(Untitled)

[shewaswarned]

She hasn't been able to sleep straight through the night in months

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[bloodycrescents]

The women on this island are mindblowingly beautiful. It's a fact I can't escape. One I don't try hard to, because it's torturous, but I can't want it to stop. If the schoolgirls waiting for the bus drove me crazy back home, this seems like the price to pay for already being out of my mind

[bloodycrescents]

I'm still watching her mouth when she looks back at me. It's impossible to look elsewhere when she does things like that, when her lips are full and pink and I can only think of having them on me, anywhere at all, her cheeks flushing. It's warm out, I'm warm, even having left my dad's jacket in the hut for once

[shewaswarned]

I've resumed the pressure of the pick, the light pinprick of contact against my lower lip, pushing just hard enough for it to hurt a little but not enough to draw blood. It's not sharp enough for that, not really, but there's a part of me that wants to know what it would feel like if it did, breaking past the first layer and then the drop of salty red that would blossom, lingering there until I sucked it away. But then I start thinking about the blood, all of the blood, David's blood over me, covering my hands, my clothes, running down the city streets with nothing but a coat covering blood and skin and silk, and I frown in thought, dropping the pick on the bar and resting my hand against the wooden surface instead, its top mottled by age and use. It's seen more patrons than just the two of us in all the years it's been here, enough time for someone to take a knife, to smash a bottle, to stumble and catch themselves against the leverage of its edges

[bloodycrescents]

I'm torn between telling her no, I'm not willing, and begging her to let me. Telling her my plans are to keep on taking advantage of the free drinks and her company, but my hopes are a lot more carnal, but I'm kind of afraid if I let out a hint of that, I'd wind up begging for that, too. There's a time and a place for pride, but when I can see enough of her thigh to make me think I might have a little trouble walking anywhere with her just now, I can't remember when and where.

"A few drinks and a walk on the beach," I tell her with a self-conscious smile. Don't laugh, don't laugh. There are nights I barely sleep anyway, nights I can't sleep. Spending this one trailing after her like a lost hunting dog doesn't seem like a bad idea. Even if it did, I've had worse. "If - if you don't mind the company."

[shewaswarned]

"Good." I absently glance down at the contents of the glass, trying to gauge how much is left and whether or not I should even risk having another. This is, what, my third or fourth at this point, and the vodka's strong - some island-distilled version, most likely, and I'm starting to feel it in my head, my skin. It almost feels like the heat is emanating from my body strong enough to burn through the damn dress itself. This is when the impulse control starts to shatter. This is when I would be calling Wes' number or even just showing up at his apartment unannounced, kissing him until neither of us could breathe and barely making it into his bed.

I know my cheeks are flushed from the memory and the drinks, but I try to disguise it with a soft clearing of my throat as I glance over at him, nodding once. "No, I promise I don't mind. It's probably better I have someone to supervise. They say you shouldn't try to go swimming after you've been drinking," I add, chuckling low. "And I'd hate to get this dress wet."

[bloodycrescents]

I let out a laugh, glancing at my own empty glass, nodding to the bartender for another. It's easier to laugh tonight, to smile. It's not the alcohol either. I've had more than this before, including back home the day I arrived, and I know I laughed a lot when I went to see Uncle Mike, but it wasn't because anything was funny, it was because it wasn't. Isn't. Sitting here in the warmly lit bar, soaking in the pleasant heat of the beer and her company, though, for a few minutes I can almost forget I'm me. I wonder briefly if my life could have been like this if I'd been born somewhere else to someone else. But then, I never would have been at all, I guess. We get the cards we're dealt and we play them the best we can

[shewaswarned]

"Good. That takes a load off my mind," I declare, an exaggerated grin making it past my lips seconds before I wind up taking another sip from my glass. There's less left than I originally realized; there always is with these kinds of drinks, they're deceptively full until they are, and by the time you figure it out they're gone already, leaving nothing but the lingering taste of olives and the stronger taste of vodka in their wake - or any other flavors that have entered the mix, especially with one of those girlier-looking martinis with some ridiculously fruity garnish.

"One more," I decide out loud, lifting my index finger to indicate. I know I'm nudging the barrier between tipsy and sloppy, but I can tread it a little while longer. I just have to take this next drink slowly so as not to test my limits beyond what I can handle. The flush in my cheeks might as well be permanent at this point, but maybe if I ignore it, it'll fade on its own. Wishful thinking, another part of me says, but I push that down as readily as I bury

[bloodycrescents]

It's like blanket permission to look. Not that I need it, but I take it anyway, glancing down to the shoes in question, gaze following the contours of her leg on up to her thigh, the curve of her waist, the curve of her tits. The shoes are impractical, yeah, in a place like this, but I'm not going to say so. If she can handle them, good for her, because I don't know how anyone would in a place that's half sand. I wouldn't change a thing about the dress unless it was because she let me take it off of her.

I shake my head. "You don't look ridiculous," I tell her and it's not just that I'm trying, however badly, to hit on her. It's just a fact. "You look beautiful."

