Alright so here goes - this one will be pretty long, I've noticed in our small ship that we have a decent amount of fantastic hookup fics but nothing with a big, long winded story behind it. I want to see if I can't do that - plus, I like torturing myself. Please keep the Petris bashing out of the comments - I know the majority of this fandom aren't into the ship, but don't ruin it for those of us that are.
I'd love feedback, if you feel I'm not portraying a character correctly or if you'd like to see something happen (or even your speculations on what will happen) - your support helps to motivate me! As of right now I have a goal to update chapters once a week, usually every Wednesday.
I wanna send out a big thanks to a href=" /users/kirbyshinigami"Jess/a and Dem for helping me out with the plot and being my betas. I adore you both. I know next to nothing about the processes one takes to become a police officer, so I have to thank Dem for all the helpful information on that, as well!
So without further adieu, let's get this started shall we?
Voorpret
(n) Pre-fun, the sense of enjoyment felt before a party or event takes place.
My fingers were poised just above the keys as a blank screen stared me down without mercy. I couldn't remember hating an inanimate object more in my life than I did in that moment. I was sure I'd been there for, at least, half of the afternoon, where I'd typed and erased ten different introductory paragraphs, but nothing had sounded right. I was slowly circling into insanity. I grunted in frustration and pushed away from the desk, pressing my palms hard against my eyes in an attempt to block out the blank paper that was taunting me. I wasn't sure what was wrong, why I was so distracted - normally I had no problem writing these types of assignments - but I just couldn't get anything that sounded words just wouldn't come out, regardless of my efforts. Finally I dropped my hands from my face and shot the computer a nasty look, as though this was all the fault of a machine, not my own shortcomings. It was a ridiculous notion, but it made me feel better.
"If you're not going to cooperate then I don't need you, anyway," I grumbled, feeling childish in my anger, before pushing the power button a little harder than necessary, just out of spite. Watching the screen turn black made me feel worse than I already did - through the reflective surface I was able to see that my door was open and I had a visitor. Great.
"Thought you were writing a paper?" I groaned at her voice, spinning my chair around to glare at the knowing face of my dearest friend and greatest annoyance, which was currently twisted into a playful smirk. It was just like her to sneak up on me in my moment of weakness.
"I was. I'm uh..I'm finished with it, now." My response was weak - I knew it and so did she, but I had nothing better to say in my defense. leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms, watching her as she let herself into my room and sat on my bed, but it was difficult to look stern while wearing bed slippers. I doubt she'd take anyone seriously in my attire - let alone me. She must have thought similarly to me, because a look of amusement filled her eyes and I knew she didn't believe me one bit. I have no idea how or why, but for as long as I'd known her, Christina had been this crazy walking lie detector who constantly called me on my bullshit. I'd grown to love it for the most part, but in moments like this it could be infuriating. She raised her brow, but didn't contradict me - instead she clasped her hands together and appeared pleased with herself. That look usually meant I wouldn't like the next words that came out of her mouth, but who knew, maybe I'd be wrong for a change, maybe she'd have some amazing words of wisdom.
"So - that means you're free now, doesn't it?"
Guess not.
The look on her face was enough to make my heart plummet down into my stomach - I was reminded, suddenly, as to why I'd been here in the first place, determined to write my paper. Alarm bells were blaring, warning me to come up with an excuse quickly, but unfortunately my brain and my mouth didn't seem to be working together, so I was left with nothing. I sighed in defeat, hanging my head. Admittedly, there was some - very small - part of me that was eager for a change of scenery. The girl in me who craved spontaneity was screaming to be let out. Maybe, I thought, I could give her what she wanted for a change. Where was the harm in it? College was nearly over for me and, sure, I'd managed to fight off the stress and the insane amount of work, but in the process I'd successfully isolated myself from any kind of social life that didn't involve studying. Since I'd started the university three and a half years ago, I'd made exactly four friends, and, while I had managed to learn a handful of my fellow classmates' names, that was as far as it went. I could sit and blame all that on a lot of things - wanting to focus on my goals, keeping up my grades, so on and so forth - but it was more than that. Maybe it was time to admit that to myself.
