Waiting

The hallway buzzed with the dull hum of ****-fueled small talk and restlessness. Noah stood stiffly, arms folded, gaze locked on the door like he could see through it if he stared hard enough.

“I'm not cutting,” he muttered to the guy at the front of the line, with the backwards cap, who glanced back every few seconds like Noah was going to pounce him. “I just… wanna see who's in there. When the door opens. Just a peek.”

The guy raised an eyebrow, slow and lazy. “She’s letting in two at a time,” he said, like it was just another party game. “So, if the dude behind me doesn’t mind, you can slide in with me. You know. If both guys come out.”

Noah clenched his jaw. The guy behind him did mind, of course. Some shirtless dude with a vape pen and a disapproving headshake.

“Fuck that. We’ve been waiting,” the shirtless dude muttered.

Noah didn’t argue. He just swallowed the lump growing in his throat and checked his phone again. No reply. His last text read:

babe please say something, I’m looking for you.

His notifications weren’t even read.

Time crawled.

Six minutes.

Seven.

Eight.

The door clicked.

Noah flinched like it was a gunshot. The guy in front straightened up, and did a little half-step forward. The door cracked open. Warm light spilled into the hallway, and a guy stumbled out.

Sweaty. Shirt untucked. A belt dragging from his hand.

The door stayed open.

Just for a few seconds.

But long enough.

Noah’s eyes caught a flash of pale skin, the curve of a bare back, long dark hair stuck to damp shoulders. A girl on her hands and knees on the edge of the bed. Her face was buried in someone else’s lap.

He could see a flash of black knee socks wrapped around her calves.

It looked like her.

It was her.

Noah felt his chest cave in.

Before his brain even caught up, he was already stepping forward, catching the exiting guy by the arm.

“Hey. Hey, man,” Noah said, voice tight and sharp.

The guy turned, blinking like he was still drunk on the last ten minutes.

Noah’s voice dropped. “The girl in there. What’s her name?”

The guy looked confused. Scratched his head. Shrugged.

“I dunno. She didn’t say.”

Noah stared at him, hard.

The guy smiled. “I'd get in line though. The freakin' bubble butt on this girl, and I really mean that shit, and she had thighs to match, with a perfect innie pussy...”

Something in Noah snapped. Not loud. Not violent. Just a quiet, clean crack, like glass breaking just behind his eyes.

He stepped back.

Looked at the door. The hallway. His phone. Still nothing.

Then back at the guy. The smell of sweat and beer stung his nose.

“She have a little silver hoop in her nose?” Noah asked.

The guy blinked. Thought for a second.

“Yeah,” he said. “Actually. Yeah.”