A night out

The mirror reflected a beautiful view of sequins and laughter. Maya swirled in front of it, a whirlwind of emerald green silk, the dress a bold, impulsive purchase that she felt both thrilled and slightly ridiculous in. Her best friends, Cindy and Olivia, were a blur of hairspray and perfume clouds around her, their chatter a familiar, comforting hum. Olivia, ever the pragmatist, was meticulously applying her lipstick, while Cindy, the effervescent one, was already dancing to the upbeat pop song blasting from her phone.

"You look incredible, Maya!" Cindy exclaimed, finally pausing her impromptu dance routine to give Maya a genuine once-over. "Seriously, green is your color."

"Yeah, absolutely stunning," Olivia agreed, nodding decisively. "Though, are you sure about those heels? You know what happened last time and heels…" Olivia trailed off, her eyes twinkling with amusement, referencing Maya's unfortunate encounter with a rogue paving stone and a rather embarrassing tumble a few months prior.

Maya laughed, grabbing her clutch bag and a faux confident air. "These heels are staying upright tonight. Promise. Tonight's about letting loose, right?"

There was a slight tremor in her voice, masked by forced enthusiasm. The truth was, 'letting loose' wasn't Maya's usual Saturday night agenda. Her weeks were typically a carefully orchestrated balance of work, yoga, and early nights with a book. But recently, the balance had felt…off. A quiet hum of unease had settled beneath the surface, a feeling she couldn't quite name but desperately wanted to shake off. Hence, the emerald dress, the slightly-too-high heels, and the promise to 'let loose'.

The bar was already buzzing when they arrived, a cacophony of music, laughter, and clinking glasses. The air was thick with the scent of sugary cocktails and something vaguely floral. Maya ordered a gin and tonic, feeling a surge of nervous excitement as she took the first sip. Chloe and Olivia were already deep in conversation, their heads bent together, their voices animated. Maya leaned back, letting the music wash over her and the gin begin to work its subtle magic.

One drink turned into two, then three. The laughter of her friends, the vibrant energy of the crowd, the rhythmic pulse of the music, it all started to blend into a pleasant, hazy blur. Maya felt herself relax, the knot of tension in her shoulders loosening its grip. She danced with Cindy, laughing until her sides hurt, and even attempted to sing along to a song she vaguely knew, much to Olivia's amusement.

But somewhere between the third and fourth drink, the pleasant haze began to shift. The edges of everything sharpened, and the laughter seemed to echo too loudly in her ears. The room felt warmer, or maybe it was just her. Her thoughts, which had been pleasantly vacant, started to swirl, gaining momentum, like leaves caught in a sudden gust of wind.

She felt detached, watching herself from somewhere outside her own body. She saw herself laughing, accepting another drink offered by Chloe, joining Olivia in a conversation about work, but it all felt…manufactured. Like she was an actress playing a role, and the script was starting to feel flimsy and unreal.

The room swayed slightly. Or was it her? She gripped her glass a little tighter, focusing on the cool condensation against her fingers. She should probably stop drinking. Yes, definitely stop. But the thought felt too complicated, too much effort. Easier to just…keep going.

Another song started, a pulsing beat that vibrated through her chest. She swayed to it, feeling oddly disconnected from the movement of her own body. She was vaguely aware of Olivia signaling to the bartender for another round. And then, something shifted.

Amidst the swirling thoughts and the rising tide of disorientation, a single, clear thought broke through the fog. It wasn't a conscious decision, more like an instinct, a primal urge that bypassed all logic and reason. Connor.

The name flashed in her mind, bright and insistent. Connor. She needed Connor. Why? She couldn't articulate it, couldn't explain it even to herself, but the feeling was undeniable, overwhelming. Like a compass needle swinging wildly, finally settling, unerringly, north.

Her fingers fumbled in her clutch for her phone. The screen swam into focus, blurry and distorted. She navigated, somehow, to her contacts. C…o…n…n…o…r. There. She tapped his name. Then, with a clumsy swipe, she shared her location. Another tap, the call connected.

She held the phone to her ear, the noise of the bar fading into a dull roar. She could hear a faint ringing, then a click. "Hello?" Connor's voice, clear and grounded, cut through the haze.

Maya opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a jumble of incoherent words, slurred and mumbled. She tried to focus, to form a sentence, any sentence, but her brain felt like cotton wool. "Con…nor…" she managed, the name escaping her lips like a sigh.

Then, everything went black.

Connor was sprawled on his sofa, half-heartedly watching a late-night reruns of sports highlights. He was tired, the week had been relentless, and all he wanted was to switch off his brain and drift into sleep. His phone buzzed on the coffee table, startling him slightly. He glanced at the screen. Maya.

He frowned, surprised. Maya rarely called this late, especially on a Saturday night. He answered, "Hey Maya, everything okay?"

