Memory Lane

1 / wrong witch

"Go," Scarlett insisted, guessing her train of thought. "I can handle myself. Maybe I will go look for someone to hook up with."

Satisfied, Colette slid off the barstool and let Victor lead into the throng of people.

Scarlett left the bar too, but instead of heading in the direction of the makeshift dance floor, she slipped down the hallway. The music was muffled, and she could finally hear her own thoughts. She started down the hall, not knowing her destination.

There were pairs of people either kissing or chatting against the walls, and she muttered awkward excuses as she squeezed past them. Those whose faces were glued to each other's hardly noticed her.

The second she had a bubble of space around her, she ducked into one of the rooms on her right without thinking.

Thankfully, Scarlett hadn't walked in on anything. But the boy lying down on the bed in the middle of the room didn't comfort her either.

He attempted to lift his head at the sound of her entrance, but was too drunk to do anything but turn his face to hers. The boy was fairly attractive, she noticed. A crooked smile split his face; long lashes framed hazel eyes; messy brown hair was styled in a way that appeared careless.

His outfit reminded her of the costume Chris Pratt wore in the final battle in Guardians of the Galaxy, concealing the muscular body underneath. His legs hung off the side of the bed, and he lifted a hand in greeting.

"Hello," he said. His eyes crinkled as he spoke, and she had to admit it was endearing. Her heart softened.

"Hi," Scarlett said, her voice small.

He was a stranger, but he seemed harmless. And she couldn't bring herself to leave him when he was alone. She was all too familiar with the feeling of being ignored, and even though she didn't know whether he truly was, she figured the least she could was offer her company. She had nothing better to do.

She pointed at the spot beside him. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Nope." He popped the 'p.'

Scarlett sat on the rumpled covers as he scooted over to make room for her. She let her legs hang over and reached a hand up to undo the intricate hairstyle she'd spent two hours perfecting. Her hair fell to brush lightly against her shoulders, blonde streaking through the natural brown locks.

"So... Star-Lord, right?"

He smiled again, though she suspected it wasn't a usual action for him. There was a furrow between his eyebrows, indicating a permanent frown.

"A witch, right?" he said, throwing her words back. He sat up so quickly she jolted. From this angle, it was easier to see his full profile, and her stomach swooped at the proximity. "Your costume is cute. You're a cute witch."

Scarlett was about to thank him when he tipped forward, falling face-first into her lap. She gave an involuntary wriggle. He was closer to her than most of her dates during their first meeting; strangely, he didn't make her feel uncomfortable. She knew he was acting on account of the alcohol, and a part of her understood he was harmless.

Her palm rested in his hair, fingers curling around tangles. "Why did you drink so much?"

If she planned to get drunk, she made sure she had someone around to drive her home and ensure she made the right decisions. He was drunk alone in someone else's bedroom.

He lifted his head from her lap. He was so close that his breath fanned her face, and he reeked of alcohol. "My dad's a dick," was all he said.