Somehow, I'd gone from arguing with a desktop computer to battling myself over the anxiety of being in a crowd and the disappointment of staying in once again while Christina went out and had fun. I considered, for a few moments, taking the low road and hiding indoors - in not taking risks so close to the end of the semester - it was long enough for me to know, with clear certainty, that I absolutely did not want to do that. I didn't want to be a coward for the rest of my life. Something about staying in, solely because I was afraid of what could happen, made me feel like I was betraying someone - or something - it made me feel small, useless. I hated it. That undefinable something sparked a familiar ball of fire in my gut. Determination. Was I really going to be weak willed and let the anxiety that I'd come to associate with fun control me forever? With a burst of confidence that I couldn't quite recognize as my own, I looked up and smiled at Christina. I was still sitting in my desk chair in my pajamas, but it was a start. She grinned back at me.
"I suppose it does."
As I was faced with my reflection, I recalled for about the fifteenth time since agreeing to go out, why I'd been avoiding all of this. Christina's makeovers were always a little overbearing. As usual where mirrors, or really any reflective surface, were concerned, I felt an inexplicable pull in my gut that told me to look away – but I stared into my own eyes defiantly, tonight I was being strong, and that was as much a part of it as anything else. As a stipulation for our night out, she made me agree to let her choose my outfit, after all what did I know about being presentable in public? This apparently included the need for makeup. She had argued that I never let her do this anymore and, rather than try to worm my way out, I had accepted defeat. Now I was having second thoughts.
My eyes were lined with dark makeup and my hair was loose, falling in a halo of gold around my face artfully. Christina had teased it up so that it looked playfully messy, intentionally tussled. It cascaded neatly around my shoulders in a way I'd never be able to replicate alone. The color contrast brought out the blue in my usually cloudy eyes. I hardly recognized the girl with the severe eyes and clothes that clung to, rather than hid, any hint of curves she might have had, as myself. I considered complaining that the top was cut lower than I'd have liked, that the jeans were just on the side of too tight, but I swallowed the words instead. Something about the fact that she'd dressed me in all black made me feel powerful - I didn't want to lose that feeling. As I took another moment to examine my features, a phrase bubbled to the surface in a voice I knew wasn't my own. You're..striking. I got the feeling that Christina had said those words to me before - she probably had, it sounded like something she'd say - but I couldn't find the memory those words belonged to.
"Oh come on, don't look so stoic, Tris. It's not like we're going off to battle. You and I haven't gone out in ages - at least pretend you're excited. " Christina snapped me out of my reverie, rolling her eyes. For some reason the phrase made my stomach turn, rather than eliciting laughter as it probably should have. Something felt so..wrong about it. Out of place. I couldn't quite shake the effect her words had on me, but rather than linger on it, I lifted my chin a bit higher and followed her out of the bathroom without another glance at the girl in the mirror we were leaving behind. My turmoil slowly began to fade.
"Okay, okay, I'll try my best to be at least a little fun tonight," I offered, though I couldn't be sure I wouldn't end up leaving early to be alone. Christina beamed a smile my way, lacing her arm through mine, so it must have been good enough for her. It was easy to relax into her friendly embrace, even if I still felt a strange twinge in my stomach at how easily she touched people. We stepped outside into the last rays of the evening, the scene was comforting compared to the unforgiving screen I'd been staring at for the last few hours, and it helped my mood almost immediately. I vowed to myself that I would try to be positive tonight. Emphasis on try.
All around us there were students going to and from classes or gathering for a night out on the edge of campus, chattering happily to one another. Christina and I stopped to do a double check for wallets and keys to the apartment. Once we were positive that we'd gotten everything, she took the lead, all but dragging me down the sidewalk with our arms still linked. Her free hand was a flurry of motion as she rapidly responded to, and read over texts. I found myself wondering how she managed that so easily in one hand, but didn't bother to ask. The thought occurred to me that I should try texting more - actually send more than a few brief messages - then I'd get the hang of it.
"Will said he and Al would meet us at the Pit." I tried not to focus on the bubble of tension growing in my chest at the thought of all the people I'd soon be sharing space with, smiling in her direction instead - I hoped she couldn't see through to my nervousness. It must have been convincing enough, because she returned it easily, looking forward again without any hesitation.
