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Our noses brush.
A warm hand palms my ass cheek.
I feel his arousal against my stomach.
Each moment seems to happen in snapshots, reality mingling with the illusion given off by the flashing lights and deep buzz running through my veins.
When his lips dip down and meet mine, I don’t push him away like I probably should. Instead, I pull him closer, desperate to feel wanted by this man. A man whose name I don’t even know. A man who up until a few minutes ago I had never seen before. A man that I have not uttered a single word to. And yet, I don’t care.
I deepen the kiss, letting my tongue slide against his. He tastes of beer and cigarette smoke and for some reason my mind connects this to Atlas. To the Halloween party where we danced similarly to how this stranger and I are dancing now. To the way he smelled of beer and how he looked expelling a cloud of smoke from his lungs on the front porch.
Our teeth clash as the kiss starts to morph into something else. The need to forget pushes me forward. The need to feel anything other than this deep hole in my chest. I don’t care who he is. I just want him to make me forget.
“What the fuck!” someone yells, but I don’t register it. At least not until fingers wrap around my bicep, violently pulling me backward with so much force it’s a wonder I manage to stay on my feet.
I haven’t even processed the interruption before I see a fist fly through the air. My dance partner stumbles backward when the fist collides with his jaw, shock and confusion apparent on his face.
It isn’t until another fist collides with his face, this time busting open the corner of his mouth, that I realize it’s Atlas throwing the punches.
Anger and confusion mingle with the effects of the liquor, making my mind spin in what feels like twenty different directions.
“Atlas.” I grab his arm as he lifts it to swing again, pulling back as hard as I can. He could probably still hit his target if he wanted to, but instead he spins around, his heated glare focused directly on me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He steps toward me, causing me to take a step back.
Over Atlas’s shoulder I catch sight of the poor guy, who still doesn’t know what hit him, stumbling off the dance floor and for some reason, I see red.
“Me?” I scream, shoving his chest with as much force as I can muster. He barely moves. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I push him again. “You have no right!” I move to slap him across the face but he catches my arm in the air.
“No right?” He laughs menacingly. “You were practically fucking that guy on the dance floor.”
“And?” I tear my arm out of his grasp. “I can fuck whomever I choose, wherever and whenever I choose, and you don’t get to say one fucking thing about it.” I bump my chest into his like a barbarian.
I haven’t even stopped to consider how or why he’s here. I’m too pissed to consider much of anything other than what’s standing right in front of me.
“Like hell you can,” he snarls, looking down at me with so much anger that you would think I actually did something to the guy.
“Go fuck yourself, Atlas!” I scream in his face. “Oh wait, you’ve got plenty of people to do that for you, right?” I let out a humorless laugh, dropping my head back as it rips from my throat. “Go home, Atlas. No one wants you here.” I turn, running smack into a hard chest, nearly toppling backward in the process. “Brennon?” I blurt when my eyes dart up to find my brother standing in front of me, a look of absolute bewilderment on his face.
It isn’t until I chance a look around that I realize the floor has opened up around us with several people gathered around, no doubt watching the altercation between me and Atlas.
“What the fuck is going on with you two?” His gaze goes from me to Atlas and then back to me.
“Not one fucking thing,” I say matter of fact, pushing past him.
I hear Rita somewhere behind me but I don’t stop moving until I’m in the parking lot, sucking in the cool night air like I’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe and can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs.
“You’re okay?” Rita asks, hand rubbing up and down my back. It isn’t until then that I realize I’m bent over.
“Why... Why are they here?” I gasp for air.
“I invited Brennon. I’m so sorry, Barlow. I didn’t know he was bringing Atlas. I swear, had I known I would have warned you. I’m so sorry,” she repeats, continuing to rub my back.
“Is she okay?” Brennon asks and I shoot upright as he steps up next to us.
“I’m fine.” I swipe at my face and realize my cheeks are wet.
Fuck. When did I start crying?
