During the Thunderstorm (Natural Disaster) ✔

Chapter Twenty-One

Alexander Atwood hated parties.

He didn't dislike the loud music. Or the screams. Okay, maybe he did dislike the yelling and found it annoying, but it wasn't the reason he hated parties. For the most part.

It wasn't the booze. It wasn't the people dancing, groping, and making out. It wasn't even the drugs on the coffee tables, though he shot disapproving looks at everyone he crossed paths with. He couldn't help it.

Fucking idiots.

He worked in a bar. He tolerated it. Hell, he could go ahead and admit he liked it. One of the few things in life he liked, besides his incredible music (Allegra didn't know what she was talking about), basketball, and sleep. He was an easy guy.

All the things that were currently happening at the party were a normal occurrence at the bar. He had learned to tolerate them, enjoyed them, and even looked forward to them. Like shooting disapproving glares at everyone. And kicking anyone who dared to sniff powder in the restroom.

What he hated about parties was his inability to escape social situations.

Call it part of the job or apparently, he had an invisible tattoo on his forehead saying tell me all your crises, but he found himself engaged in conversations his entire shift.

The supposed constipated face (dubbed by Cole) didn't help to clear people away from him. If anything, it seemed more engaging.

Alexander wondered if he should implement smiling instead. Maybe that would keep people off his back.

People liked to come to a bar, drink, and ramble about their issues without invitation. Alex didn't have to reply a word. He didn't have to pay attention. If the story was turning too twisted and disagreeing, he could even scowl at the person. If the story was too emotional and someone started crying, he could fake being unable to listen or being too occupied serving other drinks.

Alexander wasn't a fan of this part of the job. That unfortunately happened every Sunday. Why did people decide to have life crises on Sundays? He had yet to understand.

But he tolerated it. He could find an escape from the social situation.

At a party, he couldn't. He had to reply. He had to engage. He couldn't be left alone in a corner, frowning, because someone had to come over and bother him.

"What's up with the Dracula vibes?" Rhys sauntered over and chuckled at him. "You look afraid of the blue light."

Alex frowned, forcing his lips to remain downward and still. "Not afraid of the blue light, though I'm sure you can get blind from it. I'm waiting until we can leave this hell hole."

"It's going to be a while."

"Fucking great," Alex grunted. "Someone, just shoot me now. It'd be less painful."

Rhys laughed again. "That might be hard, but I can look for a knife if stabbing fits you."

"Please," Alex added dryly.

They remained quiet for a few seconds as Alexander looked around. The entire house was packed, since the moment they had arrived, everyone had taken a different direction. Now it was impossible to find anyone.

Hunter was probably socializing, the psychopath, with the basketball team, or with someone new. Cole should be annoying the living shit out of everyone and dragging Nina everywhere while she complained. And Allegra should be dancing somewhere or drinking dubious mixes and making bad choices. Or all the above, she was terrible at dancing, she'd end up regretting it the next morning.

Narrowing his eyes, Alex turned to study his friend. It was unlike Rhys to be standing in a dark corner. Rhys was a bit like Hunter, a socializing psychopath, only with the female department.