Dysphoria

Chapter Three

"Are you okay?" He says, one hand lingering on my waist. The other gripping my elbow.

I take a step forward and look back at him. "Shouldn't I be asking you that since you almost got knifed?" I fold my arms across my chest to stop him staring at it.

He grimaces taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. "Seems like there's a lot of new faces around lately. You can't be too careful." He stares at me intently, wetting his lips.

"I'm Nia. And I don't have a knife on me. So you can relax."

He smirks down at me, his eyes were like molten chocolate.

Someone cranks up the music even louder. "Come on I can't hear shit out here." He steers me down the hall into one of the rooms.

Fuck this guy was nothing but trouble.

But that didn't stop me going with him. He opens a door to what looks like a generic guys room, sloppy and chaotic. Lots of navy paint and trophies.

I kick my heels off and sit on the bed, taking the alcohol out of his hand and taking a mouthful.

"Fuck I hate whiskey." I say with a grimace. "Couldn't you have picked something else?" Then I handed it back to him.

He seems oddly surprised as he takes a drink. Maybe girls didn't usually act like this around him.

I close my eyes and lean back against the cool wall, enjoying the calm silence between us both that was so different from the pounding noise in the rest of the house.

Clearly a few minutes go buy when i feel something pinching my calf.

"Hey!" I snap at his pretend guilty looking face.

"I was just checking if you were asleep." He grinned.

"Was I snoring?"

"No?"

"Well then I clearly wasn't asleep, asshole." I grab the whiskey bottle taking another sip. God that shit burns.

"You snore?" He sniggers.

"Don't be a fucking child, everyone snores." I roll my eyes at him but can't help smiling at how dumb this whole situation was.

"So why did you lose it back there?" I ask watching his back tense up. Maybe he's going to just storm off. But he takes a deep breath instead.

"My ex. She was fucking some college guy in the pool." He looks down at the floor, clenching his jaw. "Everyone was talking about it."

"Wow. I'm really fucking sorry." It's hard not to feel a small pang of sympathy for the brown haired giant beside me. "That's really rough. But now the smashed glass and shouting makes sense. I would have probably done worse."

He looks at me with guarded surprise. Not expecting sympathy from a stranger. Or anyone at all for that matter.

"What did you say your name was?" He asks quietly studying my face.

"I'm Niamh, but everyone calls me Nia because it's easier." Tugging my dress down a little so it wasn't riding up as much.

"Are you British or something?"

"Ha! Fuck no, I'm Irish." I scrunch my nose at him in mock disgust.

"You're Irish but you don't like whiskey?" He grins, leaning back against the wall so our arms were pressed against each other.

"Yeah. And before you get your hopes up, I don't shit out pots of gold either."

He starts to laugh this time, a real laugh that shakes his body. It's not long before I join in, enjoying the deep wrinkles around his eyes when he's happy.