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Perfect.
“Fourteen-years-old, foster house number seven.” Rose raised a brow at me. “I was moved from my previous foster home because my foster brother, who I was close to was shot at a party on the wrong side of town. My new foster mother was a drunk and immediately taught me how to numb my pain.”
Her eyes softened. “Oh wow … that must have been hard.”
I shrugged and took another shot from my drink, enjoying the sound of the ice clinking around the glass.
“You’re always so happy. So unfazed by everything,” she said, looking at me curiously. “But it sounds like you had a really shitty time growing up.”
“Everybody goes through shit in their lives. Whether it makes you or breaks you is a choice that you have to make,” I explained with a soft smile. “It almost broke me to be honest. I’m not always strong, but I’ve learned pretty damn well how to fake it.”
All of that was true. I’d found out how to cope and I coped. I grew up in some rough areas, in some rough families, but as long as you put on a brave face and stood your ground, it didn’t matter how you were feeling inside.
Be strong now, break down later.
The only times now that I struggled to control my emotions were around Optimus. He was my kryptonite. He dissolved my strength in an instant, and in that instant I would give him everything. Every part of me wanted to fall and pray that he would catch me. My heart told me he would, but my head wasn’t willing to risk it—the thought of the pain just too much to bare.
“I wish I could be like that.”
I shook my head, my thoughts clouding my atmosphere. “Be like what?”
Rose smiled but it wasn’t the smile I usually saw, it was full of sadness and regret. “I wish I could just not care, but I crave acceptance. I feel like I need to be a part of something.”
“We all feel like we need to be part of something. But you know what, we are freaking amazing just by ourselves and if people can’t accept that then screw them!” I held what was left of drink in the air and Rose grinned at me as she tapped her glass with mine.
There was another glass tap against ours and I looked up to see a gorgeous guy standing next to our booth, a cheeky smile on his face.
“Here, here!” he called.
Rose looked at me and raised her eyebrows and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Can I join you girls or should I just continue to stand here with my drink in the air looking like a douche?”
I looked at Rose, who just shrugged before I scooted a little further around the booth to allow room for sexy McWeirdo. He had dark almost black hair and his blue button up shirt contrasted so perfectly with his olive colored skin. He held his hand out to me and I shook it.
“Chelsea and this is my friend Rose.”
“Nice to meet you, girls,” he said as he shook Rose’s hand also. “My name’s Deacon. Sorry to crash your party. I had to stop. Very inspiring speech. Ever thought of motivational speaking?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Why do that when I can sit in a club and inspire strangers while drinking whiskey. I obviously touched you.”
“Motivational speaking would probably pay more.” He smirked.
I shook my glass, rattling the ice. “Buy me another drink and I won’t send you a bill.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whiskey and …” He looked to Rose, who seemed to be studying him.
She shook her head and smiled. “Oh sorry! Vodka and orange.”
Deacon snapped a salute and headed off toward the bar.
“He’s hot,” she said, obviously admiring his ass as he walked away.
“No kidding,” I said, doing the exact same thing. What could I say, his tight black jeans fit perfectly.
Deacon turned out to be a really nice guy, despite his not so great entrance. He’d come out with a friend, but had quickly been ditched for a girl. I felt bad for him, but he was great company, and damn good on the eyes, so his friends’ loss was our gain really.
“What do you do, Deacon?” I asked as we relaxed into conversation.
