Saving Grace

I stared at myself in the mirror, the sound of music pumping through the closed bathroom door only amplifying my headache. It was bad enough that I was sick, much less out and about.

Nick was somewhere in the unfamiliar house being the social butterfly he was and here I stood, his girlfriend of two years, in someone's bathroom ill, tired, and desperately wanting to go home.

I sniffled a little, the cough medicine that I had taken hours ago finally starting to wear off.

My reflection was pale. It was most of the time but now my complexion looked sickly- a shade to match the squeaky clean tiles that lined the bathroom floor. My nose was starting to turn a light shade of pink from as the effects of my cold starting to reappear.

A desperate knock sounded against the wooden barrier, echoing through the small confine I was in. Quickly, I picked up my clutch from the marble counter top and made my way over to door. I clicked the lock back and grasped the silver-painted door knob.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I shot an apologetic smile toward the small line of women starting to form before descending the stairs, searching the crowd for signs of my red-headed boyfriend. I frowned when I saw no sign of him.

He seemed to have evaporated in the heat of the dance crowd.

Frustrated, upset and slightly agitated by Nick and his broken promise that he would stay by me all night, I walked through the crowd, lightly shoving people out of my way as I searched for an exit.

Just as I spotted the front door, a rough hand lightly gripped my wrist. I turned and ripped my hand away before realizing exactly who had stopped me. "Amelia, I didn't think you were coming," he said. It neither sounded like he didn't want me there nor did it sound like he was concerned; it was simply a statement.

John O'Callaghan was my sometimes obnoxious boyfriend's best friend and he was unlike any other guy I knew. He was more timid than the boys I was use to associating with, he had a temper similar to that of lazy lap dog and he was a constant analyzer.

I couldn't judge him on the latter; I was like him too in that way only ten times worse. He was more of a deep-thinker than an analyzer when in comparison with me.

"Yeah, I didn't plan on it," I said, carefully rubbing my eye out of exhaustion, trying my hardest not to smudge my make-up.

"Are you okay?" John asked, his brow furrowing lightly, his hand reaching out and grasping my upper arm lightly as if to steady me.

I puffed out a quiet breath. "Yeah, I-I." I stopped myself from stuttering. It was a bad habit of mine, an annoying one too. "Have you seen Nicholas?" I asked after composing my thoughts and forcing myself to slow my speech.

John studied me for a moment before answering. "No, I haven't," he admitted before pulling his green eyes away from me and scanning the crowd in search of the boy who was now missing-in-action. John's height gave him an advantage over my five feet, three inches in the quest.

I sighed dejectedly when his eyes turned back to mine apologetically. Tilting my muddy brown orbs down to my blood-red painted fingernails, I shook my head and pulled away from John's light grasp on my arm before making my way to the open door.

I was halfway to the sidewalk when that familiar voice called out my name. I stopped, trying not to break down as I stood in the middle of a littered yard. I was acting like a baby but I was tired, worried about my relationship with Nick and, furthermore, frustrated. Slowly, trying with all my might to blink back the tears starting to fill my eyes, I turned to see John looking worriedly from the wrap-around porch that protruded from the large, white Victorian home that looked completely and utterly wrong to have a house party in. "Where are you going, Lia?"

"Home."

"Did Nick drive you?"

I looked to my pumps, nodding idiotically.

"You're walking all the way back?" John asked skeptically.

I nodded once again, chewing on the inside of my lip nervously. He was thinking I was insane, I knew it.

I glanced up when I heard the jingle of metal clinking against metal to see John walking toward me, pulling his keys from his jeans pockets as he neared. "I'll give you a ride back," he said, not sounding surprised or even moderately upset.

Normally, I would have argued with him but after knowing John for god only knows how long, I realized that it was a waste to even attempt arguing with the boy. He was arrogant when he wanted to be and when his mind was set on something he wasn't going to give in. I followed him down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete and the fading music from the house reverberated through the dead neighborhood.

Easily, I slid into the passenger seat of John's rental car. The interior of the new vehicle didn't even look like it would be returned in a matter of days. Several CDs littered the backseat and the floor by my feet. He was unusual in that way too: instead of just going onto iTunes to get his music, he bought the hard copies.

"Are you okay Amelia?" John asked, suddenly.

I glanced over to him and nodded though I knew that he could see through that simple lie. "I'm fine," I replied.

There was a moment of silence. "Um, Lia? I need directions..."

"Oh." That should have been obvious. He was only visiting Massachusetts for a little while and his previous visits had never been long enough for him to get to know the streets of Braintree. "Just keep going straight. I'll tell you where to turn when we get closer." There was a comfortable silence between us but I broke it. "I-I." I stopped a sucked in a short breath before continuing. "I'm sorry I took you away from the party..." I stated calmly.

His lips tugged upward a little but he didn't pull his eyes from the road. "It's okay."

"You weren't having fun?"

"No, I was. The question should be why weren't you having fun?"

I puffed out a breath, the soft, delicate sound of Death Cab For Cutie spilling from the car speakers. "It's not my kind of scene," I stated simply. It wasn't a lie. I didn't fit in at parties; I hated the feeling of alcohol in my system and I wasn't one to dance, having two left feet.

John smiled at my words but said nothing at first. "It's not mine either," he spoke softly.

I blinked at him. "How can it not be your scene? You are a musician... Don't they always party?"

"Some, but eventually everything starts repeating. It gets rather boring after a while," John stated.

I just nodded before telling him to make a right turn at the next intersection. From there on, the car ride was quiet with the exception of "Tiny Vessels" playing weakly over the stereo system. John had come to the house Nick and I shared often enough to find his own way onto our street after my basic directions.

After John pulled into the small driveway and put the vehicle in park, I turned to the boy sitting behind the wheel. "Thanks for the ride home, John," I said softly.

"No problem. I'll text Nick and let him know that I dropped you off," he said with a faint smile gracing his lips.

Nodding, I opened the door and stepped out of the car that he was temporarily using. I shot him a small, appreciative smile before climbing the sloping driveway to the quaint house I shared.

As I waited for sleep to bring me some relief, my mind wandered to Nick. I hoped that my fears of the two of us growing apart where nothing but a figment of my sometimes over-active imagination.

He was always ready to go to a social event when it would pop up and I- well, I was the same girl I had been since he and I became a couple two years previous: shy, quiet and socially awkward. It didn't take a genius to know that we, unfortunately, were starting to part from each other.

And I loathed the feeling.