SELENA'S POV
I take a sip from my whisky and stare around the wild room. I take deep breaths and release my mind from the mental strain I'm feeling.
It's funny how loud conversations, cigarette smoke, and liquor smells can make me feel better. Is my loneliness to blame? That despite the fact that this noisy and packed place became my companion? Or perhaps it's because the sound drowns out my thoughts.
The clinking glasses, the music, and the chatter. I don't have to think for a while since everything blurs together. I don't have to pretend.
It's just people, with all their messes and complicated ways. And somehow, I feel less alone when I'm with strangers than when I'm alone in a quiet place.
The man leaned on the counter next to me and drewled, "Hey—hey, gorgeous," he winked at me. "Let me buy you a drink."
"Go away," I rolled my eyes. "I'm just trying to be nice, you look like you need a companion," He said, taking a sip of the whiskey before responding.
"I don't need you, mister!" I scoff and stood up to go, but he grabbed my arm before I could get away. "You know, you don't have to be a bitch!" He said angrily which made me angry as well.
Was I just called a bitch by him? This ugly old man's audacity!
My temper flares, and before I can think twice, I yank my arm free and slap him across the face. When I saw him try to slap me too, my eyes widened, "You little—" He raises his hand, and my breath catches. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the slap.
I opened my eyes slowly when I felt no hands on my face; all I could see was that someone had grabbed his hand and given him a shoulder pat. "That's enough," a firm, low voice said.
"Whatever," the drunk man mumbled before disappearing into the crowd.
I didn't mind him, instead, I stared at the man who's gaze locked onto mine. And the next thing I knew, we're already at the hotel room he booked.
"Stop, or you might regret this." I feel his hand slide higher up my thigh.
I laugh, mischief dancing in my eyes as I glance at his lips. Instead of answering, I reached for him, crashing my lips against his, and just as I thought, he took it as my answer. I smiled as he kissed me with the same hunger and desperation.
"You're trouble," he whispered as lips left mine, trailing down my jaw, his teeth scraping against my pulse, and I gasped, my head tilting back, giving him more access. "You're drunk," I answered, almost becoming a moan.
"Drunk enough to know exactly what I want." His lips were on mine again, urgent, demanding, which made me shiver.
The moment he lifted my top, I knew there was no stopping this now, no second thoughts.
Just us. Just this. Just the dizzy, reckless hunger pulling us under.