Run Away With Me

Luck Of The Irish

"I like your hair." I confess to a guy with a green mohawk. He has a pair of matching green gauges in and they faintly, somewhere in the back of my useless mind, remind me of Alec.

Jack and I were talking to some group of people about...something? I couldn't follow along very well. Jack has his hand in the hem on my shorts from behind, swiping back and forth. Closer to the inside of my thigh, and back away from it. It was quite effectively, killing me.

But from across the room I noticed this boy's outlandish hair and had to introduce myself. Losing Jack in the process but he'll find me. He always does.

I wander to where the guy was talking to a small group that all dressed similar to him. Studded vests with patches, skinny jeans with rips and holes, heavy chains and piercings. It was fascinating.

He looks down, smiling like he is happy to see me, his lip piercing taking up all of my brain space. "I like yours too." He takes one of my purple curls and wraps it around his solid finger. He has some sort of accent but I don't think I would be able to figure it out even if I were sober.

"Can I touch it?" I ask, not for the first time today. He leans down a little so I am face to face with it and all its glory. It has to be at least a foot tall. I wonder how he got in the door, tilt or duck?

I run a finger over the spikes, hard and sharp and unmoving under my touch. "This is so cool. I've never seen a real mohawk before, it's really hot." I confess, my heart beating faster just being this close to him.

"Yeah?" His smile is on full display, probably realizing I'm really drunk and thinking he is the first to figure it out.

"Yeah, I never thought it would be so sexy. I just wanna touch it. I like you're gauges too. They match." I sound like a drunk idiot, but even if I did, he was loving it.

"What's your name, love?" His voice was raspy, like he spent most weekends at rock shows screaming along with the music and chain smoking out back when they were over.

"It depends who you ask I suppose." I shrug. "What's your last name?"

He grins. "My dad always told me to get a girls last name before sleeping with her. Proper manners and all that shit." I wonder what it's like to have sex with a hairdo like that. Does he get 'sex hair'?

"Hm." I sigh, reaching up and playing with the shaved sides of his head. They were a dark brown in contrast to the lime green shards coming from his skull and I was swirling my finger over its jagged edges.

"Names O'Malley." He says. I wonder if he dyed his hair green because he's Irish or because he likes the color.

"O'Malley." I repeat. He raises his eyebrows in question. "Oh, right." I giggle and this brings a bigger smile to his face. God, I want to lick the lip ring. "Parker." I pop the P.

"Ah, I see you are Irish too." He laughs when my nose scrunches.

"I'm from..." I hiccup. Where am I from again? "New York." I remember and wag my finger at him.

He laughs a short, throaty sound. "No, you're not."

I pull back, hand still on his arm. As if I would take my hand off of it. It's not as muscular as Thompsons but it's still defined. Like he earned his muscles the hard way, not just because he goes to the gym all day.

"How do you know; you don't know me." I scrunch my eyebrows together.

"The New Yorkers I know can hold their liquor. At the very least, they have an east coast accent. You are currently failing at both of those."

I raise my pointer finger to put up a fight, throw in an 'um, actually' maybe, but I just laugh and say "You're good. But can you put your mouth where your money is?"

"With pleasure." He swings my waist quickly, throwing me off balance and dips me so my hair brushes against the floor. I smile wide as he plants a kiss on my lips. His lip ring is cold against my mouth and his breath is minty despite my cigarette theory. He moves expertly against my lips before pulling us both up and pecking me one more time for good measure.

"By far, the most fun kiss I've had tonight. And I made out with three girls."

"Now, that is a sight I would have killed to see."

"Stick around, might catch another showing." I wink.

As I turn to walk away, he takes my wrist in his hand and pulls me back for another, feistier kiss.

This kiss rattles my bones and makes my stomach feel light and airy. If I didn't have my own plans already, this kiss would make me stick around to follow him into bars, night after night, listening to cool music and wearing heavy make-up, short skirts, and band tee's.

"There you are, love, keep me in mind when you're looking for seconds."