𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

tw: mentions of sexual assault

My cheeks feel as if they are about to burn off as I look back down. Chris spins me around and I catch another glimpse of Mr. Sexy Mystery Man staring directly at me. I hold back a smile and I already feel a lump in my throat from suppressing it so much. He, himself already had a chokehold on me, but his attention just brought it to another level.

It's so tempting to just go seduce him and be that girl who goes to a wedding just to hook up with someone. Maybe I actually can. I'm not going to see him again after this wedding, so why not. Plus, I'm an adult now and I can totally do adult things, my drunk mind debates.

I see him walk up to the bar with the same child that he was with during the wedding. He's carrying her, propping her up with one arm as she sleeps, and getting a drink with his other hand. I see him start walking away, but giving the bartender a look of pure disgust as the creep's eyes are still glued on me. He drops the child off with a woman and takes his suit jacket off. With his drink still in hand, he goes outside onto the balcony and quietly shuts the door behind him.

Wait, he might be the father of that child. And that woman could literally be his girlfriend or wife. Oh God, I had it all wrong. But, why was he looking at me that way then? My thoughts surround me as I continue dancing. I try to think for a minute, but this is not a night to make rational decisions. If what I'm thinking proves to be true, I'll back off, but I'll never know until I ask. I make my way over to the door leading to the balcony, but I make sure to give the bartender a little wave before I go outside.

Stepping outside, I see him clad in a white shirt with one or two buttons undone, swirling the clear liquid in his glass around. The dim light shining overhead lights up part of his face and creates a shadow of his jawline. His dark chocolate hair hangs a bit over his forehead and his skin is a warm beige color.

I lean over the edge and look out to see a pretty dead town. It's not going to be like this when I go to UCLA this fall with the bustling city surrounding me.

"God, this is way stronger than beer," he remarks. I turn around to see if he is talking to me or himself.

"No shit, Sherlock," I respond anyway. Even someone with tiny snippets of knowledge about alcohol knows that clear drinks are going to be strong. "What even is it?" I ask hoping I don't sound dumb.

"A gin and tonic, but the guy put a lot of gin," he winces as he drinks the rest of the cocktail. I can't help, but watch his Adam's apple move as it travels down his throat. I want his cock to travel down my throat.

I immediately snap out of my thoughts and awkwardly tap on the railing. "So, what are you doing out here? I haven't seen you dance all night," I attempt to make conversation.

"I don't dance," he blankly states. I expect a follow-up response, but the conversation ends there.

"Okay..." I say confused, but another idea pops into my head.

"I'm sorry, but I never got your name," I start again. At least with this, I might be able to find his Instagram account.

He thinks for a moment before answering. "Mateo," he responds a little too confidently. Yeah, that's definitely not his real name. "And your name?" he asks.

"Emily," I quickly respond, but I curse at myself for choosing the most basic and annoying name out there. "So Mateo... why don't you dance?" I try to continue.

"It's not my thing," he coolly answers while he fiddles with his empty glass.

"Is that another way of saying you can't dance?" I raise my eyebrow. He looks away and I can see some kind of a smile form on his face.