mocks in a condescending tone.
He leads me out of the busy group sex session that appears to be forming in the living room, and into a room off the hallway that has a couch along the wall and a distressed leather lounge chair settled into the corner. Books fill a bookshelf in the opposing corner and there’s a wooden desk against the wall under the window.
He sits back into the lounge chair, cracking open the beer he grabbed for us, and props one leg up. Taking a drink of the beer, I noticed the roll of his throat as he takes a long pull, staring at me the entire time until his lips finally slip from the glass bottle.
“Because I don’t attend orgies or junkie parties on the regular? Yeah, okay.” I scoff, attempting to open the beer he so kindly handed me. But I can’t. It’s not a twist off.
He watches me struggle with a cocked brow and an amused smirk pulling at the corner of his lip before standing, stripping my hands of it. He hits the top of it at the same time he drops the bottle against the corner of the desk beside him, effortlessly opening it and handing it back to me. I swallow before looking away, reluctantly taking it from him.
“So, why were you at the bar, anyway?” I ask, attempting to clear the awkward air with conversation.
He rests his arms casually on his knee, the neck of the beer hanging from his fingers. “Kid needed a quick ride. He’s tanked. Clearly.”
“He needed a ride to the bar? To stop there and then leave?” I ask. I’m confused.
“See. Pure.” His lips hover on the rim of his bottle as his eyes roll.
I sit and think about that for a minute. Then it clicks, he was probably buying or selling drugs, Hawke was his sober ride.
I’m getting really annoyed by his rapid change in attitude. First, he’s playful and somewhat easygoing, then he’s annoyed and standoffish. Why bring me here if this was all that was going to happen? Sitting in an office while people have sex and do drugs around us? I could’ve been back home by now, in my pajamas.
“Why did you want to bring me? Why even make the bet?”
He toys with his bottle, peeling at the corner of the label before his eyes snap up to mine. “I just wanted to piss off Lilah. You looked decent enough.” His eyes trail my body, focusing on my exposed thighs again. “Plus, it’s entertaining for me, seeing her upset. Now she’ll leave me the fuck alone,” he comments before returning to his bottle peeling.
Dick. He brought me here just to use me to piss off some girl he messed around with so she wouldn’t bother him? He’s disgusting.
“You’re a class act,” I spit out. “You used me.”
“Please, this is the most thrilling thing you’ve done all year. I’m sure of it.”
“I was having more fun by myself.” My arms cross over my chest as I glare at him.
“Really? Going to the bar…that you work at…by yourself? It’s the saddest shit I’ve heard in a while.”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s just go home already.”
His face turns combative at the mention, but then his lips curl up again. “As much as I love the fact that you call my place your home”—his grin drops to a scowl—“we can’t.”
“What do you mean? Take me home. Let’s get in your car and go! This is stupid!” I say before turning to leave the room.
“Cole, wait,” he rushes, getting up off the lounge chair and walking towards me.
He grabs my arm, pulling me back and shuts the door I had just opened. Pushing me back against it, I suck in a breath as the hard surface hits my back. He holds the doorknob in one hand as his other rests on the wood beside my head. His face is inches from mine and it’s obvious in the way his pupils dilate that the closeness is doing something strange to him.
“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly, surprised by his actions and his response to them.
He knows I’m with Patrick. This can’t be what it seems.
“You should stay in here,” he says, his gaze drifting down to my parted lips. “It’s not safe for you out there.”
“W-why?” I whisper, too aware of his closeness to me.
I have a feeling witnessing an orgy would be a lot safer than this bubble of Hawke’s I’m in. I feel the electricity pulling my body to his, but I fight it. It’s wrong. He’s wrong. He keeps gazing from my eyes to my lips, slowly inching forward as his mouth parts ever so slightly, then pulling away, tightening his jaw.
He closes his eyes, slowly moving forward until his forehead drops on the door next to me. He turns his head, facing my cheek as I try to remain focused on looking forward. My eyes curiously look over at him, our lips inches apart. A pained expression takes over his face, and he closes his eyes.
Why is he doing this to me?
I smell the faint beer on his breath and wonder for a second if his tongue tastes the same.
Jesus, Nic, snap out of it.
