Find Me Alastar

by T L Swan

  “So, tell me about Canada?” I smile.

  Philip starts to ramble on about Canada. He’s really very tipsy and seems to be repeating himself over and over again. I want to escape, but Brielle seems to be having the most interesting conversation of her life. Ugh!

  I look back over to the blue Smirnoff area in search of something interesting to look at and I frown. Holy shit! It’s him—the guy from the shop.

  Mr. Twinkle.

  He’s sitting, talking to two men and three women, and he throws his head back to laugh out loud at something one of the women just said. I watch him as everyone else in the club seems to disappear. He’s wearing a tight fitting black V-neck jumper and blue jeans. His dark, wavy hair is just long enough to be tucked behind one ear. He’s a damn fine specimen, but why did he have to be such an arrogant ass?

  He lifts his drink to his lips and smiles into it as someone says something, and he says something and the whole group burst out laughing. What’s he saying?

  “Have you ever had an orgy?”

  “Huh?” I frown as my eyes flicker back to the imbecile in front of me who winks like the devil himself. Oh God, just sod off. “No,” I reply, deadpan. I really need to get rid of this fool.

  “But, you always wanted to right?” he asks loudly.

  Brielle overhears what he says and turns her nose up at me and I subtly shake my head in disgust. For Pete’s sake, now he’s just grossing me out. I literally cannot think of anything worse than being banged by him and his mates.

  Twenty minutes later, when I finally get a break from gross boy, my eyes travel back to who I really want to look at, sitting on the lounger like he’s my missing magnet piece. Star. His name sounds exotic… a bit like him. My memory goes back to the shop and the sound of his deeper than deep accented voice. I can’t say I have ever noticed a man’s voice before as being something I found attractive, but his voice was like a calling card to seduction hell. The others in his group have now left and Star is talking to a girl in a tight black dress. He’s sitting forward in his chair and she is seated in front of him on a stool. I can tell by her body language she is totally into him, and I can tell by his body language he is a confident bastard who is probably into her. I look away, annoyed with myself. He would be a love them for one night and leave them type of guy. I’m not that kind of girl. I like to think I am, but the reality is I’ve never had a one-night stand, although the thought of it is hot and something very high on my bucket list. I’m not sure I could ever actually go through with it, though. My heart is way bigger than my brain. Mr. Dickhead keeps talking about everything Canada related, but I can’t pry my eyes away from Mr. Star in the corner, and for ten minutes I watch him without being noticed. He turns as he tips his drink back to drain it, and his eyes meet mine in a flash. He raises a brow sarcastically at me.

  Fuck.

  I snap out of it, pulling my stare away from him. Shit! Oh, man. Busted.

  “W-wh… what… w-where did you say you are going after this?” I ask the gangbanger nervously, trying to make myself appear interested all of a sudden.

  “France. We go tomorrow.” He smiles at my sudden interest in his babbling. “Tonight is our last night here.” He winks and I have to hide my horror. He can’t really think he is in with a chance here, can he?

  I swear I can feel the heat of someone’s stare on the back of my neck. Is Twinkle looking at me? I glance back and see that he is sitting relaxed in his chair glaring at me. I nervously snap my gaze away… again. Oh, great, he’s still pissed about the ring. What an idiot! It’s my ring, how dare he? I hold my hand out and gaze lovingly at my new adornment. I’m kind of glad he tried to outbid me to be honest. I know I would have regretted not getting it in the future.

  “I… I’m getting another drink,” I stammer as I walk toward the bar. I can’t listen to the Canada guy for one minute more.

  “Hey, baby,” The cute bar guy purrs.

  I look at him deadpan. “If you are trying to turn me off, calling me baby will do it,” I reply dryly.

  “Okay. Chill, pretty lady. I got plans for us.”

  Oh God, seriously, is this international dodgy men month? I have never met so many fucktards in one week of my life. I slowly get mine and Brielle’s drinks, then return to our spot. Thankfully, she has had enough of the boys and is ready for some real fun. I glance back to the lounge where Mr. Star was sitting, but now he’s gone.

  Hmm.

  * * *

  The two girls join us and we all start talking, but I find myself, once again, detached from the conversation, I’m too busy scanning the club. Where did he go? Did he leave or is he dancing with that girl?

  “Who are you looking for?” Brielle asks.

  “That guy is here.”

  She frowns in question. “What guy?”

  “Jewelry shop jerk.” “Oh, shit.” Her eyes widen. “Did he see you?”

  “Yes, and he looked away as if he didn’t know me.”

  She frowns.

  “And he looked hot, too,” I sigh. “Typical. Every loser in the club wants to talk to me and the one guy that looks hot is a fucking idiot.”

  “Don’t worry about him. Let’s get another drink,” she murmurs with a shake of her head.

  * * *

  For the next two hours I binge drink to dull out the menagerie of bad men surrounding me, and somewhere along the way we are starting to really have fun. The girls and I are misbehaving and dancing up a treat where our group is standing. We can’t even be bothered to make it to the dance floor. I feel young and alive, and at this moment, London is going off.

