I Let A Drunk Stranger Sleep On My Couch—Then Her Phone Lit Up With My Boss’s Name

Part 2

Stepping into my small bedroom, I firmly closed the door behind me.

Instead of taking the bed, I grabbed a blank page from a notebook.

Five short lines were all I could manage to write.

‘You are safe.’

‘This is my apartment.’

‘I am in the bedroom.’

I signed it simply, ‘Brian.’

Leaving the paper note on the coffee table next to the water and Advil seemed like enough explanation.

Pulling a thin blanket over myself, I stretched out on the cold hardwood floor.

Sleep evaded me for hours as I stared at the ceiling until exhaustion finally took over around three in the morning.

I certainly woke up much earlier than she did.

My own lower back severely ached from sleeping on the floor.

I certainly had slept in my own bedroom because offering her the actual bed seemed far too intimate.

Now, Reclaiming the sofa from her seemed unnecessarily cruel.

The entire hard floor had been the absolute only option left available to me.

Quietly, I brewed myself a cup of black coffee.

A few minutes later, the heavy creak of the old sofa echoed from the living room.

Footsteps shuffled slowly across the floorboards.

A long silence followed, suggesting she had found the note.

Finally, she appeared nervously in the kitchen doorway.

Her knuckles were pale from clutching that torn piece of paper so tightly.

Her blonde hair was still tangled.

Her dark mascara was badly smudged directly beneath her eyes.

Now, One thin strap of her pale blue dress was slipping off her shoulder.

She actually looked exactly like someone desperately trying to piece the last twelve hours together from scattered fragments.

She cautiously whispered my name.

I certainly simply nodded my head.

She asked if I had really brought her to my apartment.

I certainly kept my answer extremely simple.

I told her she could not remember her address.

I explained I had absolutely no other option that felt safe.

I told her I slept on the floor and that absolutely nothing happened.

She was completely quiet for what felt like a full minute.

She then told me that most guys would have just left her alone at the bar.

I just shrugged my shoulders.

I told her that most guys were not me.

She actually quickly called an Uber, gathered her clutch, and left without giving me her name or her number.

I stood quietly at the window and watched her disappear into the back seat.

I certainly honestly figured that was the definitive end of it.

It was just a strange night and a weird story I certainly would never ever tell anyone.

I certainly thought I was entirely done with the situation.

Now, Then Monday morning finally arrived.

Now, Dan nudged me sharply in the hallway outside the busy engineering bay.

He definitely nodded his head toward the wide glass corridor.

He told me the boss’s daughter was in the office today.

I certainly looked right through the glass partition.

Now, There she was, Heather Sullivan.

Now, Her dark blazer was perfectly buttoned.

Now, Her blonde hair was pulled back into an incredibly clean and tight bun.

Now, Her posture was as straight as a wooden ruler.

Now, Her expensive heels were loudly clicking on the polished concrete floor.

She actually was an entirely different person from the broken woman on my sofa.

Her eyes carefully swept the large room.

Her gaze passed directly over the drafting tables and the other engineers.

Now, Her eyes suddenly paused directly on me.

It truly was just for one single beat.

She actually then quickly turned her head and kept walking.

She actually had definitively recognized me.

I recognized the exact moment she deliberately chose not to show it.

Have you ever helped a complete stranger only to realize that person would change your entire life?

If you were in my shoes that night, would you have brought her home, or would you have left her at the bar?