CHANCE | ✔

2| Chance

Never let an old flame burn you twice. 
— Debi Tolbert Duggar 

Cacoethes 
(n.) an irresistible urge to do something inadvisable or harmful 

Sunday — September 3, 2023 

Chase Atlantic blares through my ears. 

I down the last of the vodka that is left in my glass and let it fall onto the floor with a devilish grin. The glass disintegrates into a million pieces against the polished wooden surface but the hardcore metal blasting through the house drowns its shatter. 

My eyes scan the chics lined out before me. 

"He really knows how to throw a rager." 

I hum in response when Marcus flops down beside me. Ryder's parties are wild. Every single one of them. 

More lustful gazes turn towards us and I watch two of them ditch their pack and walk over to Marcus who throws them a flirtatious smile and a wink. I roll my eyes and look away before he pulls out his dick. 

"Hey, babe." 

A familiar high-pitched voice reaches my ears. 

Sabrina Lopez, captain of the cheerleading squad and self-proclaimed queen of the entire female population of Blackwood Creek Academy. 

She struts over and makes herself comfortable on my lap, giggling when her ass comes in contact with my stone-hard dick. 

I'm not her babe but whatever. She fucks like a porn star and that's all that matters. 

"Hey," I reply lazily. 

Her fingers rake the buttons of my shirt before sliding down further and underneath them. 

I groan in pleasure and cup her ass when she straddles me. She stares at me with glassy lust-filled eyes and just like that, I know what I want tonight. Her ass grinds into my dick, and I can feel myself growing hard. 

"I'm bored." I hear her mumble. 

She notices the bulge and smirks, letting her hands stroke my length over the fabric and I want nothing more than to shove it down her throat and watch her eyes tear up as she chokes on it. 

"Wanna go upstairs?" she asks, bringing her face inches away from mine. 

I can smell the alcohol lingering on her breath, causing my dick to twitch in her hold, answering her question. She's crazier and wilder when she's drunk, making fucking her ten times better. 

But before either of us can move, I feel a slight shift in the atmosphere, a small, inconspicuous shift that no one seems to have noticed — like a tug in my neurons forcing me to look up. 

My eyes move away from her bright blue eyes and I let them skim over every person in the room, and the way they train away so quickly after glancing at each person for less than a second, I almost miss her. 

But when my gaze collides with hers, my heart fucking stops. 

I'm probably hallucinating. 

Fucking alcohol. 

I am sure I am seeing things, seeing people, because there is no fucking way she can be here. She had left Blackwood years ago. 

It was just a lookalike. 

It can't be her. 

But fuck, when I look into her huge, riveting forest orbs, everything about them confirms the fact that she is not something my mind has fabricated. She really is here.