My heart rate is fast enough to cause a heart attack. My chest rises and falls at the light contact between us, and my entire body comes alive, realizing his presence, yet I’m frozen in place. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
He opens his eyes, catching me biting the corner of my lip. His tongue glides slowly across his bottom lip as his dangerous eyes seem to imagine things. Things that he shouldn’t.
The animalistic look that once held his eyes slowly turns from passion into a painful emotion that spreads across his face.
“Fuck,” he curses beneath his breath.
He slams his hand against the door next to my head, making me gasp, as he turns and walks back to the chair. He finishes the rest of his beer in a quick few swallows, then tosses the bottle in a bin near the desk. I’m just standing there, pinned to the door in confusion.
“We can’t go right now. I don’t have a car.” He scowls out the window.
My eyebrow raises in question, and he turns to see it.
“It’s Kid’s car now. I sold it to him.”
Well, that explains why he looked so casual and comfortable while driving it. So if I understand correctly, he sold his house, sold his car, and sold his soul too, by the looks of things. He’s got nothing but Patrick and me to help him get back on his feet.
Patrick.
I shouldn’t be here.
Why am I here?
“So, are you going to tell me why you really brought me here, Hawke, or are we just going to stay locked in this room forever?” I demand walking towards where he’s sitting, needing answers.
His face hardens and I feel a coldness come about, the darkness clouding his gaze. Not the same one he had a minute ago when our foreheads were together. When his eyes told an unspoken story of want and pain. When we were breathing the same air.
“The truth? Guess I was hoping you’d suck me off, maybe more,” he says cruelly, his brows lowering.
He switched up entirely. The guy that playfully brought me here, the one who looked at me with a pain in his eyes by the door, the one who’s clearly protecting me from the shit going on outside this door. He’s gone, replaced with this repulsive being who’s intentionally trying to upset me. He wears so many hats.
“You’re disgusting.”
The comment and the fact that he knows he’s under my skin has him standing and lurking back towards me again. “Am I?”
He cocks his head and I swallow, knowing I’m in trouble.
“The way you bite the corner of that lip every time I’m near you, and the way I can literally see your pulse pounding in that delicate little neck of yours, says otherwise.”
I take a step back, then another one as he continues to close in on me again.
“I mean, don’t you wonder what it’s like to be fucked by someone like me? That painful pleasure that’s just sitting deep inside you.” He backs me towards the couch against the wall near the door. “There’s an ache. A want. No, a need to be filled.”
My eyelids grow heavy as my lips parts open at his erotic words. I can feel myself getting flustered again as I become numb by his tone and the deep sultry voice he uses to coax me, curious about this pleasure he so willingly speaks of.
He ushers me against the couch until the back of my calves hit and I fall back into the seat. I quickly press my thighs together under my skirt and he takes notice.
“Isn’t that what you need?” he asks, leaning in closer. “To be fucked?”
His tone is raspier than normal, his entire demeanor somewhat terrifying, yet the words he spews entirely erotic.
He leans over me now, fists gripping the back of the couch as I sit beneath him, my legs unintentionally slipping open as one of his thighs slides against the inside of mine. I feel myself getting excited through my panties. My toes curling tightly into my shoes, my nipples suddenly awakened and aching to be touched, licked, sucked, anything. The no touching is driving me to the brink of insanity. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to wake from this sexual intoxication.
“I get fucked,” I reply, furrowing my brow as I glare back at him, but my breathy answer says anything but.
His dark, inky hair drops into his eyes, our faces inches apart. He toys with his lip ring again, clearly knowing what it does to me now.
“Like I said, I’ve heard. Literally. And no, you don’t.” He tips his head to the side. “Bet you wanna know what this feels like against you.” He flicks his tongue against the ring again. “I see you looking at it all the time.”
“Because it’s repulsive,” I counter, lying.
“I beg to differ. I think you want to see what it’s like to wrap those soft lips around it.” His lips curl into a devilish grin again.
He puts more weight on the knee onto the couch between my legs, rubbing the inside of my exposed thigh again. My aching center is begging to be rubbed by that knee. If he just leaned a little further…
Nope. I’m losing myself.
My body is entirely alive and alert in his presence, and I hate it. I can’t control this…this lust. That’s what it is. It’s lust. Lust I don’t seem to have for Patrick because we have love. It’s different. It’s better.
