Someone Out There Loves You

*Chloe POV*

I hated the way Andrea and Macy were beaming at me, like two high school teenagers goading me with ‘I know something you don’t know’ expressions on their flawless, perfectly made up faces. It made me want to giggle; not a nice girly giggle but one filled with anxiety and paranoia that I used when I was nervous. Their devious smiles were nothing to be brushed off. They were determined to reach their goal tonight. I give them a pleading look, wishing they would do something to take me away from this awkward situation. It was the closest I had ever been to hell on earth. I was sitting beside a gorgeous man, who was watching me with interest as he waited for me to speak. A gorgeous man who I was certain only wanted one thing, and one thing only. This was exactly the kind of man I wanted to avoid for the rest of my usually quite pleasant solitary existence. He was the kind of man who, if given enough time, would get my panties down without a second thought. I was afraid that if given enough time I would want him to get them off, before screwing my brains out to the point where I couldn’t walk for days. It had been so long since I last had sex that I could feel myself was responding to his warm body that was pressed up oh so closely to mine, greedily taking in his scent and making me throb with want. That wasn’t an exaggeration. I was literally throbbing with the need to get laid.

​​​My mind couldn’t be defeated so easily. I refused to let my sex crazed hormones get the best of me. Celibacy wasn’t an option I had willing chosen at first, but after two years I had gotten used to it. It was like an old friend who was familiar and didn’t have any expectations. There was no demand from celibacy, no invested feelings that may get hurt. Celibacy and I had gotten along so well over the last two years, and hell if I was going to let this man change that. I was nothing if not loyal.

​​​‘There’s not much to tell’ I told him bluntly, wishing I could just turn on the bitch switch like Macy could but I had been raised better than that. Being a bitch would really work in my favour right now, enabling me to be nasty and spiteful without feeling bad about it. I didn’t know this guy but I would still walk away feeling like shit if I acted as anything but nice. Manners were important, or so my parents taught me. Nobody deserves to be treated with badness, even if they were eyeing you like a piece of meat.

​​​‘I’m sure that’s not true’ he replied, his voice low with charm and ease, flashing me a smile that he obviously thought was sexy. Which it was, it totally was but, that only increased my annoyance. The ease with which he spoke made me wonder what exactly it was that Andrea had said to him. Had she told him I was a guaranteed lay? I wouldn’t put it past her to do something so humiliating and demeaning to me but I still wondered if she would really do something so dire to get me laid.

​​​I shrugged, taking a sip of my cocktail with false nonchalance to avoid saying any more. He smelled divine, and the more I drank the more the scent invaded my senses. I hoped that by being quiet he would lose interest. After all, nobody liked a quiet, meek redhead who shut down when you tried to talk to them. I avoided his gaze, which was focused on me as I took an extra long sip of the strawberry alcoholic goodness.

​​​‘You’re a shy one, aren’t you?’ he chuckled in amusement at his observation. He didn’t seem to be put off by it yet, but it would take a little time. The awkward conversation would piss him off eventually.

​​​‘Not really, I’m just not loud and obnoxious like my friends’ I spoke loudly enough for Andrea and Macy to hear, passive aggressively informing them of my anger at the situation they had put me in.

​​​‘Well, you know what they say about the quiet ones’ he smirked, winking at me and making my cheeks burn red underneath my plastered make up in anger. His arrogance was just underneath the surface, it radiated off him and it rubbed me up the wrong way. He was charming, suave, appealing and he knew it. Something told me this guy had a pretty good reading of me already, and he knew how to push my buttons. I was certain this guy must be a model or a small time actor by the confidence he possessed. He was sitting beside me, pretty much pressed up beside me, and he showed no signs of awkwardness. How could someone be so confident, be so sure of themselves and their ability to get what they want? He was certain he would get what he wanted from me. Perhaps if he seemed less sure of himself, and I had consumed enough alcohol, I might be willing to give it to him. But the mischievous twinkle in his eyes coupled with the false flattery made sure he was getting nothing from me. Even if he was hot.

