How We Found Us | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Four

Alcohol fueled my dancing. It was glorious and wonderful and I didn't care that multiple men grinded against me. I was in blissful ignorance of their perverse hands rubbing over every inch of my body. One of my hands fluffed up my hair as I swished between the two current suitors vying for my attention. Had I been sober, I would've known both men were nothing but predators seeking a quick one night stand. But I wasn't sober. I hadn't been sober since I left the house after dropping Georgie off with his victorious engagement ring in hand.

I was smart enough to leave my car at home. Instead I took a bus and when I first left, I didn't entirely know why I shoved my body into the tightest crop top I owned and a skirt that was far shorter then I would've normally worn in public. Until I shifted through my closet and drawers, I didn't even know I owned such an outfit. Perhaps it was once a decent outfit that fit me perfectly. Now it was nothing but a second skin conforming to my curves and cutting off my chance to breath.

Still, I didn't care.

I released my hair and leaned in to the guy directly in front of me. We didn't exchange names or polite conversation, there was just dancing. At least it's what some people called dancing. I could've been twirling on a single foot and I wouldn't have known the difference.

His body was hard against mine as I pressed into him, moving my hips with his. The man used his hands to explore every inch of me from my butt to my back to my chest. His lips joined in the exploration, gliding along my neck. My body trembled when his hand found that sweet spot in the middle of my back. It was like a pulse of heat surging through me and I grabbed his hair, pulling his lips onto mine.

What was I doing? Why was I there? Was I really going to continue making out with a guy whose name I didn't know?

Those questions probably should've been running through my mind in an endless chorus. But they weren't. I was void of rationality. Void of caring. Void of any resemblance of myself, and it was wonderful.

When I first arrived at Jakes club, I was worried he would be working. My fake ID managed to get me past the bouncer out front. Or maybe it was the mound of cleavage bulging under my top. He didn't exactly examine my ID closely when I gave it to him. It was a sweet victory when I set foot inside and buried myself in drink after drink until the liquid courage carried me onto the dance floor. If Jake was working, I hadn't seen him once in three hours. Now I was too drunk to care if he was there.

Why had I chosen Jakes club, of all clubs, for me to crash with my insane idea of letting myself go? Who really knows. It was the only place I really knew aside from the multitude of bars near campus. On campus, there were too many chances of someone who knows I wasn't twenty-one to catch me. At Jakes, there was only him.

Lights and music pumped into the massive hall. People shouted and laughed and danced. Laser beams occasionally shot out from the stage where the DJ rocked with his tunes. I leaned back in the arms of my companion, stretching my arms wide. My eyes looked to the unfinished ceilings, watching the strobe lights flicker in unison. The nameless man took my leaning back as a sign he could kiss my chest and I did nothing to stop him. Instead, I locked my fingers into his sweaty coarse hair. When I righted myself, I kissed him again.

He was a lion. I was his feast. Our lips obliged the animal dance we were playing. It was slobbery, it was disgusting, his mouth practically sucked my lips off my face, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. I wanted to be used, to be nothing to someone, to allow myself that stupid moment I would most certainly regret. It filled an empty hallow in the pit of my chest and masked any sense of real emotion.

Finally I pulled myself away, my chest heaving from both the dancing and sudden rush of air from being free of his face. I ran a finger along his cheek and smiled.