Her friends who came with her tried to take her home with them, but she refused. She told them that if this is the one night she has to be free before she gets married and spend the rest of her life with someone she doesn't love, she wants to spend it well.
As the night wore on, Ethan and Sophie found themselves lost in conversation, sharing stories and laughter. They exchanged numbers. Few minutes after their long conversation, the music that was playing began to wind down.
Ethan and Sophie found themselves walking out of the club, the cool night air enveloping them like a refreshing blanket. Despite the lingering effects of the alcohol, they were both surprisingly lucid, their earlier intoxication having given way to a clearer, more rational state of mind.
As they strolled through the parking lot, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the surrounding cars, Ethan gallantly offered Sophie his arm, escorting her to her vehicle with a charming, old-world courtesy that made her feel like a princess.
Upon reaching her car, Ethan turned to her and said, "Let me get one of my drivers to take us back to the hotel. You shouldn't be driving, after everything we've had tonight."
Sophie nodded gratefully, feeling a wave of relief wash over her at the prospect of not having to navigate the roads herself. Ethan quickly pulled out his phone and dialed a number, speaking briefly to someone on the other end before turning back to Sophia and saying,
"My driver, Marcus, will take us to the hotel. He'll be here in just a minute." True to Ethan's word, a sleek black sedan pulled up a moment later, and Marcus, a courteous, impeccably dressed driver, emerged to where they were standing.
He greeted them and helped Sophie into the back seat. Ethan followed, sitting beside her. Despite their drunken state, laughter still bubbled up between them, light and unrestrained.
Marcus could tell they were tipsy, perhaps more than just tipsy. But he said nothing, simply driving them through the quiet city streets.
At the hotel, they clumsily stepped out of the car, laughing at themselves as they leaned on each other for balance.
Sophie was clearly more drunk than Ethan, and he, without thinking wrapped an arm around her, supporting her as they walked into the lobby. Though they had initially been assigned separate rooms, their current state led them to request just one key.
The receptionist, too tired or too polite to ask questions, handed them a single key card, one that belonged to Ethan's room.
Once inside, Ethan flicked on the lights. Sophie, barely able to stand upright, collapsed onto the bed with a deep sigh, a smile spreading across her lips.
"I can't remember the last time I had this much fun," she murmured, eyes half-closed.
"Me too," Ethan replied softly, kicking off his shoes and lowering himself beside her. The energy in the room shifted—still light, but charged with something deeper.
They lay in silence for a moment, side by side, the room dim and still. Then, almost without realizing it, they turned to face each other. Their eyes locked.
There was no pretense between them now, only unspoken understanding and the quiet ache of two souls searching for something real, even if just for a night.
Ethan reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Sophie's face. She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her breath hitching slightly.
He moved closer, his hand resting gently on her waist, testing the space between them. Her response was subtle, a soft sigh, a slight tilt of her head but it was enough.
Their lips met in a kiss that was slow, tentative at first, then deepening with urgency. The world outside the room seemed to vanish.
They held each other like people who didn't want to think about tomorrow. Clothes were slowly, clumsily removed, laughter and sighs blending as they explored the unfamiliar comfort of each other's skin.
They made love with a kind of reckless tenderness, fueled by alcohol, yes—but also by a need for connection, for escape, for the illusion that this moment was something more than just temporary.
For Sophie, it was rebellion. For Ethan, it was curiosity, fascination, maybe even something unspoken.
Later, tangled in sheets and silence, they lay breathless, staring at the ceiling. No words were needed. The night had said enough.
The next morning came. Before the sun had fully risen, Ethan stirred awake with a headache pulsing in his head, a hangover from the previous night's indulgence.
As he turned over, he noticed a girl lying beside him on the bed, her back to him. All he could see was a curtain of long dark hair sprawled across the pillow.
With the nonchalant attitude he was known for, Ethan didn't bother to check who she was.
"She's probably one of the strippers I picked up from the club last night," he thought to himself as he swung his legs off the bed and stood up.
He walked into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and dried it with a towel. Without another glance at the girl, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, got dressed quickly, and walked out of the room without saying a word.
Meanwhile, as the morning sunlight streamed softly through the curtains, Sophie slowly woke up. Her head pounding with pain, and her mouth was dry from the effects of alcohol. Disoriented at first, she blinked several times, trying to piece together the memories from the night before.
She reached for her phone to check the time—and panic struck. She was already late for work.
In a rush, she threw off the covers and stumbled out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom. She splashed water on her face, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep and alcohol-induced fogginess. Without looking around the room any further, she grabbed her belongings and left for home in a hurry.
At home, her mother was already up and seated at the breakfast table, sipping tea and reading the morning paper. As Sophie walked in, still flustered, her mother looked up sharply.
"You're late, young lady," she said, her voice laced with concern and quiet disapproval. "And you smell like a brewery. What happened last night?"
Sophie offered a sheepish smile and muttered an apology. "I just had a few too many drinks at a party," she explained quickly, trying not to reveal too much.
Her mother narrowed her eyes but said nothing for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she shook her head. "Just be more careful next time, okay?"
"I will," Sophie said, already halfway to her room.
Knowing she was short on time, she moved quickly. After a fast shower, she got dressed in her go-to corporate outfit: a crisp white blouse tucked into a navy blue pencil skirt, paired with modest low-heeled pumps.
She tied her long, dark hair back into a sleek, low ponytail and applied minimal, polished makeup that gave her a professional look despite the tiredness in her eyes.
As she stepped out the door, bag slung over her shoulder, her mother called after her, "Don't forget to grab some coffee on your way!"
Sophie nodded and offered a faint smile, already bracing herself for the day ahead, hungover, heart pounding, and unaware of what the night's consequences might mean.