"That's good – It'll be nice to hang out with them again," I was surprised to find that I meant it. I missed my friends. Fear and anxiety mingled together with a hint of anticipation at this point and I was practically vibrating from the mixture. Christina grinned from ear to ear, sending another text before tucking her phone away for good. She turned to look at me then, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. It was comforting.
"It's great that you're coming out tonight, Tris, we've missed you," Her tone was surprisingly serious, which left me thinking that maybe I'd been worrying her - I made a silent promise to myself that I'd work on that, I didn't want anyone who cared about me to feel distressed just because social outings made me uncomfortable. The thought didn't sit right with me.
"Yeah well, who else is going to keep you from drinking your wallet, or more realistically Will's wallet, down the drain?" I teased with a laugh, looking around me at how everyone else seemed so happy and comfortable. It helped to make me feel better - like their good moods could rub off on me. The light, by now, was an almost golden color from the sunset, and there was the faintest hint of a chill on the breeze. I could taste the beginning of summer in the air. Then the stench of cigarette smoke met my senses and it was gone. My chest tightened up and I felt the doubts come creeping in from all sides again - the apprehension. I could still turn back, if I wanted to. Breathe Tris.
Suddenly Christina craned her neck, so I did the same, looking up at what should have been just another skyscraper, covered in windows that reflected the world around us – but there was more to the building than its shiny exterior. I'd only been there once before, but I easily remembered every detail - how unusual it had been. Now that we'd arrived at our destination, I felt a tingle run down my spine, to the tips of my fingers - I felt eager. I was surprised to find that my apprehension had been traded in for eager excitement - the combination of that feeling with my mingling fears was making it hard to breathe. I was ready to burst in those doors and back into an environment I had no reason to miss the way I did in that moment. I could tell that Christina felt the same giddiness I was experiencing - we rushed forward as a pair, clinging to one another.
Despite my sudden enthusiasm, I was quietly battling with the meek part of myself that still wanted to run away from the steady stream of bodies around us, to take the easy way out. The part of me that craved freedom was filled with rage at the mere suggestion of hiding - of not facing my fears. More easily than I expected to, I gave into the heat in my veins and pushed myself further inside, letting my adventurous side win. Just like the first time I'd been here over a year or so ago, I found myself among a crowd of people that ranged from total strangers to faces I'd seen around campus; un like the first time, an overwhelming sense of familiarity crashed into me, catching me off guard and taking my breath. I knew it was abnormal to feel so strongly about somewhere I'd only ever been in once, but I savored the rush of emotion that this place caused in me all the same. Being there felt good, really, really good. That terrified me - it thrilled me . I was home.
I walked mechanically through the lobby, heading further down the rabbit hole before we finally came to a suspended staircase that separated the top portion of the building from the part I was really eager to get to. The floor of the uppermost part of the building was entirely glass, allowing for a view of the unique counterpart below, the actual club. It was bustling with activity, unsurprisingly. We finally made it down the first set of stairs and onto a secondary flight that was slightly rougher. This set of stairs had been carved out of the side of the wall – everything changed from being clean and organized to rough, rustic, and feral as we left the top portion of the building. I fell in love with it all over again as I drank in my surroundings. The walls were rock, and carved into them were nooks and crannies filled with pool tables and booths for anyone who didn't feel like staying at the bar or dancing down on the main floor.
Protruding from the walls were railings - shiny, metal, and new. Something inside of me protested at the sight - it told me that they didn't belong in this place, but I wasn't entirely sure why. Obviously such a dangerous building, designed for inebriated people, required safety features to keep patrons from careening onto the floor from the ledges. Elsewise they'd all be dead or have broken limbs by this point. I tried to shake the feeling of irritation while simultaneously opting not to use the railings by the stairs, moving quickly as pebbles scattered beneath my feet. I watched as Christina jumped off of the third to last step into the arms of a sturdy blonde with a familiar crease between his brows. It was impossible to tell his eye color in the dim lighting, but I knew from years of experience that they were a soft, jade green - Will. Behind him stood another man, nearly a foot taller and impossible to ignore in a crowd. He had a mop of brown hair on his head and wide brown eyes to match. If it weren't for the fact that he was incapable of keeping eye contact with any one person for more than a fraction of a second, he could have been intimidating. Instead, he was more of a gentle giant.
