All I see ✔️

CHAPTER 12

"There's no sexual tension." I snap.

"Yeah keep telling yourself that."

"Fine stay here, I'll dance alone and let some grouchy old man touch me inappropriately," I make a motion of getting up and Hunter rolls his eyes.

"You're such a drama llama."

I wink. "I've heard that before."

"You're such a funny dancer," I shout at Hunter over the loud music.

"What do you mean?"

What I mean is, he is a hilarious dancer; his dance steps include the floss and occasionally flailing his arms a little too far and a little to carelessly. I think I might have a black eye because of all the times he smacked me in the face with his dancing.

"You're so mean, I hate you." Hunter pouts at me and does the floss simultaneously.

"No, you don't," I stick my tongue out at him, "you love me."

And he does. Hunter and I sat beside each other in the freshmen orientation and we totally hit it off, talking about conspiracy theories about Canada, which is a conversation for another day. He's my go-to friend after Ellie and I can absolutely rant to him about anything.

One time I ate his ear off by talking about how not understandable and pointless haiku is, who understands a poem in three lines and something is absolutely wrong with you if you can find a deeper meaning it. Hunter being Hunter listened to all of it, without ever passing his commentary, unlike Ellie who went off about the importance of poetry. I love Ellie, I totally do and I duly understand the role of haiku in literature but sometimes I want to rant without being judged and Hunter is perfect for that.

"You're a little minx," he narrows his eyes at me, "can you stay here without being inappropriately touched while I go the washroom?"

I nod, losing myself to Joe Jonas' voice, which is what god sounds like when he orgasms. I am moving my hips and my eyes are closed, because there is nothing else I feel at this moment – just the honey dripping voice of Joe Jonas and the light sheen of sweat on the back of my neck. Bodies are cramped up together and I am almost grinding against a girl in front of me. I mutter a sorry and she flashes me a toothy grin and we continue dancing. I don't know how long it has been since Hunter has gone but it's been a while, and so when I feel two hands gripping my waist, I don't think much about it and continue swaying.

But slowly the hands move down to my ass and I am on high alert now, it's not Hunter, he wouldn't do it, come to think of it, he wouldn't touch me either. I whip around and find a blonde guy grinning at me. His movements are tipsy and he reeks of alcohol.

"Get the hell away from me!" I shout over the music and take a few steps back.

"C'mon don't be like this." He has meaty hands and drunk Blonde is slurring at me now, "C'mon babe, we are both hot and the night is young and we should get on with it."

I would like to point out to him that no, he's not hot, he actually looks like a sleazy slimeball and is undoubtedly a creep, but I prefer not getting raped when I walk out of this club, so I refrain from it. What I do tell him instead is to fuck off. That's right, my friends, I am not very good at holding back my mouth.

I touch the front pocket of my jeans and take a breath of relief when I feel the silhouette of mace's pepper spray can. "Go away or go blind."

"Imagine the fun we could have." Meaty hands blond smirks at me and that is the end of my patience limit. Trigger warnings go off in my head and my creep-o-meter is officially ringing.