stressed out just ain’t as much fun as drunk, squealy, and on the prowl.
Our trio has turned more than a couple heads, ones that under other circumstances would’ve been prime pickins for me, but I’m just not feelin’ it tonight. That could be in part because of the Pepto pink lady in the corner with tentacles comin’ out of her sides and the way that she’s suctioned herself to some guy in the corner.
I didn’t notice her when I first got here, but somewhere around shot three and drink one, she pinged my radar, and reality came smashin’ right through the buzz I was tryin’ to chase.
The demon in the corner—or at least that’s what I’m assumin’ she is—hasn’t noticed me at all, which I suppose is good, since suction cup fondlin’ isn’t on my list of things I was hopin’ would happen tonight. But the fact that I can see her is just makin’ this afternoon’s revelations feel entirely too heavy and important.
Mama and Daddy and their unconditional love had me feelin’ like the demon bomb was really no big deal, but now that I’m starin’ at somethin’ I couldn’t see yesterday, I’m realizin’ that there might be more to all of this than I thought. I keep ignorin’ her, like maybe she’ll go away, but every time I turn around, there she is.
As Kiara and AnnaMae head right to the middle of the dance floor, I follow behind them. But as I look around at all the dancin’ bodies around me, everyone laughin’ and showin’ off like peacocks with their feathers splayed, unease bubbles in my gut, and I’m findin’ it harder and harder to ignore. Dancers roll their hips and sway seductively, lost to the matin’ ritual, while I question why I thought comin’ out here would make me feel better. I thought a distraction would be a good thing, but it turns out I’m not as good at dismissin’ things as I’d hoped.
I wave at the girls, signalin’ that I’m gonna go to the ladies room. Kiara and AnnaMae take each other’s hands and up the ante on the dance floor by grindin’ on each other and doin’ what they can to pull all available male eyes to them. I’ve seen this routine that they do a million times, and I smile at their brazenness.
They have no shame, and I love that about them. They take what they want with no apologies, and as I watch my friends work their magic and reel in two very eager, very good lookin’ guys, I realize I could do well to be more like that.
But the problem is, any time a cute guy smiles my way, I falter, because my mind immediately flashes back to two particular demons, one with yellow hair and one with marble skin. It’s been hours since I saw them, and yet, I can still feel their warm skin and taut muscles beneath my fingers when I ran my hands up their shirts. I can still feel Alder’s touch when his hand wrapped around my wrist. I can hear Flint’s flirtatious drawl; I can see their smolderin’ eyes.
I want them. Badly. And that’s probably a real bad idea.
As I walk away from the dance floor, my eyes land on the pink, tentacled demon again, and I reach for my phone in the back pocket of my jean skirt as a distraction. My skirt is tight and short, and the frayed ends tickle the backs of my thighs every time I move. I have a black bustier top on that’s doin’ wonders for my front porch, and I should be feelin’ fine and feisty instead of anxious and confused, but it seems there are only two males who I want to flirt with, and they aren’t here.
So instead, I’ve been goin’ over what Flint and Alder said and reviewin’ how that information changes the events of my life. So many things keep naggin’ at me.
Right now, the one I’m focused on is that they said the other girl this happened to was drawn to a gate or somethin’, and I can’t stop thinkin’ about that. Is that the pull I’ve felt about this town? Is Hell or whatever it is they were talkin’ about the reason I can’t seem to leave?
I’m not sure why that keeps pushin’ to the forefront of my mind, especially while I’m in a club where I should be gettin’ my find and grind on, but I’m just in the wrong headspace,