​​​‘I’m not quiet, just socially awkward and not at all interested in false compliments from over confident men.’ I responded with a tight smile, restraining myself from being overly rude. His forwardness was putting me on edge and raising my defences.

​​​‘Ouch. So tell me, what are you into then?’ He asked, ignoring my comment.

​​​I sighed, swirling the straw in my cocktail glass to avoid looking at his pretty face which was too pleasant a sight to look at. He might be an overconfident ass, but he was an attractive one.

​​​‘Reading mostly I suppose, watching movies and television as well… anything that doesn’t take up too much of my time.’

​​​‘Anti-social, I like it. I’m not the most social person myself; I’m more into comics and drawing.’

​​​That took me by surprise. He didn’t strike me as an artistic kind of person. Artists were supposed to be introverted, serious and moody. This guy was the total opposite of that. He was open and engaging, and completely contradictory to the statement he made. His clothes were tight and showed off his toned physique, revealing confidence in his appearance. I narrowed my eyes, suspicious and disbelieving. It wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that he would lie to get what he wanted. In fact, it was what most men did and I saw no reason for him to be an exception to this. He was trying to figure me out, to find the chink in my armour that would let his charm sink through and get my panties down for him.

​​​‘You don’t strike me as the artistic type’ I challenged.

​​​‘I spent four years in Art College. I’m a qualified cartoonist if you must know.’

​​​‘Where did you go?’

​​​‘School of Visual Arts.’

​​​‘Impressive’ I murmured. ‘What’s it like being a cartoonist?’

​​​‘It’s fun, but it’s a hard industry to get into. There’re lots of internships and long hours to boot before you get anywhere. It’s why my ex broke up with me. She didn’t think I would make it and I quote “I don’t want a starving artist for a boyfriend” ’

​​​That got my attention. I realised too soon that he was aiming for exactly that, his passive face faltering for a second as a smirk of triumph twitched on his lips. He was good, going for the sympathy vote in hopes of getting laid. I wouldn’t be that easily fooled, even if I felt a slight twinge of sympathy.

​​​‘You think yours is bad? Mine told me I made him believe I was fat as his defence when I caught him cheating on me with a friend of mine from college.’

​​​He raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a blunt response.

​​​‘Okay, you win in the shittiest ex department. Bet I beat you in the most embarrassing college story though.’ His charming smile was back.

​​​‘Oh please. One night I got so drunk at a frat party I believed a group of guys who told me the bathroom light was a clap activated light. I clapped for ages before I realised they were listening through the door and laughing at me. After that night I swore never to drink tequila again.’

He snorted.

​​​‘I went into class drunk one time and I puked in front of about fifty people. It was the first week of freshmen year and I was known as “the puke dude” for the next four years by the entire campus of SVA.’

​​​I tried to fight it. I really did, but the expression on his face made me laugh. It was a mixture of embarrassment, shame and disgust at the memory that still caused him discomfort to think about. I could see the little light of triumph behind his eyes when the chuckle escaped from me, unbidden. He thought he was breaking through my barrier. If he thought that by telling me a couple of amusing stories and a sob tale that he could break down the wall of steel I’d built…well, maybe he was right. I did feel my resolve weakening as the laughter continued to flow from my lips. I shouldn’t have found the story as funny as I did, but with a large amount of alcohol in my system my sense of what was funny and what wasn’t got skewed. I blame the alcohol for the way my body started to relax once my laughter dissipated. It was the only reason for why I couldn’t pull myself together after one funny story.

​​​‘Oh my God, okay fine. You win that round.’ I admitted defeat, taking another sip of my cocktail in an effort to calm my laughter down.

