Three Too Many

I was silent on the way back to the hotel, lost in the storm of thoughts that was raging in my head. The guys were both still super pumped from the concert, and I knew that they could tell something was wrong with me, but I didn’t feel like explaining to them why I was so down. They wouldn’t have understood anyways. How could I have even put it into words properly without sounding absolutely insane?

“You sure that you’re okay?” James asked. “You look like you had a horrible time or something.”

“I’m fine,” I said, staring into the blur of city lights.

He shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Man, you’re lucky as hell, Jessica looked our way the entire time, and yet you’re here all sad and shit.”

“Yeah, Tiffany barely looked at me—but man, she was so hot in person!” Jake said excitedly, almost hopping down the street.

“Taeyeon got pretty close to me during the finale though, remember?”

“To you?”

“Yeah, to me!”

“Just you.”

“Yeah.”

“Not the crowd of people in between you and the edge of the stage?”

“Dude, I swear I was able to smell her perfume from where I was.”

Jake just looked at him, unimpressed.

“Anyways, John, we definitely gotta go again next year! And maybe actually line up so we could be at the very front next time.”

Next year, I thought. There’s always next year. That is, if they even decide to come back to New York. But with her busy life, would she even remember me out of all the people she’s met? Why would she? She has no reason to, I’m just one out of the thousands of people that went to the concert.

Jake and James both decided to go bar hopping again, but I declined. I felt bad that I was ruining the weekend for them, but I wasn’t in the mood for anything. If anything, I would’ve ruined the night for them if I tagged along. For whatever reason, I just felt so heartbroken. Heartbroken by an international celebrity who barely knew me. It was as ridiculous as it sounded.

After trying to convince me for about 30 minutes, they finally gave up and left me alone in the hotel room. I ended up lying in bed, moping around for about an hour or so, watching the fan trace the ceiling in circles as I replayed everything in my head over and over.

From the embarrassing moment at Starbucks, to the vending machines, to the restaurant, all the way to the concert itself. Was it actually all real or just made up in my head?

It was midnight by the time I checked my phone, and her face on my lock screen made it all even worse for me. I couldn’t believe that everything happened the way it did, and furthermore, I couldn’t believe that it somehow ended up making me feel like someone who just got dumped.

What the hell is wrong with me? This isn’t normal. It’s not normal to feel like this. I seriously need to get it together.

I decided to go back to the top floor, to the lounge where we saw each other instead of staying inside the hotel room all night. Deep inside, I knew that it wasn’t the best idea since it would have had the opposite effect of taking my mind off of her, but maybe I didn’t want to yet. Maybe I just wasn’t ready. Maybe I just needed to feel all I needed to feel before I could let it go. Or maybe I’d see her at the fan meet the next day and everything would be better. Just maybe.

For the next hour, I sat by myself on the chairs in front of the vending machines. Being there in that very spot was like watching a replay of my past in third person. I visualized our bodies as we stood next to each other, remembering the exact expression on her face as I handed her the bottle. I could never forget how she looked; it was one of the most adorable things I’d ever seen in my life. Then I watched myself walk away, and turning back when she asked me for my name. Everything was like a movie.

Like a movie, I thought. That’s right, movies aren’t real. They’re fictional. And they have endings. Just like how our story was coming to an end.

After making it to the post-show credits a hundred times, I finally dragged myself back to the hotel room and jumped on the bed, rolling back and forth, trying to get myself to snap out of it.

Why am I so sad? Why am I so disappointed? I should be happy. I met her. Not even once, but three times. And she remembered who I was at the concert. How many people get to say that? How many people would have even dreamt of that happening? Why am I not happy about it? Why do I want more? What is more, though? More of what? What do I even want?

After a lot of tossing, turning, and groaning, I grew thirsty, only to find out that there wasn’t any water in the hotel room, so I decided to go back up to the vending machines again.

I can’t believe I sat up there for an hour and didn’t think to get anything. This girl has me completely messed up and all we said to each other was our names.

As I stood in the elevator, my mind went back and forth, debating whether or not I even wanted to go all the way back up 50-something floors for a drink when I could have just ordered room service.

Maybe I’m not even actually thirsty. Maybe I’m just coming up with any possible excuse to go back up there so I could sit and loathe some more. When did I become so good at self torture?

When the elevator doors opened, I walked down the hall and turned the corner, and to my surprise, there was a girl sitting on one of the chairs with her back against me. All I could see was her long brown hair, and that she was on her phone, alone.

Why would anyone be up here at this hour? Oh, maybe she also fell in love with someone at the concert and now she’s here mourning the death of her hopes and dreams, like me.

Just then, she turned around, and it wasn’t who I expected it to be. Not at all.

It was Jessica.

She looked back at me with her mouth slightly open in surprise, and I got so lightheaded that I thought I was going to faint.

This can’t be real, right? There’s no way. How is this possible? It can’t be. Things like this literally don’t happen in real life. Or is this a prank? Am I being pranked? Are the cameras—

“John,” she said, in a soft, delicate voice.

“H-hey,” I said, shocked that I could even speak.

Seriously? Is this really Jessica? And she actually remembers my name? No, this has to be a dream. I’m going to wake up any minute now.

My mind went completely blank. We both looked at each other without saying a word. It was like time had frozen still. My heart was fluttering like crazy; it felt like I was staring at my lover from another life. But she was far from it. She was a celebrity, someone I had adored for years, and no matter what, I was still only just a stranger to her in the end.

“What are you doing here by yourself?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.

She put her phone down and turned her body around. “Me? Oh, I just wanted to be alone.”

“Oh—s-sorry, I’ll leave then.”

“No—don’t—I mean—you don’t have to.”

“But you said…”

“Sorry, I meant—I wanted to be alone. But not right now.” She suddenly stopped talking and shut her eyes, like she was embarrassed and didn’t know what she was saying.

What does that even mean?

“So...I can stay?”

“Yes—please,” she said, her eyes still closed. “I mean—not please—but if you want...you can. I meant like, please...feel free...to not leave...if that’s not something you want to do...”

“Okay…” I hesitantly walked closer.

Is she drunk? Why is she stumbling her words so much? Is that why she’s here by herself? To hide from everyone because she drank?