There's a part of me expecting to get slapped every other second, but I don't flinch away, I just brace myself for it. She can't deal out any worse than I've received before. She doesn't seem to mind me talking, but women are hard enough to figure out before they start drinking and I can't ever read the signals right.

[shewaswarned]

I turn back to the bar just in time to catch the delivery of my fourth (and likely last, at this juncture) drink, but there's a shifting in my periphery that I can't figure out, and for a moment I can swear I feel eyes on me. There's the feeling I get when I know I'm being watched, a tingling that starts at the base of my spine and ripples upward, but this time it doesn't leave me with a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach and I wonder if it should

[bloodycrescents]

I never understand how a girl like her can't know it. I mean, not that I've really known anyone like her, but she's gorgeous. Dark hair and dark eyes, an incredible body. She's probably brilliant and successful, too, coming from a world completely apart from my own, even if it's in the same universe. She probably went to college somewhere impressive and usually walks around in those heels like they're her bare feet. It's a simple compliment, but she means that thank you, and I don't know why guys aren't falling all over themselves to tell her the same thing all the time

[shewaswarned]

I might be the younger sister, but somehow I turned out to be the responsible one in the family. That being said, you'd never guess it by the way my life managed to take such an abrupt turn from Carrie's. She was the one who married first, who got pregnant first. Then again, I would've probably been married by now if it hadn't been for my involvement in the Frobisher case. Sometimes I think I'm turning more into Patty with every day that passes, each time I choose my career over anything else. I could've had Carrie's life, her marriage. But I wouldn't have any of this now. It doesn't stop me from weighing my choices when I allow myself to stop and think about it

[bloodycrescents]

I swallow hard to get the sip of beer down and wind up almost choking anyway, setting the beer down as I try to school my face, but now all I can think about is taking it off her and all the bare skin underneath. Like I wasn't already imagining that. I couldn't look more ridiculous if I tried, I'm pretty sure, and then I realize that she might not even mean that literally, because it's not like she could walk around in public like that, but I'm pretty sure there being not much left could only help.

"I'm sorry," I say, realizing I've been spluttering, passing the back of my hand over my mouth. I'm pretty sure honesty about things like this only gets a guy slapped, but I've got a decent buzz going and the way she smiles makes me feel like I'm gonna lose my mind. "I thought for a second you were talking literally and I - uh. But I'm sure that's not true." She's a lot more than a dress, but I'm afraid if I try to find out how much more, I'll lose the nerve I've been working up.

[shewaswarned]

I know I'm probably supposed to be embarrassed about my unintended double entendre, but all I can do is laugh at the accidental gaffe - if I could even call it that at all. His face is completely devoid of any color at this point, and for a moment I do experience a flash of guilt over having unintentionally startled him that way. But then the guilt is replaced by concern when he starts coughing, trying to recover, and I lean towards him, resting a hand on his forearm.

"You're okay?" I ask him, hoping he remembers to start breathing again. Seeing him that pale isn't proving to do anything but dredge up some memories, and I'm just grateful that neither one of us has started bleeding at any point thus far tonight. "You're white as a sheet." He isn't cold, though; I can feel that much under my hand, my thumb rounding over the outer bone of his wrist.

[bloodycrescents]

I don't know, I think, remembering Thalia like a flash, the edge of concern in her expression before it ran, the brush of her fingertips over my cheek. Ellen's touch is gentle, but more definite. I'm not imagining it, couldn't be, the way I still feel I imagined Thalia's hand like a ghost against my skin. For whatever reason, maybe because we're both edging past tipsy or because we don't know each other and I'm not giving anything up, Ellen's not scared of me or bothered. I wonder what it means that Thalia might be, that I can spook something under that iron exterior. But I know what it means. There's something dangerous about giving a damn about someone and, I don't know how, but she does

[shewaswarned]

I withdraw my hand with a curl of my fingers, tucking them in against my palm until I have a loosely closed fist resting on top of the bar for a few seconds, and then my hand drops back down into my lap as I reach for my drink with the other. It only takes a sip and a half to down the rest and my head is swimming for a myriad of reasons as I nudge the empty glass across the bar, away from myself. He says he's fine, but I'm starting to feel a little cramped, the way I do when I'm cooped-up and need the sensation of a breeze on my face, need the open spaces to feel less confined, so really, my next suggestion is as much for me as it is an extended invitation to him. Maybe even moreso

[bloodycrescents]

I wait a moment more as she stands, partly to watch her, partly to make sure she doesn't wind up toppling over. If I haven't fucked this up, if she still wants me to come with her, then nothing's going to keep me from following along. Leaving what little's left of my beer, I get to my feet. There's always more of that, but girls like this don't come along often, not even here.

"Sure," I say, hoping I don't sound too eager. I can't remember ever actually letting a girl take my arm, but I hold mine out to her, elbow crooked, the way people do in movies and shit. I'm not like my sisters, I can't spend the whole day parked in front of a TV, but I've picked up enough. "Can you walk okay in those?"