  Alastar

  I stand against the wall in the darkness and watch her dance with her friends, her back to me.

  Hell.

  Why does she have to be so damn hot?

  This is unexpected.

  Wearing a white knitted dress that hugs in all the right places, she’s something I can’t pry my eyes from. Her ass, oh, the things I could do to it. I get a vision of what she would look like naked and on top of me, and I feel myself harden. I’ve been in a semi-aroused state since I met her in that shop just two days ago.

  Fuck. I drag my hand down my face in frustration.

  “Tell me again, why you didn’t get the ring?” Thomas asks from his place next to me as he watches her.

  I throw him a disgruntled look. Thomas is my brother, my best friend, and annoyingly, my conscience. He knew I had to get that ring yesterday. He also knows I failed my mission.

  “You know why,” I mutter.

  “I know exactly why you didn’t get it. You were too busy drooling.”

  “Fuck off.” He raises his eyebrows in question.

  I shake my head in disgust and blow out a breath. “I didn’t expect her to be such...”

  “Such what?” he asks as the song changes and she starts to bounce around to the up tempo beat.

  “Such a fucking smart ass.”

  He smirks into his drink, both of our eyes glued on her when she really starts to dance. It’s that Megan Trainer song: You too.

  If I was you

  I would want to be me, too.

  I watch her in the darkness. A smile crosses my face as her and her friends sing the words to each other like sixteen-year-olds as they bounce on the spot.

  I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.

  She turns and notices me up against the wall watching her.

  I stop breathing and a mischievous smile crosses her face. She waves with just the tips of her fingers as she dances and moves her hips seductively. She starts to point at me, and then herself as she mouths the words.

  If I was you

  I would want to me, too.

  She holds up her hand and wiggles her fingers to show me her ring – The ring I was supposed to have in my possession right now.

  I narrow my eyes and Thomas laughs out loud.

  “You’re right, she is a fucking smart ass. I could like this girl.”

  I glare at
her and she blows me a kiss before she turns her back to me and continues her seductive dancing.

  One of the dickheads she is standing with puts his arm around her and tries to dance with her and I feel my fury start to rise.

  “Fuck. I… I need to go.” I stammer.

  Thomas’s face drops and he frowns as he watches her and the guy. “Yeah, lets go man. We will go to Avery.”

  I nod. Avery is another club that we frequent. I’m not staying here and watching this. I snap, “I’m going to the bathroom. Meet you out the front.”

  “Okay, see you in ten,” Thomas replies.

  Emerson

  I have drunk way too much and with all this bouncing I need to go the ladies room.

  “Where are the bathrooms?” I ask.

  “It’s across the other side of the club, down a long corridor,” Philip slurs.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  His eyes linger on me a little longer than they should and I find myself speed walking away.

  I saunter across the club and walk down the hall. It’s dark, lit only by the spotlights above me. I run head first into a man on his way out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I exclaim as I fall back and wobble on my heels. Jeez, I need to stop drinking. I nearly fell over then.

  Warm large hands stabilize me. “Hello,” The deep voice with the Irish accent purrs. My eyes shoot up. It’s him.

  The air crackles between us. “Hello,” I whisper nervously.

  He stands me back up and puts his hands into his pockets and looks down at me defiantly. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  He smells so good.

  He is so tall that he towers over me. I didn’t notice it the other day in the shop, but his right eye is a little turned. He has large lips and a strong jaw line. This man is simply delicious.

  “Umm.” I frown. What’s that supposed to mean? “Drinking,” I reply.

  He lifts his chin as his eyes stare through me. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Men,” I blurt out, my ability to come up with an intelligent reply when put on the spot never disappoints me. Men? For frig’s sake. Of course. You idiot. I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment at my stupid comeback.

  “Who are you talking to?” I hit back on autopilot. Oh no, why did I say that?

  “That’s none of your business,” he replies.

  Huh, of all the nerve. Is he kidding? “And it’s any of your business who I talk to?”

  He folds his arms angrily in front of him and narrows his eyes but doesn’t answer.

  “Excuse me.” I go to walk around him. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  He steps to the side to let me pass and I am really getting infuriated with his attitude. I have to have the last word so I fake a smile. “Do you still want my ring?” I ask sweetly.

  He steps forward, forcing me to step back until my back is up against the wall.

  He towers over me and bends down to whisper in my ear. I feel his breath on my neck and the heat of his large body up against mine causes goose bumps to scatter up my arms.

  “Oh, I still want it,” he whispers, His lips dust the edge of my lobe before he purposely blows into my ear as he speaks. “In more ways than one.” He licks his lips for effect and I get tingles all the way down to my stomach.

  Dear, God, I feel myself go weak. My eyes search his and I frown. Is he being sarcastic? My eyes instinctively flutter to his lips. Is he going to kiss me?

  His dark eyes hold mine when I look back up at him.

  Kiss me.

  His eyes drop to my lips and then back up to my eyes.

  Kiss me, damn it.

  He steps back and my heart falls.