"Hey Will, Al," I nodded to them, grinning as my feet finally found their way to the floor. Now that we were on the main floor of the club, the atmosphere was noticeably different. Compared to outside the contrast was as clear as day and night. The bar couldn't have been more aptly named - it was a wide cavern peppered with patrons experiencing various levels of intoxication. Music blared all around us, but you'd be hard pressed to find where it was coming from. On the other side of the vast area was an older railing, worn and rusted, but sturdy, and a bridge that crossed it's expanse. Even from where I stood I could hear the sound of rushing water from that direction, and I knew without checking that there was a river below. I'd seen it the last time I'd been here, but I didn't feel any compulsion to go and look at it again. The water rushed by mercilessly fast there - if someone were to dive in, their chances of survival would have been slim to none. The whole thing made my skin crawl and filled me with a sense of foreboding. I was there to have a good time, so it was probably not a good idea to dwell on that place - already my skin had started to crawl. I forced my gaze back to the rest of the room.
The walls were splashed with various neon lights that painted pools of unnatural colors at odd angles all around us. Again, I found myself thinking that the vibrant shades were all wrong - that the only light should have come from the glass ceiling above and a few dim fixtures. That it was too extravagant for such a place. Try as I might, I couldn't figure out what made me feel so strongly, why I felt it was my place to pass judgement on the things that gave The Pit its ambiance, or what they felt was necessary to protect their paying customers, but I opted to ignore the niggling voice that picked out the tiny "problems" and focused on my friends instead. That was why I was here, right? To socialize and have fun, not to tell people how to run their own business. The air in the cavern was cold and damp; I took a few moments to breathe it all in. I was filled with longing, and a sense of unity that I couldn't quite explain. The smells of the actual cavern were dulled by the undertone of sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes, but it was still there - bringing a smile to my face. Even while I focused on ignoring the pulsing wave of bodies dancing in the center of the cavern, I found it easier to smile here than I'd expected.
"It's nice to see you out and about again, Tris!" Will chirped pleasantly, pulling me back into the now, where he and the others were looking at me expectantly. I laughed nervously, lifting my hand to the back of my neck. They were happy to see me - which only made my smile bigger. Maybe this had been a pretty good idea after all - I was already in a much better mood than I had been when Christina had found me brooding in my room.
"Well, it was this or work on a paper for Narcotics," I explained with a shrug, letting my hand fall back to my side - that was all I needed to say in my defense for them to groan in mutual understanding. Clearly they'd been having just about as much luck with the current assignment as I was. Thinking back over how that had sounded incredibly rude I felt a rush of shame burn my cheeks, and quickly continued, "I mean that, and I've really missed hanging out with you guys." They grinned at my words, seeming to perk up as they mirrored the words back to me eagerly. I needed to get better at this whole friendly conversation thing. I definitely didn't want any of them thinking that I was using them as some kind of distraction, that I was only out because I had nothing better to do. That wasn't fair to them. As it was, thanks to the differences in our schedules, I already almost never saw any of them outside of our rushed study circles and the occasional class that was shared. I didn't want to risk losing them altogether just because I was awful at social cues - and socializing all together, really.
Part of me knew I was being paranoid - they understood better than anyone how busy we all were, but I still felt like I'd been neglectful. Each of us were seeking some version of a career in law enforcement, which was probably the only reason we ever interacted with one another in the first place. Christina wanted to work with abused children while Will's goals shot a little higher, aiming for the big jobs working for the government directly. As far as I knew Al just wanted to be a police officer, and, honestly, I just dreamed of a decent position higher up in the ranks - not at the levels Will was looking for, but not as low as Al, either. Which was really just a weak way of saying I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do, other than succeed. The memory of our first few weeks together flashed into my head and brought a smile to my face - we had been a lot less convinced of our futures then - we were just a bunch of nervous freshman desperate to find kinship in such a foreign setting. I think, in a way, we were still those hopeless, lonely kids. I knew I was.
