2.

"We are leaving you!" My mom calls from the front room of the suite we are staying in.

"I'm coming!" I shout back over the song blasting through my speakers while I straighten my hair in the hotel's huge bathroom mirror.

We have dinner reservations at 8:00 and it is now 7:35.

If I was better at managing my time, I'd have started getting ready over an hour ago. I am fully aware that I can not get fully ready in less than 30 minutes when I hustle, yet I always manage to convince myself every time that I can go faster.

One more chapter, one more episode, five more minutes of sleep, just reply to a few more messages, watch a couple more videos...on and on until I've screwed my self out of all of the extra time I was allowing myself and then am left with less time to do whatever needs to be done with even less time than it takes me on a regular non rushed day.

"We aren't kidding!" My dad calls back. "If you aren't out here in three minutes we will go and we will not bring you leftovers."

"That's cruel and unusual punishment!" I shout back. "I don't like your threats today!"

"Then hurry up!" Mom calls.

Jesus, like I'm not trying.

I can't make my hair straight faster than I already am. I'm sure the back of my head is all wavy and stupid looking.

"The back of my head is none of my business." I say to myself, pointing the hairbrush at my reflection in the mirror.

I finish my hair, throwing the straightener and the brush all back into the drawer and look at myself again.

"You're killing me, kid." I whisper.

I still need to brush my teeth, do my eye makeup, and let's not forget the fact I'm still standing here in a oversized tshirt I'd taken a nap in earlier.

"Hayden Marie Maxwell, if you are not in this room in 60 seconds you aren't going!" Mom calls again, pulling out the big guns with the full government name to let me know she means business.

I run into the adjoining bedroom and flip open my suitcase, digging through it to find anything that isn't a monstrosity of wrinkles.

If I'd been smart and unpacked when we got here, I wouldn't have this problem. Instead, I've been living out of the suitcase all week. I seriously did consider doing it yesterday, but we leave tomorrow so what was really the point?

"We are going to the car!" Dad calls. "For the love of god, Hayden, please hurry up!"

"I'll be right down!" I call back, snagging the only dress I have left that I haven't worn.

I strip in the bathroom and throw it on as I hear the front door of the suite close.

I rush to finish up.

I know damn well their threats aren't empty. They left me and my sister at a grocery store one time when we wouldn't come out of the magazine section when they told us to. They went all the way home and put away the groceries before they came back to pick us up.

We'd been convinced we would have to start working in the store to earn our keep since we were now homeless.

After that we always came when called or told it was time to leave.

I do the best I can with the rest of my makeup. My eyeliner doesn't look even and my eyebrows aren't sisters or cousins or even showing up at the same family reunion at this point but it's the best I've got.

I brush my teeth, singing happy birthday in my head while wondering if it's happy birthday for brushing your teeth or your ABCs. Just for safety, I sing both.

I run back to the bedroom to put on my shoes and then I send a text to my mom that I'm coming.

I rush out of the suite and down the long hallway that oddly smells like overly scented perfume and musk all at the same time.

I get to the elevators and press the down button, shuffling my feet while I listen to the dings as the elevator ticks up the floors.

I glance to my right, and that's when I notice him.

Because I am entirely human, the first reaction is to laugh.

Up the hall in front of the door to the stairs is a guy laying on the ground. He's on his stomach, his arms folded around what looks like a jacket he's currently using as a pillow and his legs are crossed at the ankles, both of his shoes untied.

I check the time.

It's only 7:45.

It's a bit early to be that level of drunk to fall asleep in a hallway, but then again, who am I to judge?

I watch, squinting my eyes to make sure he is in fact asleep and not dead. His shoulders move slightly as he breathes and I sigh in relief.

The elevator dings and the doors open in front of me. I take a half step forward, then back, then forward again. I know I look like a Sims character who can't figure out how to move.

The right thing to do would be to check on him. That would make me a decent human being, wouldn't it?

I mean, if I was the one passed out in public all alone, I'd hope that someone would step in to try to help.

But I'm already late.

I stare at the elevator doors as they slide closed in front of me again.

"Fuck for being a good person." I whisper under my breath and pull out my phone.

I text my parents to go ahead and I'll drive my car to meet them at the restaurant later. They won't be happy about it but they'd be happier that I drive myself rather than to miss dinner all together.

Mom sends me back the ever annoyed "K" message and I stalk up the hallway, the reluctant hero.

When I get closer I realize the dude isn't even wearing pants.

He's just sprawled out, having the snooze of his life in his boxers.

I crouch down next to him and reach out to poke him with an index finger. I jerk back sharply, expecting him to jump or react but he just snores a little.

"Hey." I try the poking approach one more time with no luck again. "Bro." I shake his shoulder and I duck to barely dodge the arm he sends flying out in my direction. "Chill ninja warrior." I fall back on my butt next to him as he sits up, looking around confused.

"When the heck did we leave?" he asks, his eyebrows tightly knitted over his brown eyes.

"That is a good question." I nod at him, pushing myself back up to my feet looking down at him. "The better question would be why are you asleep in the hall?"

At this he sits up even higher, looking left and right like he's just now taking in the fact that he is actually in a hallway.

"Where's Jeb?" He asks and I shrug my shoulders.

"Your guess is probably better than mine since I don't know who that even is."

"Fuck." He drops his head into his hands and groans. But then he starts laughing...hysterically. "Bro, I'm in the hallway."

"Bro," I smile. "I know."

He looks up at me and flashes me a side ways highly drunk smile. His eyes are barely staying open but I can't deny the fact that he's pretty cute.

In a drunk hallway stranger type of way.

"What day is it even?" he asks me, trying to look serious.

"Uh, Saturday."

"Oh good." He smiles again, like a big dumb puppy. I can't help but laugh at him again.

