Chapter 2 Eighteen #2
Flick obliges before I can. "Toni's diary: Entry 1,000,005: I love cock. I love myself. Good day, sir. I said good day!"
As laughter erupts from me, I grip my stomach. We all crack up.
Toni beams. "That sounds just like me!"
My face begins to tingle. "Come on, I need to dance before I get too tingly."
A lot of alcohol passes my lips over the next few hours and even more strangers wish me, 'Happy birthday.' I'm surprised at how smooth and velvety a Flatliner becomes after a while.
My birthday party quickly becomes a mirage of smiling faces, cuddles, and alcoholic beverages.
It's not until I stumble away to get a moment of quiet and my feet cross in an awkward manner, sending me to the ground, that I realise just how drunk I am.
I pull myself up and brush my legs clean.
I vaguely remember someone telling me I'm wasted... just a few minutes ago. I can’t remember who.
Pressing my back against the outside wall of my house, I relax.
This is the first moment of silence I've had since before my performance started this afternoon.
Down the side of the house, in the direction I've just stumbled from, I can see the flicker of multicoloured lights.
I can still hear the music, but it's more bass than drum from this distance.
Several stragglers are sitting on the grass a little further from the building, but I'm all alone over here.
The cool air surrounds me, making me shiver.
I wrap my arms around my waist. It's nice to get a breather. Gather my thoughts...
I try to focus on objects ahead of me, but they're all circled in a ring of haze.
I'm squinting at what I'm pretty sure is a dog when an aggressive female voice draws my attention towards the front of my house.
Curious, I navigate my way along the edge of the render in order to get a better position.
I stop walking when I see a guy and a girl arguing near the turning circle. A red sports car idles nearby.
"Frick." I cover my mouth and press my back into the wall.
Although a bush conceals me, I have to peer around it to see the commotion.
I should just leave. But I hesitate when I hear her tone and I find myself leaning around the shrubbery to watch them.
He has his back to me. She is seriously angry.
Thrusting her hands around, she yells at him.
Her face is tight and twisted in anger. Her lips are a red line of aggression that moves and snarls.
The guy is all cool and calm, and oh my God, I think that's Max. Leaning a little closer, my foot kicks a rock and it rolls out from behind the wall.
Oh, frick!
My breath gets lodged in my throat, and I straighten out of view.
I breathe for a few minutes and then hear the red-lipped woman say something like, 'Look at me' or 'So you're not even going to look at me' or something like that.
After a few seconds, I peer back around and watch as she pokes him in the chest.
Woah.
I should walk away. This is none of my business. I will my feet to move, but they don't, and when she slaps him, I cover my mouth to smother a gasp. She'd slapped him so hard, but his head barely moved. And now there is no way I can look anywhere but at them.
My head is swimming, and it's both a result of what I'm witnessing and the unmeasurable amount of Flatliners I've ingested tonight. I feel my brows tighten with shock because this is embarrassingly the most scandalous situation I've ever been a part of—well, not really a part of, but have seen.
Max... It's hard to believe he'd just stand there and take it. It's also hard to believe that any girl would treat him like that... No, that's not true. I'm sure lots of girls hate him. Frick, I'd even like the opportunity to hate him for the same reason they do.
The royally peeved woman growls and then stumbles on her stiletto.
Her ankle flops to the side momentarily.
Max pulls something out of his back pocket and hands it to her.
She slaps him again, but this time his head turns ever so slightly.
He doesn’t retaliate. He barely says a word.
After putting the mystery item in her bag, she stumbles to the red car, gets in, and drives off. Max still hasn’t moved.
He waits until her car disappears out of sight before shoving his hands into his pockets and turning around, walking... Straight. Toward. Me.
Frick.
I spin around and rush away, but to my absolute mortification, I trip and land on my knees, my palms slapping the pavers.
Defeated, drunk, perhaps a little mentally slow, I roll onto my bum and lean against the outside render.
I sigh and stare straight ahead as the sound of his feet gets closer to me and then stops.
I'm now staring at the hem of jeans and dark shoes.
"You look a little out of place," I hear a deep voice say, and it's the first time Max Butcher has ever spoken to me. His voice is clear, confident, and articulate, yet with a gravelly aftershock that does things to my breathing.
I clear my throat. "It's funny."
"What's funny?"
"I was going to say, 'It's funny you say that because', but then couldn’t be bothered finishing that sentence."
My head is heavy, but I manage to arch my neck and look up at him through my lashes. I sigh, my drunken vision distorting his face at this distance and creating a fuzzy fisheye around him. "Hi, Max."
"Do I know you?"
"You're so tall," I whine.
He's suddenly squatting next to me, a grin playing on his lips. "Better?"
Gazing into his eyes, I feel as though he's looking inside me.
Through skin. Through muscle. Into me. He studies me unapologetically as if it's his right and my privilege.
Everyone says that all The Butcher Boys have blue eyes, but his are so much more than just blue.
They are a stormy ocean, hinting at the powerful chaos beneath their blue-grey depths.
Ugh... He's perfect.
He must be a witch. Or like, the male version... a warlock?
I smile and feel my eyelids get heavier. "Yeah. And no, I don't know you. I mean, you don't know me."
He's still grinning, his lips a provocative slash across his face. "Okay."
I look down at my legs stretched out in front of me and then at him. He's still there, nailing me with his stare. "Oh my gawd. You're too hot, Max. Seriously, just stop it."
I can't believe I've just said that.
His grin gets wider, becoming slightly crooked and naturally cocky in nature. He has a single dimple on his left cheek. Of course, he does. I want to poke it. I'm going to poke it.
Do not poke it!
His mouth moves and I'm fixated on that dimple. "I'll work on that for you," he says.
"Good." I nod. "Go get fat or something."
He chuckles a little and it's my new favourite sound. White teeth flash at me for a moment, and they're straight and perfect. My eyes go back to his dimple.
Do not poke it.
Swallowing down the knot in my throat, I say, "You're probably wondering why I'm on the ground, right?"
He studies me, eyes shifting around my face for a moment. I can feel them everywhere, their path from my eyes to my lips palpable, and I'm pretty sure I'm now panting.
"You fell," he says, amusement in his voice.
"Right." I giggle nervously. "So, you're not so much wondering as... Not wondering. Because you know."
Oh my gawd, Cassidy. Shut up.
I'm not sure what he thinks is so funny, but he's still grinning, his eyes fixed on me.
Thick silence settles between us, charging everything within a kilometre radius.
Maybe further. The moon looks extra bright.
That might be because of us. Because of what I just witnessed and the fact that he knows that I witnessed it, and his proximity to me and his annoying level of perfection that isn't annoying at all, and of course, me—goofy me—on the ground, unable to stand without wobbling. That's a lot of charge.
He holds his hand out, and I just stare at it. "Need some help?"
I take a deep breath. Placing one hand in his big palm and the other against the ground, I push myself up as he helps stabilise me.
When my legs attempt to take my weight and balance, I stumble.
His hands catch my waist and, frick, I'm so aware of them on me right now.
Warm. Strong. I look down at them, blinking in confusion as the two hands gripping my middle become four.
Standing up quickly was not a good idea.
My legs are already giving out again, knees buckling, and it's not me that's wobbly but the room.
I'm not in a room. The planet? Yep, the planet just tilted, and now my feet are no longer on the floor because Max has me cradled against his chest. Attempting to focus, I blink a few times, but my vision has disappeared.
My head rolls onto his shoulder. And when I let my eyes close, they don't open again.
A tide of darkness sweeps me out, taking me away from the conscious world.
I like it here.