Page 23 of Perfect Chaos

“I recognize it by the way.”

I jump at the sound of Gavin's voice right behind me. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even notice him walk over. “Recognize what?”

He sits at the open barstool next to me and I turn to face him.

“That you smile the brightest when your mind is the darkest.” He sounds like how I feel. Drained. He is scanning my face like he can see everything I’m hiding.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” My eyes dart around the room, looking for Atlas, but he is nowhere to be found. “Have you seen Atlas?” This conversation makes me uncomfortable. I try so hard to mask all the dark chaos inside and it shakes me a bit for Gavin to call me out on it.

“Yeah, he went to the bathroom. Look, I am not trying to pry; all I am saying is I didn’t notice when Atlas was hurting at first. He was always good at pretending to feel nothing. It’s a mask he perfected, and I didn’t see it until he decided to show me the cracks. It’s different with you, though. I recognize myself in you. The smile you force. The way you pretend everything is absolutely fine. I also know what it feels like when no one else seems to notice.” He exhales like he didn’t intend to say all of that. The air between us feels tense, the silence heavy but not awkward like I expected it to be. I honestly feel like he could understand me in a way that Atlas might not. He said he understands what I’m feeling with enough conviction that it’s hard not to believe him. He searches my face as if trying to gauge my reaction before asking the question I was hoping I wouldn’t have to answer. “Does Atlas know?”

“There is nothing to tell, Gavin.”

He pushes my glasses off my eyes, resting them on top of my head before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Damn it. I was hoping I would be able to hide behind them for this conversation.

“Not even you believe that lie, but nice try. Maybe you should try talking to someone.”

I roll my eyes before shooting him a pointed look. “I am not going to pay some professional to tell me that I am mentally unstable. I already fucking know that.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Aren't we all mentally unstable? Plus, I never said it had to be a professional crazy doctor, now did I?”

“Then who?”

“You can always talk to Atlas. He would do anything for you. You have to know that.”

“I can’t…” The words physically hurt coming out. Gavin wouldn’t understand the reason for keeping my turmoil to myself, so what’s the point of trying to explain it?

“Then you can always talk to me.” He says it so quietly that I think I imagined it. He shoots me a sad smile, then walks back over to their booth like the conversation never happened. Leaving me alone at the bar again, to deal with the weight of the conversation we just had. I told myself I wasn’t drinking tonight, but what harm can one drink really do? I glance behind me and see that Atlas is back from the bathroom now. I wave the bartender over, ordering a margarita before trotting my way towards the boys. I need a distraction and I know just the type of game I’m in the mood to play.

I come to a stop directly in front of Atlas, place my margarita down on the table, repeating the conversation that started it all. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Business man? You seem to have a problem keeping your eyes to yourself. Am I too underdressed for you that I’m ruining your night? What’s the deal?”

“Is that the game we are playing tonight, Chaos? Okay. I’ll play.” A depraved smile stretches across his stupidly handsome face. His voice dropping an octave, the vibrations from it hitting me straight to my core. “You’re mistaken, Darling. I didn’t notice you until you were standing in front of me, but since you're already bothering me, you might as well have a seat and make it worth the disruption.”

“What the hell is going on right now?” Gavin looks between the two of us like we are talking nonsense. His eyebrows knit in confusion as he tries to connect the dots.

I place both hands on the table in front of Gavin, leaning in until my lips are inches from his. “Play along, pretty boy, don’t ruin my fun.” I shoot him a wink, turning my attention back to Atlas and his full rocks glass. “Whiskey? May I try it?”

Atlas’ eyes heat at my question the same way they did that first night, the same look that makes my heart race every time. He slides me his glass without a single word. I know what he expects to happen and I will give him that, except right now, I am starving for chaos. I want to see how far I can push him tonight. I lift myself onto the table, sitting on the edge, kicking my feet back and forth while I contemplate my next move. I take a sip of Atlas’ whiskey as the idea falls into place.

“Do you drink whiskey, Gavin?” I’m pretty sure he does, but I still ask it like I don’t already know the answer.

“I do. Why do you ask?” The skepticism is clear in his voice. Can't say that I blame him, though. I would question my motive too at this point.

“Alright, Mr. Business man. You should know what happens next but how about you sit next to pretty boy here and make my job just a bit easier?” I wait for Atlas to stop me, to tell me I am going too far, but he doesn’t. No, he slides in next to Gavin with a sexy smirk on his face and looks at me like he could eat me alive if given the chance to. I spin to face them, placing one foot on the booth bench between each of their laps. The position is a little awkward and I am slightly exposed but at least I am wearing underwear this time. It’s not like they both haven’t seen what's underneath, anyway.

Atlas grips my ankle, lifting my foot to place a chaste kiss to the inside of my ankle before placing it back in the spot between his legs. His fingers continue to wander up and down my legs, caressing my thigh and massaging my calf. It’s as if he is fighting for my attention while I do everything in my power to focus on fucking with Gavin.

I flutter my lashes, trying to play innocent even though we all know I’m far from it. “Do you know how to make whiskey taste even better, pretty boy?”

Gavin's eyes trail from where my foot is up to my face. “Why do you keep calling me pretty boy?”

“Why do you keep calling me either of the nicknames you have for me?” I tilt my head to the side, sounding sassier than I intended. Oh well. Don’t ask a question you refuse to answer yourself.

He clicks his tongue, nodding his head like he should have seen my response coming. “Fair enough. Forget I asked.”

“So, back to my first question. Do you know how to make whiskey taste even better?”

“No, I don’t, but I assume you are about to show me?”