Emmett and I do the loose, side, male hug thing and he starts prattling on about his football game last week. I'm not really paying any attention though, because I'm distracted by a commotion on the other side of the room.
That smarmy fucker, James, from my Ethics in Education class, has some poor girl pressed against the window frame, his hands wandering down the sides of her body. She looks uncomfortable, her head moving from side to side. I realize he's trying to kiss her and she's resisting.
I'm over there before I even realize I have moved, my hand firm on his shoulder, pulling him away.
"Hey man, I don't think she's interested."
James stumbles, and looks up at me. He's glassy eyed, intoxicated, and his features twist into an expression of sheer confusion. Recognition dawns on his face, and he straightens up.
"She with you, man?"
"Yeah, she is, so back off."
The words tumble out of my mouth before I realize what I'm saying. In my peripheral vision I can see the girls eyes widening, and I hear a breath catch in her throat.
James mumbles something incoherent and stumbles away.
I turn back; only to be faced with one of the most beautiful girls I have ever laid eyes on.
Guess this party won't be so bad after all.
Another Love - Read more here:http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9534848/1/Another-Love
He should've stopped a long time ago.
And not just the Jack Daniels. That was stupid. He'd only meant it to be that one drink. But he'd dreamt of her every night that week, and that song he kept hearing everywhere reminded him of her, and one drink turned into where he was now, on the couch with the bottle in his hand.
It was them he should've stopped. This sick, obsessive thing they had, where they were but they weren't, where it was selfish need to begin with, just about using each other because it felt good and it was fun, and why not? But it hadn't been long until it turned into desperately wanting to give the other everything, because just taking didn't feel as good anymore, and that was what he should've stopped.
He was a selfish dick, and before, when it wasn't anything but mutual benefits, if he happened to make her feel good, it was just a validation of his skills. But then it became less about validation, and more about making her feel good for her, and after that, he was screwed.
So he should've stopped them. For real. Just cut if all off, found someone else. But he couldn't, because she was always there, and she was beautiful, and everything he wouldn't let himself have. So he'd tell himself he was stopping, but inevitably, he crawled right back.
It had been three weeks since he'd seen her. Pathetic. The first time they managed four months apart, and now? Now he was on his hands and knees after only a few weeks.
But it was so stupid, that they were even trying. He belonged to her, genuinely. A faithful dog running at her heels, without the need of a leash.
If she wanted it, he'd let her drag him through every imaginable filth, every pain and torment she could think of, just for the sake of seeing her smile. She was a knife whose home was his heart, and he could think of nothing he wanted more than to bare his chest to her again.
His fingers loosened around the bottle. She would come, if he asked it of her. A phone call, a murmured plea, and she'd be there. Because maybe she was the knife, but it was his name carved into the hilt.
He struggled to sit up. The world rocked in front of him, unsteady and swimming. With drunken precision, he placed the bottle in the middle of the table, watching it to make sure it stayed there. He grabbed for his phone, but only managed to drag it over the edge.
It was against his ear now, though, and his eyes were closed as he listened to it ring. The whiskey had done the dialing, but he wasn't worried. Jack had his back. Jack knew who to call.
And maybe that was why he should've hung up. Maybe he should've just left her alone. If he stopped doing this to both of them, she'd eventually find someone else. Then she'd stop answering the phone when he called, cut him off from the very thing he needed most.
And maybe her being happy could be enough. He'd like to think he could be that kind of person, the person who'd let her go if he knew it was the best thing. For her. It wouldn't be the best thing for him, but who cared?
The phone rang only twice.
"Bella." He was slurring. Embarrassing. "Bella."
Roads Untraveled - Read more here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9534870/1/Roads-Untraveled
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