Deadly Deception | 18+

Not So Confident

I melt away as soon as my lips touch his rough yet soft lips, which taste better than I had imagined, with the smell of cigarettes and whiskey combined.

My heart skips a beat with the mere interaction with him as if the world has stopped, and it is only him and me. 

I can't help but wonder how it would feel to his lips on me for real. Would it be better than this illusion?

If so, I wouldn't last a day with his mouth on mine.

It feels like heaven. 

I was so lost in my thoughts and the sensation of having him close to my body as he pushed me away from him like I was a disease he needed to get away from.

Due to his harsh push, I fall on my hands and knees and stay in a doggy position for a reasonable amount of time before my mind starts working again.

I look up under my lashes and see the handsome/asshole stranger glaring down at me with so much fury in his eyes as if I have just conducted the worst type of crime by just kissing him. 

Even the illusion of him acts like he has a stick shoved up his ass. 

I blink a few times to understand what is happening, as my mind is still fuzzy from all the Bloody Marys and the joint.

My vision is blurry as I try to make out the faces around me.

I feel dizzy.

"See, Cucciola." My handsome/asshole stranger turns to his right toward a woman who I figured is Elena. "This is why people befriend you, to reach out to me."

He walks towards me while gazing up and down my body, but I can't find it in me to stand up from the ground for some unknown reason. "What are you doing hanging out with a slut like her?" He says with tight lips and a raised brow.

I blink in confusion and trail my eyes around the club, seeing everybody stop dancing and watch the scene unfold before them with curiosity.

It is only later that I understand whom the handsome/asshole stranger is referring to as 'a slut'. I feel humiliation and anger deep in my core while trying to stand up from the ground.

I feel dizzy when I straighten up and unconsciously take a few steps back. It is like my mind can't control my actions, and my neural system is broken and behaving independently.

Before I register what I am doing, I stalk towards the asshole before a loud sound echoes through the club, making people gasp in surprise and take a step back from the scene. 

When my vision is precise, I find my right hand in the air, but there is no other evidence of him being slapped by me other than my hand in the air.

The slap hurt my hand more than his frustratingly flawless face, as his face didn't even move a tad.

He starts breathing through his nose as his chest rises up and down in anger but stands like a statue for a few seconds as if he can't believe he has just been slapped by no one other than myself stupid self.

The realization hits me like a brick of stone when I gather that I have just slapped my handsome/asshole stranger with the entire room of people watching.

Well, scratch the handsome; he is an asshole stranger. 

He drags his gaze to my face lazily, and his eyes could send someone under the ground just by glancing at them.

Dread is slowly making its way from my toes to my head as I try to hold his penetrating gaze but fail miserably. 

He rolls his shoulders back and clenches and unclenches his hand on his side, making the veins on his arms more visible.