Wreck (Sphere of Irony 4)
My eyes laser in on the smooth skin of Abby’s neck. With her long blonde hair pulled up on her head, the tan expanse is mouthwatering. The desire to walk over there, grab her in my arms, and suck on that spot until I leave a mark claiming her as mine, is nearly impossible to ignore. I clench my hands, my fingernails digging into my calloused palms, and slowly approach the group.
Abby’s back is to me, but I can tell she senses my approach. Her shoulders snap back and her spine becomes rigid. The others continue talking as Abby’s head turns toward me, bright blue eyes connecting with mine. I freeze in place, still a few feet away, pinned down by the intensity of her gaze.
One look at her and my heart kicks into overdrive. Just being near her affects me in a way I’ve never felt before.
Mine!
The thought surprises me as it roars through my mind yet again. I tear my eyes from hers, not wanting Abby to see how fucked up I am. Instead, I drop my gaze down her body and my head nearly explodes with lust.
Jesus. She’s trying to kill me.
The tight, navy minidress she’s wearing should be declared illegal. I have to fight back the urge to throw my jacket over her so no one else can see all of the beautiful tan skin exposed by the tiny scrap of fabric. Then her legs… fuck. Abby has long, toned legs I can easily imagine wrapped around my waist as I sink my cock into her. To top it off, she’s wearing silver stiletto sandals that show off her tight ass perfectly.
I can’t speak. Right now, all of my attention is focused on trying to redirect blood from the hard-on that’s currently pressing against the zipper of my jeans. Note to self, wear looser jeans. Because my mind is currently in the gutter, Abby is the one to break the silence.
“You guys were good.” She tucks an escaped strand of blonde hair behind one ear and gives me a timid smile.
“Thanks. You going with us? To the club, I mean. The party. It’s a party for another band but their record label invited us.”
Holy shit. Shut up, Hawke!
I’m rambling on and on like a total idiot to distract me from yanking Abby into the bathroom and fucking her into next week. Abby’s brows pull together for a brief moment before she answers.
“Yes. Kate asked me to go so she’d have someone non-industry with her.” Abby’s cheeks turn a beautiful pink and she ducks her head, avoiding eye contact. While I’m glad she’s not trying to suss out my secrets, I want to grab her chin and force her to look at me so I can see if she wants me as much as I want her.
“Cool.”
Well done, Hawke. Well done. Round of applause for worst conversation ever.
Dax claps his hands together loudly, saving me from making any more of an ass of myself than I already have.
“Let’s go! The taxis are here.”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for a night of what’s sure to be pure torture.
* *
*
“Tell me how you met everyone,” Abby asks as she sips from her bizarre, hot pink beverage.
After downing a couple of drinks, I managed to gather enough courage to ask Abby if she wanted to find a quiet spot to sit and talk. We discovered a couple of patio chairs with a tiny table on the terrace of the club. Far enough away from the others to be semi-private and block out the sounds of the other partygoers.
I twitch at the thought of telling Abby how I met Gavin at a mental hospital. No way am I going anywhere near that story, so I give the watered-down version. “Gavin and I met in LA and became friends. After graduation, he was going to spend a year in the UK with his mom and her family and I went with them.”
“You just up and left LA for a year?” Abby asks, incredulous.
“Yep. Anyway,” I continue so she won’t ask any questions about my family letting me leave the country with no job and no plans. “Gavin’s uncle owns a popular pub in London. Well, one day he told us we just had to hear this acoustic duo he hired to play weekends. That’s how we met Adam and Dax and the rest… you already know.” I shrug and take a big sip of my drink.
“Wow. And Kate was able to come on a soccer scholarship so everyone was here in LA together?” Abby grins and puts her empty glass on the table. “That’s incredible.”
I don’t mention Adam’s ex, Ellie, who was supposed to come to UCLA with us, but broke up with him over the phone instead. The whole incident effectively turned him into a shell of the man he used to be. I know exactly how he feels.
We talk about movies, music, Abby’s classes, anything and everything except our families. Both of us, it seems, carefully tiptoe around the subject, which I’m grateful for.
“Hey, there you are!” Kate weaves through the other guests on the terrace to reach our little corner of carved-out space. “Everyone’s leaving soon. Just giving you two a heads up.” Her eyes flick from me to Abby and back. I can practically see her gears turning, trying to piece together what’s going on between us.
Knowing Kate, she’ll waste no time warning Abby away from me as soon as they’re back to their apartment. And why shouldn’t she? I’m no good for Abby. I’m no good for anyone.