As We Are Now

CHAPTER TWO

the actor who played finnick in the hunger games

Alexa Hunt

It's the second night in a row that Joey Fisher has bailed on me for a measly hook up. What kind of girl would even want to hook up with a guy like Fish anyway? I'll never understand.

I mean, yeah, he's not ugly, but it's not like he's Sam Claflin. Also, he farts a lot, and it stinks. Bad. What's charming about that?

"There's no need for charm when it's a one-night stand, Al" he'd tell me. Screw that. If you're going to smell like rotten eggs and give me a lopsided grin with that stupid crooked jaw of yours, you better fucking charm me to death – I don't give a damn if it's only for a night.

"Hey," a voice calls out, just as I make my way onto Fish's front yard. I turn my head to the side and can't help but roll my eyes when I see who it is.

"What do you want, Andy?" I deadpan.

"Where are you going?" He slurs. I can't tell if he's drunk or just being dumb. I'm leaning toward both.

"None of your business, really," I reply.

"Where's Joe at?"

"Why don't you go inside and find out yourself?"

Andy lets out a deep breath, a dazed look on his face as he staggers closer to me. "You don't have to be so cold, babe."

"It's in the eighties," I retort, "I think I can afford to be a little cold."

"Let me warm you up," he whispers, sliding a callused hand up my shirt. I flinch, instantly jumping away.

"Fuck off," I growl, digging my nails into his wrist. He yelps in pain, snatching his arm back.

With a shaky stride, I storm off, hoping he doesn't follow. I loathe Fish's parties. Too much booze, too many people, not enough patience. If we weren't so close, I don't think I'd ever willingly subject myself to this shit every night.

Andy is always acting like a jackass, so I'm used to it, but nights like these are a pain. It pisses me off how he gets so messed up that he forgets he's into dudes and tries to feel me up. Or maybe he doesn't forget – he just doesn't care.

I'm pretty sure he has multiple personality disorder, except his other side only comes out when he's under the influence. We've been friends long enough that I should know at least that much about him.

I groan loudly as I reach my bike that's strewn up against Fish's truck. It's nearly three in the morning and it's dark as hell; a part of me doesn't want to ride home alone. Maybe I could just sleep in the bed and wait for his bitch ass to come out looking for me when he's done with his latest fling. I know he wouldn't mind me staying over, but there's no way I'm falling asleep on that couch when there's a party going on. I don't want to wake up with a dick drawn on my forehead (I'm speaking from experience).

Huffing loudly, I pull myself up into the back of the truck after throwing my bike in, and try to get comfortable since I have no idea how long I'm going to be waiting. For all I know I could end up out here until the sun comes up, Fish's actions are usually unpredictable. I'm not positive if he'll even realize I'm missing, he usually does, but he also usually doesn't have a girl other than me to keep him company. I blame that on his lack of charm.

Just as I'm about to doze off I hear someone screaming my name. I shoot straight up, eyes wide. My heart kicks into over drive the second I see Fish racing toward me, shirtless and terrified. Andy's behind him, but he's not the reason Fish looks like he's about to ruin his pants.