Run

Chapter One

Howdy! Hope you like your stories sexy, snarky, and with just enough angst to make things interesting :) Each chapter will have a video (provided I can find one) ; they're all songs from the playlist for this book. Feel free to comment!

***

I'd lost my mind.

The bar parking lot was less than half full. That wasn't necessarily an indication of how crowded the place would be, once I got inside. People could have walked. Carpooled. Taken cabs. I stood next to my car and studied the place. Flickering neon signs for Budweiser and PBR graced the scratched and scarred windows. The exterior might have started out white, or off white, but now it faded to grungy non-color that reminded me of a woman stood up one too many times, her shoulders slumped in defeat at ever getting lucky.

Maybe not the best place to find a one-night stand. Then again, a bar was as close to a sure thing as I could get, wasn't it?

I needed a distraction. I needed a hit, a fix, something. I'd drunk myself into a stupor the first few months until I'd woken up with one too many hangovers. I'd never developed a taste for pot. Sleeping pills scared me shitless. Yoga helped, to an extent. My flexibility had grown to downright circus freak proportions.

There was something about the mindless rush of hormones, the sweat, the groans and whimpers and gasps, that made me think sex would quiet the chaos inside. Something to lose myself in, even if it didn't end in orgasm. I'd read somewhere that most women couldn't climax during a one-off hookup. That didn't mean I wouldn't be able to find release. It just might be a different kind. Or I'd use my hand.

I rubbed my damp palms on my jeans and headed for the front door. Last chance, McKenna. Last chance to turn around and not do this.

The door opened and the scent of stale smoke drifted out, along with a guy in battered jeans and work boots, his hand cupped around the end of a cigarette. Light glowed briefly between his fingers, then went out.

I felt like that all too often these days. Bright and happy and fierce for minutes, mired in the swamp for hours. He stared as I walked past, gaze going to my head to my bare arms, and I swallowed a sigh. I'd picked Texas because no one would think to look for me there. I'd picked Austin because I'd thought I could still blend in. Apparently there was no blending when your hair was bright purple and people were constantly squinting at your arm, trying to decipher your ink. If this guy's reaction was any indication, maybe the bar wasn't as much of a slam dunk as I'd thought.

The room was dim. It hid the age and wear of the place well. I liked it. One step above a dive, an old jukebox in the corner playing Bob Seger, a long bar running the length of the back wall. Tables were scattered here and there, but almost no one was sitting at them. No, this was a place you bellied up to the bar and drank, shooting the shit with the person next to you.

There was an empty stool in the corner. It was probably vacant because the bartender tended to ignore it. I didn't care. I could see the room, not have to worry about anyone at my back, decide if there was anyone worth pursuing, and if there was, I'd have the alone time to work up the courage.

Oh, and figure out how to ask for what I wanted. Because I was fairly certain walking straight up to a guy and asking him to fuck me would only endanger me more.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I slid onto the stool and tugged at the bottom of my tank top, then tried to discreetly tug the top part up farther. Not that I had much in the way of cleavage.

While I waited for the bartender to meander over, I scanned the other patrons. There was a clutch of older growly-looking men on the opposite end, hunched over on their stools, half-empty pints in front of them. Every single one of them had a hat laid out on the bar. A couple sat a few stools over, their heads together and bottles of Bud in front of them. There were a few patrons who were clearly on their own, scowling at bottles or picking through the baskets of pretzels.