CHANCE | ✔

1| Callista

What if the person you're ready to take a bullet for is the one behind the gun? 

Paroxysm 
(n.) an outburst of emotion or action 

Sunday — September 3, 2023 

"Dance with me?" 

I tear my gaze away from my lap and lift my head to find a pair of glassy brown eyes staring at me. A playful smirk dances on his lips as he waits for my answer with an outstretched hand. 

"No thank you," I mumble, not sure if he hears me over the blasting speakers. 

His eyes skim over me for a brief second before he retracts his hand and drops into the seat beside me. He rests an elbow on the slab. 

Nope. Absolutely not. 

My social battery has drained completely in the 20 minutes I've been here and I am one second away from throwing myself into the fireplace at the other side of the room. 

I am in no mood to interact with people, let alone a drunk guy. 

I knew I should have fought Destiny harder. I knew I'd regret coming here. 

"You look miserable," he states as a matter of factly, cocking his head to the side as his eyes examine me. "No offense." 

"None taken," I say dryly, scrunching up my face when yet another person bumps into me. 

It's impossible to find a clear spot that isn't just a 2 by 2 feet of area so I'm stuck at the makeshift bar in the kitchen, sulking all alone since Destiny decided to ditch me to have sex. 

"Sex is a part of nature." she had said, quoting Marilyn Monroe, before skipping off with her latest conquest. 

As soon as I had set foot in the house, the stench of alcohol and sweat clashing with the sight of a hundred bodies grinding into each other invaded every one of my senses, and I had decided then and there that I was never going to let Destiny drag me to another party ever again. 

Parties aren't that bad, I admit. But, right now, given my current headspace? Hell no. 

"Well, if you despise this place so much, why are even you here?" His tone isn't mocking or condescending. I sigh. 

"Friend," is my blunt answer. 

"Ah, I see." I don't even know why he's still bothering to talk to me. My aura doesn't exactly scream look-at-me-I'm-a-social-butterfly-! "Drink?" 

I shake my head. 

"You really are a buzzkill," he laughs. "You sure you don't wanna dance?" 

"You'll be the first to know if that's the case." 

He smiles languorously. 

"You know where to find me," — No I don't, I want to say but I keep my mouth shut — he replies with a wink and hops off the bar stool, crossing barely four steps before a brunette steps in his way and shoves her tongue down his throat. 

Guess I dodged a bullet there. 

He pulls away for a brief second only to down the rest of the liquid in his cup before carelessly tossing it away on the floor and latching his lips onto hers again. 

I narrow my eyes at the cup — poor thing — before moving them away from it. 

I let them wander around the room, relieved that no one had noticed my presence. But as my eyes glance over every person in the room, they stop when they lock on one very particular person.