"Let's grab a booth before they're all gone!" Christina quickly grabbed hold of the situation and, by extension, the rest of us, leading us up another set of carved out steps as we rushed towards one of the small alcoves that still had an unoccupied booth. Once we were standing on solid ground again, she playfully bumped her hip against Will's - Al and I simultaneously found one another's gazes and rolled our eyes with matching smirks. It wasn't possible to be any more transparent about their flirtation, but the pair still weren't willing to admit their feelings - not to one another and absolutely not to us. They'd been like this for months with no sign of relief in sight - which only made the entirety of their situation more frustrating and amusing for those of us spectating. It was one of the biggest things Al and I were able to bond over. We even had a bet going on for how long it would take them to finally confess. I watched Chris as she moved to sit at a booth, leaving me the outside seat - she knew me so well. Before the guys could sit, though, she threw her hands up as though to make them halt. It worked.
"Boys buy the first round, right?" Christina asked with a deliberate innocence on her face that was clearly feigned, even I could see that, and I wasn't even a walking lie detector like she and Al were. Al smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets, but he didn't argue. With a dramatic roll of his eyes Will turned on his heel to go back the way we'd come, calling over his shoulder to her jokingly,
"As long as you swear you're actually going to pay for the next one!"
"On my honor!" If I knew anything about her, that was a bold faced lie. Will and Al would end up buying the majority of the drinks, though I wouldn't let the them do it all, I had my own spare change for living expenses. Usually it was spent on the occasional order of fast food, or new sneakers or something, but I figured I could splurge if it meant equality between friends. Or, more aptly, if it meant making sure Al didn't make offhand comments about being more than happy to pay for my tab. That felt too much like a date.
"I..actually sort of missed this place," I commented softly, giving The Pit another once over, more out of habit than anything – I didn't recognize any of the faces out on the dance floor, but that wasn't exactly surprising, due to my lack of social interaction. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Christina was doing much of the same. She wasn't staring into the crowd of people, but at the walls and the bridge that crossed the river on the far side of the room with wide, curious eyes. She was just as eager to drink in our surroundings as I had been.
"It's so weird, but I know what you mean, I love this club – it's like, I'm supposed to be here, you know?" I wasn't sure if finding out that she felt the same as I did terrified or relieved me, but I nodded all the same. It was a strange feeling, knowing that I wasn't the only one that had an unusual sense of belonging associated with The Pit. I was torn between feeling a rush of affection, of kinship, for her, and discomfort at not knowing what exactly that meant. Did that discredit the special feeling I had? Maybe, if she felt it, too, then it was just a case of really, really good decorators and an awesome location. After a few dizzying moments I decided not to over analyze it and instead grinned at her, choosing to enjoy the fact that we were alike in something. As if to make myself feel better, or maybe to convince myself of it, I voiced my suspicions.
"Well, if they aren't making the atmosphere desirable, then they aren't exactly doing their jobs right, are they?" She thought over it for a moment before nodding as though she agreed with me - that it made perfect sense. Thankfully the subject was laid to rest when Will and Al reappeared with two pitchers, one filled with a greenish liquid and the other a deep brown, and four tall glasses - our distraction had arrived. I'd never been happier to see a mixed drink in my life. The green liquid, a whiskey sour, was for Christina and I while Al and Will shared a mixture of whiskey and brown soda. From my left Christina whooped with pleasure and patted the table eagerly, ready to get started. I chose to pour the drinks without even thinking about it, filling everyone's glass before my own. Something about that felt important, familiar even. I felt a prick of annoyance that I couldn't quite place - like the idea of serving everyone before myself was something I shouldn't do. I wasn't given much time to worry over it, though, because Will's glass was raised in the air and everyone else was following suit, so I joined in. I saw Christina's grin and prepared for her to make a jab at someone, good naturedly, of course. More than likely it would be me.
"To getting Tris out of her cave of solitude, I deserve a trophy!"
That was about what I'd expected.
"To surviving finals!" I added laughingly, sticking my tongue out her with an air of defiance.
"I can drink to both of those," Will chuckled, causing me to laugh again, it felt good. Healthy. The liquid in their cups quickly vanished - I had to take two or three big gulps to catch up with them. The burn was softened by a lemony soda, but I still cringed as it rolled down my throat and filled my stomach with heat; the bitter aftertaste wasn't something I'd been able to adapt so far. Al was the one to fill our glasses next, looking up at me with a fond expression that I wasn't entirely comfortable with, so I chose to glance off to the side instead of meeting it. If the moment was uncomfortable or strange, no one seemed to notice or mention it - we just kept rolling through the motions.
