Oblivion

Chapter 1

Hey guys, just a little note to make things clear, the prologue takes place roughly 6 months after the events of the following chapters. Cool?

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I don't believe in ghosts, but I see him everywhere: flickering in the strobe lights, superimposed on the dancers, even in the reflection in my drink. He's pale, almost translucent, dressed in one of his favorite business suits. Exactly as he was at the funeral, with one difference, his eyes are open, and glaring at me.

I grip the cold glass tightly, before knocking back the clear liquid, shattering the image and chasing away the guilt.

Nodding to the bartender, I signal for another. The glasses clink as he selects a new one, wiping the inside with a cloth.

"Same thing?" he asks, already reaching for the bottle. I nod. Giving me a wary glance, he uncaps the vodka and begins to pour. "Where are your friends?"

"Not here. It's just me tonight," I say, voice thick. "Again."

The bartender nods and sighs.

"Here." He places the glass on the counter and pushes it toward me, leaving a trail of condensation in its wake.

"Thanks." My hand trembles as I take the drink and bring it to my lips for a taste. The alcohol is finally starting to take effect; I can feel my mind starting to slip.

"I'll have whatever she's having," a deep, almost husky voice announces, taking the seat beside me. My vision is a bit blurry, but I can distinguish tousled brown curls, and a dark V-neck pulled taut across his chest. He's very fit, and somehow familiar, even though I'm sure we haven't met. "So, what's a pretty girl like you doing all alone at the bar?" he asks, leaning on the counter, taking a drink.

"What does it look like?" I croak, brandishing my glass. He chuckles.

"A cheeky one, eh? That's alright; I like cheeky." His tone is playful, but his eyes are intense, a dark green gaze trained exclusively on me. My nerves flutter, and I feel the impulse to look away, but I can't. His lips move; I fail to catch his words.

"What?"

His cheeks dimple as he grins, amused by my disorientation.

"Dance with me," he says, standing. He knocks back the rest of his vodka, before replacing the glass with a clink.

"No," I say, refusing his outstretched hand.

His eyes widen, then his brow furrows.

"Why not?"

"I don't dance."

"Oh?" His eyes drop, lazily tracing the curves of my body. Smiling mischievously, he adds, "Don't dance, or can't?" His comment irks me. I throw my hand in his, allowing him to help me off the stool. "So, is this a yes?" he asks in mock confusion.

"Let's go."

He smirks, towing me toward the dance floor. It's packed; each dancer briefly comes into focus as we pass by, only to fade back into the mob, indistinguishable under the flashing lights.

Once we're in the center, he stops, and pulls me close. Though the sea of bodies threatens to smother me, his arms are strong, his hold secure. I find myself leaning back against his chest, his musky cologne a heady reprieve from the stench of sweat surrounding us.

The crowd writhes to the fast music; energy crashes off of them in waves. I raise my hands above my head, and swing my hips. In the arms of this stranger, I let the current pull me under.

His fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, gripping my hips tightly. We move as one, winding and grinding, seamless. I snake an arm up around the back of his neck, gripping his curls. Heat rises off of our skin, scorching the air.

My bones shiver under the pressure of the deafening bass. As though the molecules themselves are moving too fast for my body to contain. Like at any second, I'll just break apart. On the precipice of such destruction, I'm breathless, weightless. Free. My mind is completely blank, every thought chased away by the delicious friction of our bodies.

I've finally lost myself, and I never want to be found.

Time fades away; each moment only measured by changes in rhythm.

Faster. His fingertips graze the sensitive skin of my navel, sending sparks across my abdomen. My heart's beating fast, like a hummingbird, ready to burst from my chest and fly away.

Slower. Our hips roll in perfect harmony; I'm melting into him. I've forgotten where I end, and where he begins. Somehow, whole, like he's filled the gaps I can't quite reach.

The music begins to fade, a song coming to an end. I frown as our movements slow to a halt, unwilling to come down from my high. My partner takes my hand, detaching it from his neck.

"Come back to mine," he murmurs, lips at my ear.

I nod helplessly, craving more. He brushes a kiss against my jaw before leading me away.

I gasp as we breeze through the doors; the winters air a severe contrast to the warmth of the club.

"I'll fetch a cab," he promises, depositing me on the curb.

"Okay," I murmur, watching him disappear into the throng.

A haze of smoke hangs over the pavement; Londoners mill about, partaking in their scheduled doses of nicotine. My eyes are beginning to swim, the tips of their cigarettes looking more and more like fireflies in the chill of the night. Swaying on my feet, I watch them dance.

Commotion near the entrance of the club garners my inebriated attention. Intense flashes of light flicker amongst the crowd, quickly accompanied by a thunder of screams.

Rising to my tiptoes, I crane my neck, but my balance fails before I can spot anything. I’m about to go investigate when he returns, breathing heavily. He takes my hand and leads me to a black cab idling on the curb. 

"What was all that?" I ask, struggling to string my words properly.

"Nothing to worry about," he answers brusquely, opening the door for me.

We slide in. Once the door shuts, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his lips to mine, desperate for another shot of oblivion.

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Hey guys, so this has been a long time coming, right? I'm really anxious to hear what you're thinking. 

Look for the next update: Tomorrow! :D