She's a walking disaster, and he's got a mind to fix her.
I don't know why I was so attracted to him, really. It could have been anything. His hair falling just so along his jawline, as if they were working in some silent agreement. The way he could scrutinize everything at once, but at the same time, make you feel like you were the only one in the room when he was next to you. The way his body was posed, so relaxed and open, his arm stretched out accross the top of the couch, boasted a confidence that I could only dream of possessing. He laughed at a joke one of his seemingly endless supply of friends had told him. It was an easy, carefree laugh, to go with his easy, carefree manner.
Why was I here? I didn't belong here.
It was Dawn's idea in the first place, to go to this house party. And now, four beers into the night, I was starting to get to that point that I always got to when I drank. I wasn't a happy drunk. Well, I wasn't even a happy person. And drinking never helped. But that didn't stop me from pounding shot after shot of some liquid that burned my throat as it went down and tasted like shit. Probably 151, but it could have been fucking gasoline for all I cared. I wanted to get drunk. Then maybe I wouldn't fucking remember a thing when I woke up. If I was lucky.
When I was lucky I would wake up the next morning with nothing but a piercing headache, and a God-awful taste in my mouth to remind me of the activities I had taken part in the night before. I never wanted to remember how ridiculous I was, or what happened when I was drunk. And I kept hoping, maybe secretly, maybe not, that one morning I'd be really lucky and not wake up at all. No hangover, no nothing.
But I was never that lucky anyway.
I could feel his eyes on me as he approached the kitchen counter where I had just put back my fifth,consecutive shot of the night. Dawn was supposed to be regulating my alcoholic beverages, but she had found some "super-cute" guy, and was probably off somewhere fucking, or at least getting to third base. She shouldn't have left me alone. I knew it.
"You know, for such a small thing, you can really hold your liquor." It was a statement, with no hint of a question whatsoever. Like he was impressed. Or like he wasn't.
"Well, let's just say I'm a girl of many talents." Funny the things you can say when you have the right, uh, encouragement.
He seemed unsure of whether or not he was supposed to laugh. So he chuckled, not the same laugh that he used when his friends were talking to him, but something deeper, something more masculine. Something that made me so incredibly in lust with him, despite the fact that I was really here to get wasted.
"I don't doubt that."
He smiled that baby-killer smile of his, and leaned in towards me, as if to be heard over the crowd. We were in the kitchen, and I could hear him just fine, but I leaned in closer anyway.
"I don't think we've met before. I'm Kurt." He held out his hand to shake mine.
Ah, now here's the moment of truth. I wasn't really looking for this tonight. Really, I wasn't. But if I didn't think that he was something, I would just give him my psuedonym -- I prefered Scarlett. Like Scarlett O'Hara. I thought it sounded unique, mysterious, sexy. It fit the character perfectly. And this was definitely her type of situation.
"Scarlett." He rolled the name off his tongue, as if testing it out. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, as he came to the conclusion that it would be a name that he could hear himself shouting as he fucked me.
Right on cue, the smile came back again.
"What are you so happy about?" I finally asked.
"What do you mean?" He looked at me quizzically, his eyes shadowed underneath his furrowed brows.
"I mean, you're fucking grinning like an idiot, that what I mean. What, can you see my tits or something?" At that, he laughed again.
"No, that would be something entirely different." He leaned closer, resting his hand on my arm. "I doubt we'd still be standing."
Fuck. He was a cocky bastard. Cocky, but so hot. And fuck, I know I said I wasn't looking for this, but I really could use it.
I wasn't about to blush as he whispered in my ear, pretending that he was the first guy to talk to me like that. We both knew where this was headed. I wasn't some naive 17 year old virgin, who'd never had a drink before. I was much easier. And I mean, he was hot. What was I supposed to do? I really didn't have anything else to do for the rest of the night anyway.
We talked for a while, pretending to be interested in each other. He wasn't as big an asshole as some of them were. But just to be on the safe side, I downed a few more. I didn't want any memory of this tomorrow. He lead me to his room. After that, I really don't remember.
What can I say? I'm good at what I do.