I had never even drank before. So, naturally, I took the opportunity when it came. Before I knew it, I went from sipping a soda to drinking my twenty-something vodka shot. With my head spinning and thoughts blurring together, I stumbled onto the dance floor. In the dark of the club all I had seen was his high cheekbones and mischievous eyes as I swayed my hips. He danced like no-one was watching, but of course they all were. One person in particular.
Dick.
I could see him from the corner of my eyes. His gaze had hardened, focused on me and the stranger. Our bodies were connected, his hands all over me.
I knew it was stupid, trying to make Dick jealous even though he clearly had no feelings for me. The last two weeks had been a series of me watching him flirt with everyone and everything in sight.
The man twirled me until our noses were two inches apart. The smell of alcohol and smoke was reeking off of him, and I was sure the same could be said about me. His lips barely touched mine when a body came between us, someone I recognized immediately. Dick pushed the guy away, and the man didn't waste a second to find another girl to grind. Dick turned around, his eyes cold as stone.
"I think we should leave." he said, an edge to his voice.
"So now you care?" my voice sounded more slurred than I wanted to admit.
I hated the way I was acting, like a bratty little girl. But the alcohol washed over everything like a vail.
"You're wasted, let's go." Greyson grasped my hand tightly, leading the way to the door. I didn't fight him, I barely had enough consciousness to walk.
Once we were outside, Dick took a deep breath and turned to look at me. I stood, shivering in my short dress but trying to hide it. Dick rolled his eyes, then proceeded to take his jacket off and wrap it around my shoulders. All the while looking me dead in the eyes.
I broke eye contact as years and years of feeling came crashing to the surface.
I knew he could never love me the way I loved him, but this hurt too much. The way he cared, he cared so much, but not in the way that mattered. I could get drunk a hundred times, try to let go of the things I felt every time I saw him, and it would still be there. Two years getting tortured and he still remained my rock. The reason I got through everything, and the reason I was still here.
"Dicky..." I looked up with glistening eyes. "I-"
I saw as his face physically softened up, eyes widening and his arms going protectively around mine.
"What is it?" Dick whispered.
"Nothing. Let's go home." I said.
"A-are you sure?"
"Please."
