The Forbidden Fruit

I See An Angel

"Hades, get over here!"

Finn beckoned from the bar to my right, the pulsing blue lights of the club casting shadows and glittery sparks over his face. All around me swirled tons of bodies grinding along with the music. Some girls shot me some suggestive looks, pulling at the bottoms of their bright bandage dresses, and I winked back. A blond girl turned bright red, almost tipping the contents of her martini glass onto the girl next to her.

I made my way through the gyrating bodies to where Finn was seated at the bar, talking in a low, seductive voice to the ginger behind the counter. Honestly, she looked like she was having none of it, so Finn turned to a thoroughly drunk brunette to his left. She seemed more than delighted for his company as she drank in his blue eyes with her own round, blank ones.

"What's up?" I asked, sliding into a seat next to Finn. He broke his conversation with the giggling brunette to take a sip of beer, and then he turned to me. "And Hades...? What the hell, man? No one's called me that since, like, high school."

"Whatever, Hayden," gurgled Finn through his beer, clearly drunk. "Look," he said, throwing up an arm to the dance floor. "You haven't picked up a chick all night. What's goin' on?"

"Nothing," I groaned, pulling at the collar of my black button-up. Finn reached over and flicked the pair of round black sunglasses hanging off the tiny front pocket on my shirt.

"Seriously," Finn said. "I know this is the first time you've been out since Rhodelia an' that shit but..." He sipped his beer again and looked like he was about to barf. He suppressed a gross burp and grinned sloppily, continuing. "Where's that bad boy I used to come here with all the time?"

I shrugged, leaning back on the counter to look at the people dancing. Honestly, I was feeling a little bored here. I wasn't exactly a sleep-around type of guy, but before Rhodelia... Shit, you could call me a hipster fuckboy. I was kind of that darkly dressed, pale, lovesick puppy kind of hipster that the girls all wanted to screw.

"You could easily pick up three chicks right now," Finn stated, like he was a love doctor. "They dig the whole just-been-to-a-funeral scene." He motioned to my outfit: a black button-up tucked into gray jeans, black boots. I knew it wasn't the best outfit to wear to a club, but I just wasn't feeling it.

"I haven't worked out in months," I mumbled, leaning over the bar. "I probably look like a fuckin' stick."

"Whatever," Finn gurgled for the second time. He set his empty beer glass on the counter with an uncomfortably loud slam, and the ginger shot him a dirty look. "I'm gonna get me a piece of ass." He stood up to make his way to the dance floor and fell back down onto the chair. "Eh... It's, er, not worth it."

I rolled my eyes, snorting.

"Kind of a shame, too," he slurred, leaning heavily on one hand as he looked deeply into my eyes. I could see how hammered he was. "I had my eyes on some chick with blue hair." He cupped his hands at his chest and widened his eyes, biting his lip.

"Vulgar," I scoffed, and he laughed loudly.  He reached for his beer and tipped the glass back to his mouth, and then seemed to realize it was empty. He pouted like a little kid, peering into the bottom of the cup.

"Shit, let's do shots."

I paused for a second, and then reevaluated my life at that moment. Was it shitty? In retrospect... Yes, it was quite shitty.

Eh, what the hell.

"Sure."

........