About Last Night by Courtney McEunn

Courtney McEunn was born in Interlachen, Florida and raised in Lawton, Oklahoma. She received her BA in English at Cameron University and is currently a first year MFA Creative Writing (fiction) candidate at Oklahoma State University. Her work has previously been published in The Gold Mine and The Cameron Collegian Newspaper.

About Last Night

“So... how’s the steak?”

This is the sixth generic question he’s asked me since we’ve sat down for dinner.

For the past three weeks, he’s been blowing up my phone, begging me to go on a date

with him. I’ve been trying to avoid him, hoping he would take a hint and give up.

He hasn’t.

“Just give him a chance. How bad could it be?” My roommate’s voice played in my head.

Yeah, how bad could it be?

As bad as this, apparently. How is the wine? How was the appetizer? Is it cold in here to

you? The questions kept coming, and not one was intelligent or worthy enough for further

conversation.

At one point I got up to use the restroom, which was actually a ploy to call my roommate

and beg her to save me.

“Samantha,” she sighed my name over the phone. “It’s been almost two years. You have

to start putting yourself out there. You gotta give it a shot.”

She sounded sorry for me, as if it were my fault this man is talking to me as if he’s never

spoken to a woman in his life.

“Fine,” I told her. “I’ll keep trying.”

“Atta girl!” She hung up.

I walked back to our table to see that our main course had arrived.

“Did you have a good bathroom break?” He asked as I sat down in my seat.

I wanted to punch him in the face. But instead, I forced a smile and said yes.

As we ate out meal, I tried to spark a more meaningful conversation. I asked him what he

does (he’s a full-time student with a trust fund—go figure), if he had a job (of course not), what

is he studying (surprise! It was business) what he does in his spare time (golf) and is he a cat or a

dog person.

“We didn’t have any pets growing up,” he answered in between bites of his chicken

alfredo. “My friends did, though. I found myself liking cats more. I’ve actually been thinking

about adopting one of my own.”

His answer saved the date. I told him about my two cats, one black and one grey, both

adopted from the local animal shelter. He surprisingly asked a lot of questions about them. He

wanted to know what it was like to take care of them, what they did around the house, if they

were mean or nice. We talked about my two babies up until the waiter came back with the check.

My date gave the man his credit card without even glancing at the bill.

“I can cover the tip,” I offered, reaching for my purse.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, flashing his pearly white teeth. “So, what do you have

going on after this?”

I knew where this was headed.

“Not sure yet,” I replied, honestly. “Excuse me, I have to use the restroom before we

leave.”

I ran to that bathroom and called my roommate.

“Katy,” I explained the situation. “What do I do?! I told you I should’ve drove myself.

He probably thinks I’m going to go home with him.”

“Then go home with him!” She screamed back at me. “Like I said before, Sam. It’s been

too long. Go enjoy yourself!”

I could hear her boyfriend chuckling in the background.

“Yeah, Sam!” He called from wherever he was in the house. I guess I was on speaker

phone. “You better not come back here tonight.”

Katy giggled. “You’ll be fine! I’ve heard a lot about him; he’s a lot better in the bedroom

than most. You deserve it!”

“Plus,” she continued, “I have your location and you can call if you need rescuing. You’ll

be completely safe.”

I sighed. “Okay, fine. Fine!”

She started cheering and I hung up. When I got back to the table, my date still had that

stupid grin on his face.

“Did you have a good break?” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

*

His apartment was ten minutes from the restaurant. He played smooth jazz the whole

ride, which made me laugh.

His apartment complex was one of the nicer ones in town. He parked in the attached

parking garage and hurried to open my door for me. At least he was a gentleman. It didn’t make

me feel as gross about our unspoken plans.

As we took the elevator to his floor, he talked to me about his classes. He was saying

something about how shitty the professor was because he got a C on his paper or something. I

wasn’t really listening.

Each beep of the elevator echoed in my pounding heart, getting wilder the higher we

rose. What am I doing? I thought. This wasn’t me. I didn’t go out with men, nor would I let them

take me home on the first date. I started to second guess my decision when the elevator finally

stopped on floor 7.