He leans forward, looking down at my parted lips, and I’m sure he’s going to kiss me. His hand comes up as he slowly drags his fingers along my jawline and then under my chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. It’s too much. I’m feeling too many things someone in a relationship should feel. I turn my head to the side, out of his grasp.
“I want to go home,” I say abruptly, closing my eyes tightly, wishing like Dorothy to get my ass out of here, away from this temptation. A dangerous temptation that has me questioning myself. This isn’t the place for me.
I slowly open my eyes and peek to see him paused in place with an eerie look on his face.
He straightens entirely at my words. His cocky smirk instantly drops into a somber face, almost sad for a moment, as he gazes deeply into my eyes again, trying to read me.
He turns, looking around the room, shaking his head.
“Yeah.” He nods, almost agreeing to something in his own head before running a hand through his locks. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
He walks out of the room as I sit there confused by his total switch up again. Was that part of his plan? To seduce me? Sell me out? Ruin my relationship? Friends don’t do things like this to each other. Patrick and Hawke’s relationship is confusing me more and more every day.
I get up, following out the same way he left. The couples are all still groping, touching, licking, and sucking things to the beat of the surrounding bass. There are people snorting coke off the end table, and a woman topless in the corner dancing with a handsy guy. Looking closer, I see that Lilah chick he was trying to make jealous in the other corner, still eyeing me with daggers.
My eyes find Hawke in the kitchen where I see him talking to Kid again. The woman’s legs are still wrapped around his skinny waist on the couch, her mouth on his tatted neck while he talks to Hawke. He grabs his keys from his back pocket and tosses them to him.
Hawke starts towards the door, giving me a nod to follow. Internally groaning, I clench my jaw, hating the way he expects me to just follow a head nod.
We get into the car as the scowl takes over my face.
What a bullshit night.
I’m mad at Hawke for bringing me here to use me then embarrass me, I’m mad at myself for even agreeing to come, and I’m mad at Patrick for leaving me when he could’ve prevented this entire evening from happening by just being home with me on my night off.
I see Hawke peer over at me from the corner of my vision. I roll my eyes and lean my head against the window. The drive couldn’t take any longer and I swear he’s never driven so slowly in his entire life. The silence is deafening and I’m counting the seconds until I can get out of this vehicle with him. His presence is just…aggravating.
He toys with me, teases me, does things to get a reaction, then leaves me feeling all awkward and self-conscious for having one. It’s strange. What’s the intention?
I check my phone to see if Patrick texted me yet, and my heart skips a beat when I see he did.
Patrick: Sorry baby, it’s going to be a late night. Might just crash at my parents. Still here, working through files.
I read the text and let out a whiny groan, causing Hawke to look my way again. I drop my head back against the window until we get back.
As he pulls into the driveway, I grab the handle to the door, ready to pull it open before the car even stops. I can’t get out of here fast enough.
“Cole,” he says in a raspy tone.
I close my eyes, not wanting to turn and look at him.
“Cole, I’m sorry,” he whispers in a peculiar tone. Different from the one used at the cabin.
What he’s apologizing for, I’m not even sure anymore. Who knows? Who cares? I’m too grown for kid’s games.
I just continue pushing the door open, leaving him behind me while I open the front door and make my way to my bedroom.
Collapsing onto my bed, the tears follow shortly after. I feel guilty for how I felt under his gaze; I feel sad for being used to provoke someone else; I feel strange for enjoying being in that private space with Hawke, liking how it made my body feel alive. Something about me just feels totally off with what happened. I can’t even begin to describe it. All I know is I wish things could go back to being easy again. Less complicated, less…weird.
I finally hear Hawke enter the house, listening for his footsteps as he walks towards my door.
I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t knock or say anything. And thankfully he doesn’t. The footsteps pause, then fade away, just like the vision of the fun night I thought I could have by myself.
A weird part of me wants to know why he’s sorry. A part wants to know what he processed in that room when he turned off the seduction real fast and became a sad version of himself. The other part of me doesn’t want to care at all.
He’s an ex-convict, a liar, a manwhore, a manipulator, and who knows what else. He’s proving that to me day by day.
I attempt to sleep this night off and hope that tomorrow brings some sort of clarity.
Clarity I desperately need.