"So did you guys have Sergeant Coulter in class today?" Al cleared his throat and asked, his tone nervous and timid - I found myself annoyed by it, thinking someone his size should have been more confident. Shame burned in my gut alongside the alcohol, and I made myself look up at him and smile - this was my friend . The question should have been asked happily - with some kind of eagerness in the mix; having the opportunity to meet with a Sergeant and make a first impression on them should have been an exciting experience, but each of us stayed quiet - except for Will, who grunted with irritation. I found myself silently agreeing with his sentiment. That was really the only way to respond to the question. I sipped at my drink, and waited for the complaints to start rolling in.
"I don't understand how someone like him could be promoted to Sergeant - and so young! He's such an egotistical dick," Each of us laughed - I couldn't have argued even if I wanted to, he was absolutely right. I looked down into my cup before taking another long drink, my tongue had become slightly more numb to the taste by this point, so it was beginning to taste better. The officer in question had stepped into my Criminal Procedure class earlier that day. He'd been quiet at first, observing, before giving us a speech about what we could expect out of the academy in a few weeks, if we chose to go. He was pretty harsh, and not in the overly passionate about their cause way - it was more like he didn't expect anyone to meet his standards.
"Because he's top quality ass kisser, that's why," Christina offered, a sneaky grin on her face.
"I heard he was second in his group of graduates from the academy, that he lost out to some guy who works in security now. So he had to be doing something right." I offered quietly, but even I didn't fully believe that. If rumors were to be believed, ranking up didn't always take into consideration your talents so much as your willingness to grovel to the right people. I remembered feeling unnerved by him. Sergeant Eric Coulter, I learned, had a terrifying way of staring right through you, like he was slowly peeling you open and seeing right into your weakest places. The number of piercings in his face did absolutely nothing to improve the discomfort he inspired. The memory of him made my skin crawl. I chose to stare into a neon orange light across the way in hopes of forgetting his piercing stare. Rather than let the conversation continue to focus on someone so unpleasant, I decided to change the topic, blinking away the blare of orange burned into my retinas.
"Have you guys finished up your internship hours?" They all seemed perfectly willing to divert their attention from the Sergeant, and I found myself relaxing as each of them took turns discussing who they'd been paired up with, and what it had been like. For the most part I'd heard all of it before, but it was nice to talk about something positive all the same. Then it was my turn to talk about my own experience, which wasn't necessarily bad, but I didn't feel that I learned very much from it. I had been on more patrols than I could count, but my assigned officer wasn't a very serious person. Just about as soon as his name passed my lips, Zeke, as he'd requested I call him, I regretted bringing this up. I hadn't meant to call him by his first name - to sound so informal - but it was enough to garner that sneaky grin on Christina's face. I groaned. We'd had this discussion before. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Al seemed slightly more stiff now. Odd.
"Ooh, so you're on a first name basis with him?" I scowled, annoyed to feel the blush creeping up my neck at her suggestion - even if what she was hinting at wasn't true, it was still enough to bring heat to my cheeks. I'd always blushed too easily - another flaw on the ever growing list. Leave it to Chris to know just the best ways to embarrass me. Sure, even I couldn't deny that Zeke was attractive - he was one of those people that knew they looked good, and that somehow only made it more prominent. Confidence or what have you. Did that mean I flirted with him? Absolutely not - even if I had wanted to, I'd never been capable of that kind of thing, it just wasn't something I'd been good at. Plus, the guy had a steady girlfriend and was my mentor. There was absolutely no way I would have ran the risk of scoring a bad reputation with the entire precinct I wanted to work at before I even made it into the academy.
"Not in the way you're thinking, little miss nosy," I replied smoothly, trying to sound like she hadn't gotten me all worked up - my voice still cracked though, "Unlike some people, I don't confuse work with play, we did the same thing everyone else was doing, nothing more - nothing less" She knew this was true, I'd already told her everything in annoying detail just to prove I wasn't lying, besides, if I had been she would've known it - but she still deflated with a slight pout. Apparently it was disappointing that I behaved in my same boring, safe way all the time. I never had any fun stories for her to gush with me about. Oh well. I could feel the heat in my cheeks easing up and managed to relax a little, but one look at Al brought the blood rushing back in the form of anger. He looked relieved - proud even - and suddenly I wished I would have done something with Zeke, just to wipe that look off of his face. I think he noticed my irritation, because suddenly his face fell and he stared at the table.