  His eyes hold mine. “Goodbye, Emmaline.”

  I open my mouth to tell him that that isn’t my name but before I can he is striding toward the exit.

  I stand dumfounded on the spot as I watch him disappear down the corridor.

  Holy shit. Mr. Star is hot.

  * * *

  For the rest of the night I am totally distracted with thoughts of that divine creature. That deep voice. That dreamy smell. That bloody hot arrogance. He left not long after I saw him near the bathroom. Now it’s 4.00 am and Brielle and I are on our way to the cab rank on our own. The boys left a couple of hours ago with the American girls, leaving us to dance up a storm for the rest of the night. The streets are full of people on their way home from their night out and the sound of drunken laughter echoes all around.

  “It’s freezing.” Brielle shivers as she wraps her coat around her. “If you guys were gentlemen you would give us the first cab,” she murmurs to the group of guys in front of us.

  “The only way you are having my cab is if you are coming home with me and you plan on sucking my dick to thank me,” the smart ass in front replies.

  “Dream on, loser!” Brielle snaps. “I would bite the fucking thing off.”

  I smirk as I search Facebook for the fifteenth time tonight, typing in his name, once again.

  Star

  Nothing comes up. I got nothing. My stalking skills are totally shit.

  Who are you?

  I hate that I can’t find him. I must be typing in the wrong name, I wish I could remember how it was spelt.

  A group of men are walking down the road toward the cab rank and as they draw closer, I see a familiar tall figure among them. That’s when I see that the second man on the right is him. My heart starts to beat in excitement. Oh, I need to get a grip. This is beyond pale. He’s a pig, remember, you fool? His eyes meet mine, never breaking contact as he stares at me while the group walks past us. My eyes follow him as he crosses the street to walk off in the other direction. Deflation fills me. It figures. Of course he doesn’t even want to talk to me.

  Star stops mid-step for a moment, his back to me, pausing as if thinking, and I find myself holding my breath. What is he doing?

  Then, suddenly, he turns and walks back to the cab rank, coming right up to me, and I stop breathing completely.

  He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, all suction all domination, and I feel as though my feet are about to lift off the ground.

  The other people all lined up in the cab line start to cheer at his bold move.

  The earth stops and he kisses me again, gently sliding his tongue between my lips.

  He pulls back and looks at me, then turns and walks away without saying a single word.

  I stand frozen on the spot as I watch him turn the corner, disappearing into the darkness.

  “What the hell was that?” Brielle whispers.

  I shake my head. I have no words; nothing that makes sense anyway.

  “He can’t just kiss you when he feels like it and then walk away. What an arrogant twat,” she whispers, outraged.

  I smile at the darkness that he disappeared into.

  “Apparently, he can,” I smirk.

  “What are you smiling at?” Brielle frowns.

  I raise my fingertips and run them over my buzzing lips. Did that really just happen?

  “The man can kiss,” I whisper through my smile. “The man can definitely kiss.”

  Chapter 4

  I stand behind her watching as she brushes her hair in the mirror. She places the hairbrush down onto the dresser and carefully braids her hair in preparation for bed. She’s happy, so happy. The smile is beaming from her face and it’s as if I can feel it. A huge smile crosses my face. Oh, it’s a good day for her.

  * * *

  Why? Why is she so happy?

  * * *

  Do I know why?

  * * *

  I frown as I try to remember. Yes, I do. He spoke to her today. His longing glances turned into a conversation. Just a few words from him mean so much. She smiles at herself in the mirror and I find my own smile reflecting hers. She finishes her hair, turns down her bed and blows out her lantern. The room falls dark and yet I still feel her smiling into the darkness, her happiness filling the room.

  Emerson

 
I wake with a jump as the gentle sun beams on my face through the fine curtains in my bedroom, and I sit up in a rush.

  What was that? Shit.

  A dream—a weird, realistic dream about a young girl with long dark hair and beautiful pale skin. It must have been a long time ago based on the nightdress she wore. What a weird thing for me to dream of? I sit for a moment to try and clear the memory of the beautiful girl, running my fingertips over my lips. I smile softly to myself. I have been floating on air since Mr. Twinkle kissed me last night. In fact, I don’t remember ever being this excited over a random one-off kiss from a stranger. It’s only early, but for some reason I am buzzing and I don’t feel hung over or tired at all. I can hear Hank and Vanessa talking in the lounge room before I make my way out to them.

  “Good morning.” I smile as I scratch my hair. I’m wearing flannelette pajamas and it is so refreshing that I am not self-conscious this early in our new friendship.

  “Hey,” Vanessa calls from the laundry room.

  “How was your night?” Hank asks from his place on the floor as he watches cartoons. He is wearing his standard Tiger stripe satin boxer shorts and a daggy t-shirt. I smile as I look down at him with his head propped up on a pillow watching television. Hank has sandy blonde hair that isn’t really in a style, just overgrown. He has facial hair that isn’t really a beard, either, just overgrown whiskers, and he is really thin and tall. He’s so dorky that he has actually crossed over to super trendy.