HOW TO CATCH A BAD BOY

She acknowledged a pang of guilt creeping in; perhaps Chandler had a point she didn’t want to admit. She had overreacted, letting her emotions steer the conversation into a storm, and now regret settled in like an unwelcome visitor.

As she dried herself off and slipped into the nightwear, she acknowledged the meticulous care he had taken to ensure her comfort-a thoughtful touch that softened the edges of her frustration. But concern for him gnawed at her insides. It was well past the hour of reason, and he hadn’t returned back to the room.

Ignoring the late hour, Elena made a quick decision. She hurriedly dressed, the fabric of the nightwear swishing softly with her hurried movements. With a flutter of nervousness in her chest, she quietly stepped out into the deserted hallway, searching for any sign of Chandler. The hallway was eerily silent, amplifying the ticking of her racing heart. Her gaze flickered between the corridor and the closed doors, her footsteps echoing against the floor. She glanced at her phone-3:30 am. Anxiety clawed at her mind, painting scenarios of where Chandler could be.

She moved cautiously down the hallway, a mix of worry and determination fuelling her steps. The hotel felt like a maze at this hour, with uncertainty lurking around each corner. Yet, she couldn’t let Chandler wander in solitude, not after their disagreement. She had to find him, had to set things right.

She took the elevator down, finally she found him in the bar, except he wasn’t alone. Drink in hand, he stood, leaning against the wall. A woman stood in front of him, and Elena recognized her as one of the women she’d seen Chandler talk to at the party. Her steps slowed for some reason, and finally she came to a halt when she saw the woman lean over and press her lips to his.

Elena blinked. At that moment, this was the last place she wanted to be, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to move an inch. She saw Chandler look up. He saw her too and she watched him move away from the woman, but Elena had seen enough. She whirled around, and almost ran into the elevator.

Her heart was beating fast and blinked several times. Telling herself repeatedly not to cry or scream. She had absolutely no reason to. Chandler wasn’t hers and it was none of her business if he kissed other women. She hurried into the room and shut the door behind her, then she climbed into bed and wished for daylight to come so she could leave and just forget about this awful night.

——–

Elena lay on the bed, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, heart heavy with the image of Chandler’s lips meeting someone else’s. She had retreated to the confines of their hotel room after seeing them, seeking solace within its walls, yet finding none. Her mind replayed the scene again and again, the hurt digging deeper with each iteration.

The click of the door disrupted her reverie, and she tensed as Chandler stepped inside. She could feel his eyes on her, his presence weighing heavily in the room. She didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t bear to see any attempt at explanation or justification. The silence between them was palpable, a thick fog enveloping the space.

Chandler hesitated, attempting to breach the chasm of silence. “Elena..,” he implored, his voice laced with regret.

But Elena couldn’t bring herself to engage. She turned her head away, her voice strained with hurt and betrayal. It hurt so much even if it wasn’t supposed to, and she had no idea why, but all she knew was that she couldn’t bring herself to face him or talk to him. “I don’t want to talk, Chandler, Please. Just… just go to bed. I think we can both agree that nothing good comes from us having a conversation about anything. We’ll go our separate ways tomorrow.”Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

The air in the room grew heavier, laden with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Chandler sighed, defeated. If anyone got an award for the worst date ever, it’d be him. He’d been a little drunk, and he wasn’t expecting that Jennifer would kiss him. It’d come unexpectedly and he didn’t even kiss her back, but being the unlucky person that he always was, Elena had seen them, and there was nothing he could say at the moment to make her understand. He’d only make things worse if he tried. He reluctantly acquiesced, choosing the couch as a makeshift bed. The distant streetlights cast dim shadows across the room, amplifying the silence that loomed between them.

Minutes ticked by, yet sleep eluded both of them. Elena’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions-pain, confusion, and a tinge of anger. She turned on her side, facing away from Chandler, clutching the blankets tightly against her chest as if seeking comfort from their soft embrace.

Chandler lay on the couch, his mind a tumultuous sea of remorse and regret. He couldn’t shake off the ache of knowing he had caused Elena such distress. The sound of her shallow breaths from the bed seemed to echo in the room, a stark reminder of the rift that had formed between them.

The night stretched on, the minutes feeling like hours in the heavy silence of the room. Each heartbeat seemed to resonate with the unspoken words, the pain of an unresolved conflict hanging thick in the air, preventing the solace of sleep from finding them.

———

At some point she must have fallen into a troubled sleep, because she woke up three hours later. Waking up in that monstrosity of a bed was disorienting, to say the least. It was so, so dark in the room that it took her a solid thirty seconds to get her bearings.

At some point, after he sprawled his big body on the little couch and she’d fallen asleep, Chandler must’ve woken to tug the heavy curtains shut. The tiniest sliver of light came through the separation of the two pieces of fabric, and the way it fell, it cut straight across the middle of the room. Almost like a line had been drawn between the bed where she was lying and where Chandler lay. His long legs were dangling off the edge of the couch, and he had one muscular, inked arm slung over his face.