while others leaned against the walls, their faces flushed and glazed. A group huddled around a window, puffing on cigarettes and laughing hysterically. The entire scene reeked of teenage indulgence, a stark contrast to the tense quietude of the secluded room.
Moving with a practiced ease, Ivan navigated the throng, one hand firmly clasped around Dolores' arm to keep her from stumbling. He spotted a door and steered her towards it, his jaw clenched in a tight line. Pushing open the door, he offered a silent prayer for an unoccupied washroom. Thankfully, the washroom was empty, the sterile white tiles offering a stark contrast to the wild party raging outside.
He gestured towards the sink, his voice firm yet gentle. "Here, sit down for a minute."
Dolores, her head swimming, slumped down onto a stool, her eyes fluttering closed momentarily. When she opened them again, they met Ivan's gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that spoke volumes of his frustration.
"You should stay put for a while," he said, his voice low. "I'll call you a taxi. No need to go back out there."
Just as he turned to retrieve his phone from his pocket, Dolores' hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Her earlier carefree demeanor had morphed into a pouty frown. "Ivan," she slurred, her voice thick and childish. "Why so… brood-y?"
Her eyes, usually shining with intelligence and curiosity, were now clouded with intoxication. They drifted from his face, lingering for a moment on his lips before flickering back up to meet his gaze. A flicker of something primal, something raw and unbidden, stirred within Ivan.
Before he could react, she leaned forward, her breath warm against his cheek. Instinctively, his hand shot out, gently prying her fingers loose from his shirt. A jolt of electricity crackled between them, a physical reaction that sent a wave of shame crashing down on him.
"Dolores," he said, his voice firm, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within him. "Don't… You're drunk, and I will not take advantage of that." His ginger eyes held a steely glint, a warning that sliced through the haze clouding her mind.
Dolores' world narrowed to a single point – Ivan's lips. Fueled by the intoxicating concoction and the unexpected turn of events, she did the unthinkable. She tiptoed on her unsteady feet and, with a boldness fueled by liquid courage, leaned in, her lips brushing hesitantly against his.
The kiss took Ivan by surprise. His eyes widened in shock, his mind reeling from the sudden intimacy. His first instinct was to push her away, a voice deep within him screaming warnings about her inebriated state. But before he could react, Dolores, emboldened by the lack of immediate rejection, wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, a tangle of clumsy passion fueled by her intoxication and his own suppressed desire.
A war raged within Ivan. One part of him, the responsible one, screamed at him to stop, to take advantage of a girl who was clearly not in control of her faculties. The other part, a primal instinct awakened by her touch and the unexpected spark between them, whispered a different story. He pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the sensation of her soft lips against his, the way her taste lingered on his tongue. His hands, hesitant at first, found purchase on her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground until she was perched precariously on the edge of the sink.
A moan escaped Dolores' lips as she deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer. The tile countertop felt cool beneath her skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Ivan's body. In that moment, logic was a distant whisper, drowned out by the intoxicating mix of alcohol and desire.
A primal growl rumbled deep in Ivan's chest as he pushed Dolores further up the counter, their kiss a desperate battle for dominance. He reveled in the feel of her soft curves pressed against him, the intoxicating scent of the drink mingling with her natural perfume. His hands roamed her back, tracing the line of her spine with a possessiveness that surprised even him.
Dolores, caught in the throes of her own inebriated desire, responded with equal fervor. Her legs, momentarily steadier thanks to the counter's support, wrapped instinctively around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. A whimper escaped her lips as she arched her back, her body clamoring for a touch she couldn't quite articulate.
The bathroom door creaked open with a horrifying groan, jolting Ivan back to reality. He tore his lips away from Dolores with a gasp, the heat of their kiss replaced by a cold dread. Pushing her gently off the counter, he stumbled back, his eyes darting towards the intruder.
Standing in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, was none other than Axel. A lighter flickered in his hand, casting an orange glow on his face as he attempted to light a cigar. His eyes, usually a cold blue-grey, were narrowed as he took in the scene. Dolores, disoriented and swaying slightly, leaned her head against Ivan's chest, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.
A tense silence stretched between the three of them, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, Axel drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "As much as I hate to interrupt whatever little… extracurricular activity you two are having," he paused, taking a long drag from his now lit cigar, the smoke curling towards the ceiling, "I don't exactly want to wake up tomorrow morning and find two people coiled up in my washroom like some kind of lovesick… project."
Axel's gaze flicked back to Dolores, a mocking smile twisting his lips. "Well," he drawled, the amusement gone from his voice, replaced by a cold edge. "Obviously a little worse for wear, wouldn't you say?" He gestured with his cigar towards Dolores, the smoke curling around his hand like a malevolent spirit. "Wouldn't look good for you, would it, Ivan? A knight in shining armor, maybe, but still… seen leaving the bathroom with a girl clearly under the influence." His words hung heavy in the air, a veiled threat dripping from every syllable.
Ivan's jaw clenched tight, his fists balling at his sides. The playful taunts were one thing, but this, this was a low blow. He refused to engage with Axel's twisted game, his silence a thunderous response. Instead, he focused on Dolores, his concern momentarily overshadowing the simmering anger. Placing a steadying hand on her arm, he met her gaze, his eyes filled with a quiet strength.
"We're leaving," he announced, his voice low but firm. Ignoring Axel's mocking presence, he gently guided Dolores out of the bathroom, her head resting listlessly against his shoulder. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind them, leaving Axel alone in the small bathroom, a wisp of cigar smoke curling towards the flickering light bulb like a ghostly question mark.