​​​I would love to say that I recovered my will power after that, that his ability to make me laugh didn’t have an effect on me but, I was enraptured after that. I went into some kind of teenage girl mode that overrode my common sense, my logic and what little pride and self preservation I had built up over the years. I was more intoxicated than I realised, and even though I wasn’t falling about the place I was definitely drunk. I wasn’t aware of the fact that my glass was never empty, thanks to the very large pitcher of strawberry daiquiri Macy and Andrea used to refill my glass when I wasn’t looking. All I could do was listen to his every word as we talk about everything. His voice was made for telling stories, and he had a way with words so that everything flowed from his lips. He never hesitated, never stumbled for a word. His confidence, which at first was a source of aggravation, was what kept me focused on him, and him alone for the rest of the night. The thing was, the more alcohol I consumed, the more I could see that there was more to him than the over confidence, the sex appeal and the charm. I could see all that for the façade it was, or maybe it was just something that I wanted to see, to justify the fact that I wanted him more than I wanted anybody in a long time. There was a longing in him; I could see it in his eyes. There was a light there that was so dulled it was hard to see, whether from heartbreak or from something else I didn’t know. All I knew is that I could see it, and I identified with the feeling. It was the same emotion I carried every day with the acknowledgement that I would always be alone. I couldn’t trust enough to ever pledge myself to somebody; the ability to trust had been smashed to pieces long ago. That meant I would never be able to open myself up to the possibility of finding love, or sharing my life with somebody. Gerard had that same acceptance about him. It’s hard to pin point how I could see it, but I could just sense it and once I noticed it, it was glaringly obvious. Strangely, it made me trust him more. Words were false, easy to twist and had the ability to wound deeply. Body language, and the hidden depths in a person’s eyes, that was where the truth of who a person really was, where it was kept and safe guarded in the hope nobody else could see through you. After I had consumed half the pitcher of daiquiri, and he had a few more bottles of beer, the façade he had seemed to slip away; revealing the real him. After a while, I began to realise that this guy was just as broken as I was. Maybe that was why I wasn’t too annoyed when I realised that Macy and Andrea had slipped away unnoticed, leaving us alone in our own wee bubble, unaffected by everything that was going on around us. I checked my phone to find a text from Andrea.

​​​‘Apartment is all your tonight, make good use of it x’

​​​I wanted to be angry and annoyed at the obvious set up. I wanted to be angry that they abandoned me, leaving me in the hands of a guy who for all intents and purposes was a stranger, but instead I found my stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation. Gerard was practically wrapped around me we were that close; our hips, thighs and arms touching and his scent was as potent as ever with every inhale of oxygen I took in.

​​​‘Is everything alright?’ Gerard asked, a little smirk informing me that he had read the message over my shoulder. The blush that had taken over my cheeks earlier returned in full force, only this time my make up was slightly worse for wear so I was certain he could see it. I couldn’t help the tremble that racked my body when I thought about the possibilities of where tonight could lead. I wondered if I should let go of my self-imposed celibacy for one night, and just give in. I knew upfront what this was; it would be one night with a handsome guy. He made me feel attractive and for once I wanted to feel wanted. There was a doubt in the back of my mind that I was picking up all the signals wrong; maybe he was just overly friendly, or perhaps I had turned him off during the course of the night. My make up wasn’t as neat now, he would see my flaws.

​​​‘The girls headed off, they probably went to see their boyfriends’ I offered an awkward smile, my alcohol infused body making it impossible to hide my emotions and desire. My body was heating up again, my awareness of my proximity to Gerard’s body increasing tenfold since I read the message. My skin wasn’t the only thing that seemed to heat up; Gerard’s gaze was hot and piercing. My mouth dried up and I instinctively swallowed to bring some moisture back. It didn’t work as Gerard mouth leaned toward my ear, his warm breath tickling my ear.

​​​‘Maybe I should take you home, make sure you get there safely.’

​​​When the words left his gorgeous lips, his voice husky and filled with unspoken dirty promises, there was no way in hell I could say no.

Notes

I promise there won't be such a big gap in between this chapter and the next.

Next chapter shall get interesting :)

As always, please comment and subscribe.

Lyra