Messy Nights and Modest Fights - Larry Stylinson Short Story

Chapter 16 - You Say I'm Crazy

‘Latch’ – Disclosure Ft. Sam Smith

‘Talking To Ghosts’ – Foxes

You say I’m crazy

I hate to say I want you, Dakota took her drink from the bartender and rested it on a coaster as she fluffed up her hair. The eyes of a few seedy, drunken men were on her body and bare back but she ignored them. They weren’t they eyes she wanted, she’d know if he was looking at her. I want to say I hate you.

Tears stung in her eyes, the pain of Porter’s rejection lingered under skin like an overwhelming dose of speed. She looked at Niall who was reclining on a white leather couch and looking up at the stripper as she swung easily around the pole. Dakota saw the hunger in his eyes while his face was cast in shadows. Dakota lingered, eyes on him and even from across the bar, amidst the smoke that and sex that churned in the air–she could see his primal yearning for the naked dancer. That deep, desire reflected in the shadows of his eyes and the way he chewed on his bottom lip as if to suppress the desire. She watched his eyes trail along the soft, bare skin of the dancer and his fingers grip on her fleshy thigh. He whispered to her, she laughed and threw her head back as his lips brushed against her ear. He whispered wicked thoughts and sweet nothings. 

I wish I were her, Dakota sighed as she swallowed the vodka with large gulps and savoured the burn in her throat. 

Dakota turned away from Niall, she didn’t need to see women all over him it just made the tightness in her chest grow and her ability to perfect that false air of self control, weaken. There were cracks in her resolve, she couldn’t appear weak. Don’t let them see. Her strength, or, appearance of strength was all she had left. 

Dakota ordered another drink and with a shaking hand began reapplying the crimson, matte lipstick to her plump lips. She looked into the mirror and she could see the loitering residual affliction. Her smile was cracked like withered porcelain and her eyes encompassed a sadness that she couldn’t deny. If she looked at the boys, any of them then her eyes would betray her and they would see her sadness. She wouldn’t let them, she couldn’t let them see she was hurting. She was the bitch they met who had no feelings, only hatred. Sometimes she wondered, late at night as she stared at the stark ceiling with Porter’s arm draped across her torso, if she was still that dark, bitter woman. Would she ever change? Could she?

The blonde in Niall’s lap rocked her hips back and forth as she nibbled on his earlobe, he closed his eyes and threw his head back. Laughing in his drunk, aroused reverie and she sucked in a long breath. Forget him, he forgot you. 

She snapped the mirror shut, staring at her hand she remembered when he lay next to her at the engagement party and their fingers intertwined. In those moments, she swore she was holding onto heaven. 

Dakota raised the vodka to her lips and drank in bitter silence as the heavy beat engulfed her and drowned out her thoughts. Harry flashed her a sad smile as he took Louis’ hand and began for the stairs, she waved him off. ‘I’m fine,’ she mouthed. 

Lies. 

Harry blew her a kiss as he stumbled down the stairs and out the front door of the strip club, no one noted their drunken absence but Dakota was stuck, frozen in place. The blonde ran a hand through Niall’s messy hair and Dakota gritted her teeth. She pretended not to care, she cast her eyes away giving him privacy. 

When she turned away she saw Porter who was tongue deep in some cheap redhead, her thick fiery mane almost covered Porter’s face from view. Dakota knew those hands anywhere, she watched him for a moment in shock. What an asshole.