Tick Tock - Time's Running Out

Tick Tock (12)

*WARNING* Some sexual content

Chapter Twelve

Robbie

Huh? Why was I so prone to being confused and left alone when I spoke to Tiffany Gold? What was that about? Was it a test? Did she like me? Why had she run off after my sister when we were having a lovely conversation? You know, if I weren’t so madly in love with her, I’d consider ditching my attempts to get her to start dating me.

Who was I kidding? I’d never want to stop trying to get her to date me. Not even if it emerged she was secretly a cross-dresser.

“Chicks,” I muttered, taking a shot out of someone’s hand and downing it. “Why do I bother?”

“I don’t know, bruv,” a familiar voice replied. I turned and found Darren leaning on the kitchen bar beside me. His hand was on his face, hiding his closed eyes as he rubbed his forehead in circular motions. “Sometimes I wonder the same thing.”

He took his hand away from his eyes and examined his surroundings, his eyes darting from one person to the other, but with a semi-blurred look to it. He was evidently legless. His eyes grew wide and it was as if a light bulb had just lit above his head and he pushed himself away from the kitchen top and grabbed Olivia, who was downing shots.

What’s with this party’s obsession with shots?

So, I was left once more, alone at this party that was packed full of... nothing. For once, I wasn’t getting to see any drama! Maybe it was sly drama that wouldn’t emerge until a few days later. That sometimes happens.

However, I wanted some drama! And I wanted it now!

I sighed and got another beer, then wandered to the living room slash dance floor. I nodded my head to the pounding beat of the music, tapping my foot, too. I examined the dancing people and smiled as I saw newly formed couples dealing with the party atmosphere as ‘couples’. I never thought the day would come where Arthur Miller would actually settle down and get himself a girlfriend. It was quite a mind blowing idea, and not one I was so happy about. If Arthur thought it was high time he should commit, then everyone should start to commit in relationships.

I took a seat beside some friends of mine and we got involved in a conversation about the daunting prospect that was our futures. Of course, these guys only talked about their futures when they were pissed out of their minds, and they never really remembered what they had said anyway, so the conversation was often repeated countless times.

However, at that point, Amy walked over to me and sat on my lap, throwing her arms around my neck and whispering in my ear: “you look amazing tonight.”

“Amy,” I said, “I don’t think you should be doing this. It might give people the wrong impression about us.”

“Who says there has to be an ‘us’?” Amy asked seductively as her hands roamed my body freely, travelling from my neck to my crotch area. I shifted uncomfortably. Amy noticed this and grinned. Biting her lower lip, she asked: “do I make you nervous?”

“No,” I told her definitely. “In no way do you make me nervous.”

“So is that a canoe in your pocket then?” she purred, her lips against mine and now she was practically straddling me. I smirked.

“I don’t think so, Amy,” I told her. But before I could say anything else, she took one of my hands and placed it beneath her dress. I gasped as my hand found skin, rather than material as I would have thought. Amy smiled in satisfaction at my reaction.

In this situation, I could do merely two things:

1.       Get the hell out of there!

2.       Proceed with what Amy clearly wanted me to do.