The Art of Taking [+18]

Strangers +18

<<<< MIA >>>>

<<<< JACE >>>>

I didn't go to that party looking for trouble.

But then again, I didn't plan on wearing that dress either—the one that made me feel like someone else. Someone a little braver, a little reckless. Someone who didn't care what her past whispered behind her back.

Tonight, I wanted to feel everything and regret nothing.

Tonight, I wasn't interested in thinking.

I wanted distraction. Contact. Something to press against.

The house was packed. Music too loud. Lights strobing hard enough to make everything feel unstable. Bodies moved around me like static—sweaty, drunk, high on the chaos.

I moved through them with a red Solo cup and a single thought looping through my head:

Don't stop.

Just keep moving. Keep drinking. Keep pretending.
I hadn't even finished my drink when I saw him.

Leaning against the kitchen counter like he was above it all.
Tall. Still. Unbothered.

A black t-shirt stretched across a chest built for it, sleeves rolled high enough to show the dark ink that snaked along his arms. One hand wrapped lazy around a bottle of whiskey, the other hooked low on his hip like he couldn't be bothered to move for anyone.

His jaw was sharp enough to cut, mouth tilted into a smirk that wasn't even trying to be polite. He looked like trouble dressed in black and arrogance.

But it wasn't his mouth that held me.

It was his eyes.

Dark. Stormy. Already on me.

It was like being caught in a spotlight I hadn't agreed to step into. The music, the noise, the drunken laughter around me blurred until it was nothing but him.