ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴀᴅ ɢɪʀʟ // $ᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇʙᴏʏ$

4

Clover

Eli was an idiot, but he was fun enough and he was paying. He brought me a couple of beers out to the back of the bank, then we dashed into some Brewery for one before stumbling down the street to St. Roch Tavern. It was already past dinner time back at Pavlos and Kellie’s, but who gave a shit. Not them, that was for sure. It was probably a relief.

Eli swung open the big door of St. Roch's and I followed him in. I’d been drinking on an empty stomach and it had gone to my head, but I didn’t care. Why should I have? Nobody else did.

I’d barely had enough bus money to get home. The last bus left about six, and I was sure I’d missed it already, but that felt hazy now. Maybe I could bunk up with Eli. I didn’t want him, but I was sure he wanted me, and that was bound to be enough to get me somewhere to sleep at least.

I’d kick him in the balls if he tried to grope me.

If he didn’t let me stay after that, I’d sleep outside. I’d done it before. It wasn’t great, but I lived, and I’d better suck it up since I would likely be doing a lot more of it later in the week.

I pointed to a bottle of tequila on the back shelf of the bar and Eli raised an eyebrow.

“You sure we wanna be hitting the hard stuff? The night’s young.”

“Not being a pussy, are you?”

He gave me a smirk. “I’m no fucking pussy. You’ll find that out later.”

The bartender eyed me as Eli pointed to the bottle at the back, but Eli slapped his wallet on the counter and I gave my most confident expression. I was almost old enough to drink, what was a few days?

Then came the words I’d been dreading. I groaned as the bartender cleared his throat.

“Do you have ID?”

Footsteps at my back gave me shivers. “No,” a voice said. “She doesn’t.”

I spun on the spot to launch abuse at the interferer, all ready to tell the nosey son of a bitch to mind his own fucking business, but as my stare crashed into Aristos, and those brown eyes bore into mine, I took a breath.

My drunk tongue wouldn’t function properly, my words felt garbled in my throat, but it turned out I didn’t need them, because it was him who did all the talking.

He pushed Eli with a force that surprised me. “What do ya think you’re playing at?” he asked him, before taking me by the elbow and pulling me away from the bar. I wrenched away on instinct, fists ready to fly, but Aristos didn’t let go.

His grip was firm on my arms, his eyes serious and burning and… pissed at me.

He was really fucking pissed at me.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped. “You should be at home, making amends with my mom and dad.”

“It’s not my fucking home,” I snapped back. “Pavlos and Kellie are dead to me. I’m having fun with Eli. Fun, Aristos. I’m having a good fucking time.”

“And that good fucking time is over now,” he snarled, and the blood rushed to my cheeks.

I felt like the whole place was staring at me. Who I knew to be Aristos' cousin, Scott, shook his head from the table in the corner and it gave me the rage, right in the pit of me. I hated people laughing at me. Judging me. Taking me for a fucking loser.

“This good fucking time is over when I say it’s over!” I hissed, but Aristos didn’t let me go. His grip tightened on my arm and he took a step toward the door. I felt myself moving, even though my boots were dragging. He was strong, much stronger than I gave him credit for.