But instead of Maya's usual cheerful greeting, all he heard was a garbled string of sounds. He held the phone tighter, listening intently. "Maya? Maya, is that you? What's wrong?"

The sounds continued, unintelligible, punctuated by what sounded like muffled laughter and loud music in the background. Then, just as abruptly as it started, the call cut off.

Connor stared at his phone, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. He tried calling back, but it went straight to voicemail. He was about to call Olivia or Cindy because he thought he heard one of their voices in the background of the gibberish when his phone buzzed again. A notification. Location shared by Maya.

He clicked on the link, and Google Maps popped up, pinpointing a bar in a part of town Maya rarely frequented. His unease morphed into alarm. Something wasn't right. Maya was never this…careless.

He jumped up from the sofa, grabbing his jacket and keys. He watched a bit more before stopping to think, analyze the situation. Instinct took over. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that Maya rarely ever called this late, so why call and send her location to him?

He grabbed his keys and jacket thinking "I can't get any sleep right now any way, I might as well just take a drive".

The bar was even louder and more crowded than he'd imagined. He pushed his way through the throng, scanning faces, feeling a rising tide of panic. He spotted Cindy and Olivia first, huddled together near the bar, looking slightly panicked themselves.

"Cindy! Olivia!" he called out, his voice strained.

They turned, their faces lighting up with relief when they saw him. "Connor! Thank the heavens you're here! There's no better person I'll want here right now" Cindy exclaimed, rushing towards him. "We've lost Maya! We turned around for like, two seconds, and she was just…gone."

"Lost? What do you mean lost?" Connor's voice was sharp with worry. "She called me and sent her location to me that's why I'm here"

"We think she went to the bathroom," Olivia explained, her voice trembling slightly, "but that was ages ago. We've looked everywhere, and her phone's going straight to voicemail."

Connor's heart pounded against his ribs. He pushed past them, heading deeper into the crowded bar. He moved with a focused urgency, his eyes scanning every corner, every alcove, searching for a flash what Cindy described as a glimpse of emerald green, for the familiar curve of Maya's smile.

He found her slumped against a corner wall, half-hidden behind a potted plant. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, her emerald dress crumpled around her. Relief flooded through him, so potent it almost knocked him off his feet. But relief was quickly replaced by concern. She wasn't just lost; she was completely out of it.

He knelt beside her, gently shaking her shoulder. "Maya? Maya, wake up. It's Connor."

Her eyelids fluttered open, heavy and unfocused. She blinked, her gaze vague and distant.

"Conn…or?" she mumbled,

her voice thick with sleep and alcohol. A faint, confused smile touched her lips. "You came…"

"Of course, I came," he said softly, his voice laced with concern. He carefully helped her to sit up, pulling her arm around his shoulder for support. She leaned heavily against him, her head lolling against his chest.

"Let's get you home," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

Getting Maya out of the bar was a slow, careful process. She was like a rag doll, limp and unresponsive, her feet dragging on the floor. Cindy and Olivia helped, their earlier panic replaced by a quiet, worried efficiency, not like they were in the best of shape either. They hailed a taxi, and Connor carefully settled Maya into the backseat, wedging her between himself and Olivia.

The taxi ride was silent, punctuated only by Maya's soft, mumbled breaths. Connor watched her face, his brow furrowed with concern. He'd never seen her like this. She was usually so composed, so in control. This vulnerable, disoriented Maya was unfamiliar, and it tugged at something deep within him, a protective instinct he hadn't realized he possessed.

They reached His Loft. Connor carried her up to his door, Cindy and Olivia trailing behind. He fumbled with the keys, finally managing to unlock the door and gently carry her inside.

Cindy and Olivia helped him get Maya into pajamas he had picked up in a whim in one of his many trips and tucked into bed. They fussed around her for a few minutes, their voices hushed with concern, before quietly excusing themselves, promising to check in the next day.

Connor was left alone in with Maya, the quiet stillness a stark contrast to the noise of the bar. He looked at Maya sleeping peacefully in his bed, her face pale but serene in the soft lamplight. He knew he should leave,find a place to make to his own bed. But he couldn't bring himself to be too far away in the event she needed help. Not yet.

He wandered into the living room, pulling the throw pillows from the armchair and settling onto the couch. He could have easily gotten a hotel that night but He couldn't explain it, not even to himself, but he felt a deep, instinctive need to stay, to make sure she was alright. He lay on the uncomfortable couch, the throw a poor substitute for a blanket, and stared at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts swirling through his mind. He thought about Maya, about her unexpected call, about the frantic search, and about the overwhelming relief he felt when he finally found her.

He fell asleep on the couch, the city sounds filtering in through the window, a silent guardian watching over Maya, unaware that his quiet act of care was planting the seeds.