Too late now, I thought. He led me down the hall to his room, 714, quickly unlocked the

door and ushered me in.

“My roommates are gone for the weekend,” he told me. “Sorry for the mess, though.”

There was crap everywhere. Open chip and snack bags were littered all over the living

room, empty beer cans were crushed and dumped on the floor, and it looked as if nobody every

took a mop to the hardwood floors.

“I swear it’s their mess,” he quickly defended himself, hands raised in innocence. “When

I moved in, I told them I refused to clean up after grown men. I would never treat my house as a

trashcan, but I won’t be their maid.”

Understandable.

I was inclined to not believe him until we got to his bedroom, which was spotless. First

off, the bed was huge. A king, I’m assuming. The bed was made and had four pillows laying on

top. Four pillows!

There was also a corner desk that was neat and tidy with a stack of documents and

textbooks placed carefully on top. He had a giant TV mounted on the wall in front of the bed

with a dresser placed below it.

“I almost didn’t believe you about the mess,” I told him candidly.

He huffed a laugh and came closer to me.

It wasn’t until he laid me down on the giant bed that smelled of lavender that I realized I

didn’t remember his name. I tried to recall his profile from the dating app we connected on, but I

came up blank.

Oh well.

*

The next morning, I jolted awake to what sounded like the front door slamming shut. I

was startled for a second, trying to remember where I was. When the memories of last night’s

date—and other stuff—came back to me, I swelled with a bit of pride. I finally did it. After

almost two years, I finally let myself relax and have a good time. While the events of last night

weren’t too satisfying, I was proud I took the leap. I carefully climbed out of bed to find my

clothes and dress myself. My phone was still in my jeans and was flooded with a million texts

from Katy.

Katy

SAMANTHA!!!

CODE RED CODE RED

YOU ARE NOT WITH JUSTIN!

He just posted a picture at a bar in Seattle with his friends

Did you not look at his pictures before the date?!

Hello???

Sam, please answer!

My heart dropped to the floor. There were more texts and missed calls from her, but they

all sounded the same. I slowly turned and looked at the man in the bed. Then I looked back at

Justin’s profile pictures. They looked similar. I was confused on what was going on.

Then, the bedroom doorknob jiggled. It was locked, but someone was trying to get in.

“Hey!” The voice called on the other side. “Jacob, are you in there?!”

Jacob? My heart was pounding, and I thought I was going to throw up. Who the hell did I

go out with last night?

I heard a key slip through the lock and a second later the door swung open. The real

Justin stood in the entryway, frozen and starting right at me. I was standing by the edge of the

bed, holding my breath. The two men—Justin and Jacob—did look alike. Brothers probably.

“Who the hell are you?” Justin asked.

“I-” I couldn’t think of how to explain myself.

“Why are you in my room?” He was yelling at me, as if I was supposed to know what

was going on.

Jacob stirred. When he rolled over and saw Justin, he jumped up.

“Justin! I mean, er-” He tried to catch himself, as if I hadn’t figured out he wasn’t the real

Justin.

“Someone please tell me what the hell is going on!” I finally shouted. I needed to go.

“Samantha, let me explain,” Jacob sloppily climbed out of bed, tripping over himself as

he searched for his clothes while covering his junk.

I took that as my chance to run. I grabbed my purse and phone, slipped around Justin, and

hurried to the front door.

“Sam!” Jacob called after me.

I made it to the hall and ran towards the elevator. He caught up to me before I could even

press the “down” button.

“Please, let me explain. I’m sorry,” he started rambling. “Justin is my twin brother. He’s

got his life together, you know. I knew you’d like him better than me. He was supposed to be

gone all weekend; I didn’t know.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

I laughed in his face. I couldn’t help it. The first time in years I let myself go out with a

guy, this is what happened. I should’ve known.

I kept laughing, bending over to try and catch my breath. He looked both concerned and a

bit relieved, as if my laughter meant that this whole thing was okay.

“So... are you good? I’m so sorry.”

“You,” I said between my laughter, “are insane.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I quickly got in and repeatedly pressed the

button for the first floor.

As the doors closed between us, he looked into my eyes and said, “did you have a good

time, at least.”