I chugged down the drink, feeling the liquid burn my throat. "One more," I muttered, placing the glass back on the bar counter.
"Right away."
He gave me another shot, and I drank it as well. Alcohol and I weren't the best of friends. But I needed it that night. A lot of it.
Why? I needed to feel happy again. Or something. Anything but sadness. I was tired of being so sad all the time. Three months, four days, and two hours had passed, yet the pain was still excruciating. The wound was still fresh. And deep down I knew it would always stay that way.
A tear rolled down my cheek, and I wiped it away, sniffing. I shifted my gaze to the ceiling, blinking back more tears that wanted to escape.
No, I couldn't cry. Not on my mother's birthday. So what if she was not here anymore? So what if I lost everyone I loved in a damned car crash? This day was to be celebrated. Not spent in tears, not crying over someone who would never come back.
I took a deep breath, and rose from the seat, making my way to the dance floor. Losing my worries to music? Sounded like a plan. Dancing always seemed to work for me. That was until, I bumped into him. The boy who was about to turn my life upside down, and make me feel emotions I never thought I would experience again. Be it happiness, fear, or anger. I was about to discover just how intensely one could feel.
Of course I did not know it at the time. If I did, knowing myself, I would have run for the hills at the sight of him. Adventure always scared me. Thrill frightened me. And attention? Let's just say I wasn't used to being in the spotlight. But in that moment, he was nothing but a stranger to me. An incredibly good-looking, hot, and tall stranger. Who seemed to be the very thing I needed to forget my pain.
"I'm so sorry," I said, giving him a timid, apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to bump into you. I guess I had a little too much to drink," I muttered, looking up at him.
"No worries. Shit happens, baby-girl," he said nonchalantly, moving his body to the beat.
I bit my lip, watching him dance. There was something exceptionally sexy about the way he moved his arms. Or I was just too horny, and drunk, to be left unsupervised with someone of the opposite gender.
"You're quite... Tall," I said, starting to dance as well. I attempted to mimick his moves, but failed miserably.
"Or you're just the size of a duck," he slurred, chuckling.
A duck? That was pretty offensive. To a sober me, perhaps. To a drunk me? It was hilarious.
I burst out laughing, continuing to dance my ass off.
"That's the first time someone called me that," I giggled. "Creative."
"That's the first time someone called me that," he replied, smiling down at me. "Most people just call me a jerk and move on."
"Most people don't have a sense of humour," I replied. Or eyes, apparently. Who would insult a dude this hot? Not me. I could never.
Or so I thought.
"I like you, Duckling. What's your name?" He chuckled.
"Elena," I lied. I had no idea why, but I did.
"Stefan," he smirked, offering me his hand.
"Original," I muttered, rolling my eyes as a smile crept onto my lips. I did take his hand, feeling my heart race due to an unknown reason. "Wow, your hands are soft," I said, frowning.
"The Original was Klaus, not Stefan," he replied, before licking his lips. "And yeah, I apply a lot of lotion."
I scrunched up my nose, instantly pulling my hand out of his grip.
YOU ARE READING
The Bad Boy's Possession (SAMPLE)
Romance"Ace," I whispered, feeling my breath hitch, as goosebumps covered my skin. "Hmm," he replied, burying his face into the crook of my neck. He took a deep breath, sighing in content, while his hands moved up and down my bare waist. I closed my eyes s...
