Six #2
I slam my hands against the wheel, closing my eyes.
I only want to have my way with him. That’s all.
He’s some conquest for me like the others, and once I prove I can get whatever I want no matter how long it takes, I’ll lose interest. A nudge in my gut says otherwise, though.
Almost painful. He’ll fuck me and prove he’s no different than anyone else.
Yes, and then I’ll be free of all this confusion and weird obsession.
He was right when he said I thought of him as being beneath me—a loser who’d be lucky to have someone like me so much as look his way. Yet here I am following him, stepping out of my car and walking closer to where he is, pleading on the inside.
Say hi to me. Just fucking say hi to me.
His eyes meet mine, and when I stand in front him, forcing a smile, he spits on the sidewalk beside me before brushing past to walk with his friends into the house.
Shoulders slumping, I look down at the ground, unable to describe the dull ache inside.
What the fuck is happening to me? How embarrassing.
He keeps making me look and feel like a fool.
It would all stop if I could just leave him alone, but my mind is more set on getting to the point where he gives me permission to touch him.
Once I get there, I’ll have control. Yeah, that’s what this is. I like having it . . . At least, I’m used to having it with men like him and in situations like this, even though I’m the follow?the?leader type at other times.
Or do I want to follow all the time? My pulse pounds in my ears. Can’t be. That’s not it. But what if it is? My hand slaps at my head, but the thoughts refuse to subside and all the what ifs remain.
I want to prove to myself that no one is unattainable, and nothing more. “Nothing more,” I accidentally say out loud, gaining me looks from people passing me by. They laugh, approaching the house, and my gaze follows them to the door before I finally move my feet in that direction.
Music is booming in every direction, and Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club” is playing, as people crowd around me with drinks in their hands, dancing and laughing with friends.
Walking further through the living room, I get shoved by a girl not paying attention and beer splashes onto me.
Ignoring the apologies and a voice asking me if I’m okay, I search out those dark brown eyes that silently ordered me to go home not long ago.
I circle the room, taking a red cup from a guy who insists I try his yummy concoction.
Faking a smile, I nod, pretending to sip it as I stroll out the back door where more people are enjoying themselves.
Then I dump the drink into the grass, holding onto the plastic cup until I spot the line for the beer keg.
No way was I going to drink some mysterious drink from a stranger.
I doubt I’ll drink the beer either. Not having anything in my hand makes me feel awkward, though.
“You seem to be everywhere I am today,” a deep voice says. “The first two times may have been coincidences, but I highly doubt this one is.” Hot breath brushes over my ear and I shiver, slowly turning around, forgetting what I’m supposed to be doing.
There they are. Those deep brown irises taking me in. Not like anyone else has but in another way I can’t explain and don’t fully understand.
“Can you prove it?”
“No,” he says, face unreadable and merely inches from mine.
I can taste the vodka on his lips mixed with something sweet.
Before I realize, I’m moving closer to him, tongue darting between my lips.
I plant my feet into the ground to keep from going too far.
His loud silence is enough for me not to continue.
Unspoken words flash in his eyes and stance, and speaking is no longer necessary when it comes to him telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing.
How he pulls it off, I have no clue, but I can’t stop following. Why can’t I?
It all leads back to wanting what I can’t have, doesn’t it? My enjoyment in accepting a challenge when I see it? Has to be. Why would there be another reason? I’ll get what I’m after and then I can put an end to whatever is happening between us. But do I even know what I’m after anymore?
His gaze points down at my cup, one brow lifting. “Why are you carrying around an empty cup?”
I sway the red plastic from side to side. “It wasn’t always empty, and I was about to get in line for some beer.”
“I guess I’ll leave you to it, then. That way you can play the part of being here for a reason other than to follow me around.”
Before I can say anything, he’s already closing in on another group of people. He gives them a “hey,” and “hi,” loud enough for me to hear. He does it all night long, with almost every person he comes across. Everyone but me.