Only it wasn’t a zoomed-in closeup of my friend. It was the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. The light brown was mixed with green and a bronzy gold.
Wow.
Without thought, I snapped a picture. I wasn’t sure why. She was clearly an illusion caused by mixing coke with too much liquor. The clicking shutter echoed in the heavy silence.
“Did you just take a picture of me?” my hallucination asked in a sultry voice.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I didn’t owe my delusions an answer, so I rotated the lens to zoom out.
Fucking.
Wow.
It made sense that her eyes were mesmerizingly beautiful because so was the rest of her. Her sparkly black dress showed off her toned legs and tanned skin. Most of her light brown hair was pulled back, but some pieces framed her stunning face.
Men had it easier than women in… Well, in all fucking aspects, but especially with appearance. Online comments and gossipblogs loved analyzing every bad picture of me, and even still, women got it far worse. With all that criticism, I had nothing against the shit people did to their faces and bodies to look the way they wanted. Botox. Filler. Lifts. All that was their own business.
But other than some makeup, the woman on the roof didn’t seem to have any of that—or it was just quality work. Either way, she was beautiful.
Fucking evil of my shitty brain to present me with perfection that’s not real, but I guess I had it coming for doing my best to kill its cells.
Maybe if I promise to stop trying to ferment it with whiskey, it’ll ditch the dress and make my hallucination naked.
I settled for taking a photo of what was likely nothing but empty space.
“Did you just takeanotherpicture?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“Yes,” I repeated as I pressed the shutter button in time to catch her glare.
Disapproving scowl?
My subconscious isn’t playing it subtle.
CHAPTER TWO
SPEAKING OF THE B-LISTERS BASH… RUMOR HAS IT, THERE WAS SOME DRAMA TOWARD THE END. MAYBE THE OPEN BAR WASN’T A GOOD IDEA…
TRIPP
Ilowered the camera, halfexpecting the woman to disappear. Thankfully, she didn’t.
“Sorry for interrupting. I was trying not to startle you.” She glanced toward the ledge I sat on before taking a hesitant step closer. “Any chance I can convince you to come stand over here?”
“Baby, you can convince me to do just about any-damn-thing,” I drawled.
And slurred.
Mostly slurred.
Shit.
It made no sense since my imbibing was the reason I could see her, but I suddenly regretted everything I’d drank and snorted. I didn’t want to sound like a drunken loser.
Not that it would’ve made a difference. For the first time I could remember, a woman wasn’t charmed by bullshit.