"Do you know where your room is?" I ask and he stands up with surprising agility.

He holds his hand up above his eyes looking up and down the hallway. "Well, ma'am, that would be a no." He drops his hand to smile at me. "Do you?" He stumbles forward a little, and I have to put my hands on him to steady him. "Hey." He says, laying his head on my shoulder.

"Yeah, hi." I push him back a little, keeping a hand on his arm to make sure he doesn't tumble over.

"I'm not wearing any pants." He starts laughing again. "Like, where even are they?"

A door up the hallway opens and a woman sticks her head out to look at us. She gives a little stare of annoyance before slamming the door and going back into her hotel room.

"Let's find your room." I tug him up the hall and he decides to skip ahead of me towards the elevator singing an Eminem song getting most of the lyrics completely wrong.

He presses both the up and down buttons and I sigh into my hand. What have I gotten myself into?

He stumbles into the elevator, crashing into the back and bracing himself on the gold rail. "Woah, too fast." He says, looking a little green. If this dude barfs on me I am entirely done with good deeds for the rest of my life. "What day is it?" He asks, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Still Saturday." I tell him again, getting on the elevator with him. "Do you know what floor you're supposed to be on?"

"It's high." He mumbles, rubbing a hand through his mess of brown curls. He takes his jacket and stumbles around as he ties it around his waist. "You can see the flag."

So helpful. You can see the flags lined across the beach from just about every room in this resort. All that tells me is it's ocean front.

"Hey," he says, his eyes at half mass. "You're pretty."

I shake my head as I grin. "And you're drunk." I tell him.

He starts laughing again, the deep boisterous sound echoing around the elevator. "Oh yeah." He starts head banging and playing an air guitar. By the sounds he's making along with it, I guess it's electric. "It's my birthday." He informs me, dropping his imaginary guitar.

"Twenty one?" I laugh and he grins from ear to ear with his eyes closed.

"Yes, yes, yes."

"Happy birthday." I laugh. "Too bad you're not going to remember it."

His smile droops a little. "Sometimes I don't want to remember things." He says quietly.

I press a random button on the elevator and nod as it begins to move, having to catch him from falling over again.

"I...feel that." I say, struggling to keep his weight up.

"Yeah." He turns his head away from me and lets out the wettest gurgling burp I've ever heard in my life. "Bro," he turns back to me. "That was like a ten out of ten."

He starts laughing and something about the sound of it makes me laugh too. This whole interaction kind of makes me excited for my twenty first in two years. If I'm not having the straight up time of my life like this dude in his boxers hugging a stranger, I don't want it.

"Did you know...did you know you...you smell good." He says, eyes closed and head tilted back with a smile on his lips. I don't know if that's what he was going to say or he just got distracted but I thank him either way. He doesn't have to know I didn't even shower today.

The elevator doors slide open and I'm startled by the group of guys waiting on the other side.

"Ben!" The first one shouts, throwing his hands up into the air while the guys behind him all cheer loudly.

"I was lost but now I'm found." The guy I'm holding up, apparently Ben, stumbles forward and is enveloped into the group of guys as they all clap him on the back and continue to holler over each other.

"Dude, where are your pants?" One of them is saying.

"We were about to go check the roof!" Another laughs.

The doors of the elevator begin to close again and Ben jumps to be seen through the throngs of his buddies. "Thank you pretty stranger who smells good!" He screams and the others all cheer as the doors slide shut again.

I cannot wait to tell my parents and friends about what just happened. It's not every day you get a story like this one. My friends are going to think it was hilarious and my parents might just forgive me for being late.

They can be proud of me for stopping for a stranger in need.

I give myself a pat on the back and press the button for the lobby.

I exit the elevator feeling good, heading out the front sliding doors into the warm salty air, breathing it in deeply. I'm a little sad we have to leave tomorrow to head back home. Our summers here are always my favorite.

I remind myself we will be back next month and slap the smile back onto my face.

I pull out my phone and keys from my cross body purse and wait for the pedestrian light to come on so that I can cross the street.

I look both ways twice just to be safe. I eye the cars all stoped on either side of the cross walk, making sure they are all paying attention as I cross the street to the parking garage.

My car is parked on the first level and I climb in, getting the playlist I want pulled up and then punching in the name of the restaurant into the gps.

I know how to get there. It's the same place we eat at on our last night every time, but I like to have the robotic voice as background assurance that I'm right about every turn.

The directions pull up on the screen as an Adel song booms through the speakers. I look at the route and curse when I see the section of red lit up indicating heavy traffic two miles up the road.

I'm going to be so late I'll be lucky to get dessert.

I back out of my space and take a back road I know to attempt to miss out on some of the traffic, but of course, everyone else is doing the exact same thing so the cars are all bumper to bumper down the long stretch of highway.

I thrum my fingers over the steering wheel, singing along as I follow behind the line of cars and their glowing red brake lights. The sun is setting and the sky is a mix of oranges and indigo.

I roll down all of the windows and let the breeze fill the car and whip my hair around my face.

I'm right in the middle of belting out the chorus when the music suddenly stops and I'm disgusted at the sound of my own voice that just seconds ago I thought sounded so good with the radio.

I hit decline on the call from an unknown number. I start singing again when a second time the same number pops up.

I'm not answering a call from someone I don't know. I don't even like to call people I do know.

I decline the call again, making my way slowly up the road to the next light.

The speakers let out a little ding of a voicemail notification and I press play on the screen, letting the message play through the car speakers.

"This is the Florida State Police, we are attempting to locate a Miss Hayden Maxwell. There has been an accident-."

I slam on my breaks and I am jolted forward and back and forward and back again as I get rear ended by the lifted truck behind me.

Tires are screeching, people are yelling, but all I can hear is that message.