Instead of letting the anger boil and ruin my good night, I pushed myself away from the booth while pointedly not looking at him. I knew my mouth was set into a hard line, and I could see the way Christina was suddenly very uncomfortable while Will shot me a blissfully clueless, curious look. I didn't check to see whatever expression was on Al's face - I didn't want to know. I tipped my glass back and drained it, not even cringing as it burned on the way down. The feeling was welcome at the moment. I plopped it down on the table, harder than I'd intended to, and grabbed for our empty pitchers, trying not to act as angry as I felt. It was ridiculous to be that upset just because Al was glad I didn't have anything going on with Zeke, but it felt slightly overbearing.
"It's my turn to get drinks, you can pay next, Chris," I narrowed my eyes at her in what I hoped was a playful way, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice - this seemed to make her relax and Will grinned from ear to ear at the notion of more drinks. She waved her hand dismissively, laughing, and started a debate on which of their assigned officers had taken them to the best restaurants. Typical. It was impossible not to smile at the scene, which was a good start towards quelling my flare of anger. This time I took the steps a little more carefully, though I still refused to use the railings - I was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol and while I wasn't yet buzzed, I was dangerously close to that point. The change in temperature down on the floor of The Pit made my skin flush with heat as I carefully weaved my way through the gyrating bodies towards my goal. One more set of roughly carved stairs later found me at the bar. I made it in one piece, so that was as good a victory as any. I enjoyed the cool air here after the swampy environment of the dance floor.
My eyes landed on my reflection behind the bartender and I felt a shock in my gut before tearing them away to stare at the ceiling. I wondered then, for the hundredth time, what it was about mirrors that made me so uncomfortable, but had yet to find an answer. Christina blamed it on repressed childhood trauma, which was just like her to use me as practice for psychoanalysis, but how would I know if that were true or not anyway? If it were repressed, I wouldn't exactly remember it. I finally chose to divert my eyes from both the ceiling and the mirror, focusing on resting both pitchers carefully on the counter. When the bartender came up to me, I smiled and politely ordered the same thing as before - he nodded and fixed me with a knowing smirk. He had a shaven head and multiple tattoos - it felt like he belonged here, and I couldn't help but smile at him as he turned away. I turned to press my back to the counter, telling myself that I wasn't avoiding the mirror ringed with bottles - I was just surveying the place my subconscious was so quick to label as home. It was a good thing no one asked me to defend myself, I'd never been a very good liar.
It only took a matter of seconds for me to regret staring into the crowd of dancers below the alcove where they kept the bar - already I could feel a distinct blush burning in my face. Some - most, really- of the people in the crowd were moving together in ways that I wouldn't have labeled as dancing. I wouldn't have labeled it appropriate for public, either, but I'd been told many times that I was a prude, so maybe that was just me - maybe that was the norm and I was strange. Rather than watch the embarrassing displays below, I glanced first to my left, and then to my right, where my gaze fell on a vaguely familiar person. There was a guy sitting at the end of the bar on his own, hunched over a drink. I was almost positive we had a class together, but I wasn't sure which one it was - I couldn't recall his name or why looking at him filled me with a wave of irritation, but he had my attention. Even though I couldn't immediately bring any interaction we'd had to the forefront of my mind, I got the impression our encounters weren't pleasant ones.
I decided to focus on his appearance, rather than my growing anger. His hair shone, even in the dull light, and his eyes were unfocused - he had yet to notice me, thankfully. He stared at nothing, or at least I couldn't pinpoint the object of his attention. His left hand loosely held the rim of his glass, which was half full of a liquid the color of honey, hovering just above the counter, and his other arm was tucked against his chest. His clothes were dark - a sweater with thin lines through it and a pair of jeans that I couldn't tell you the color of thanks to the low lighting - and hinted at coiled muscles below the cloth; he couldn't be described as built but he wasn't scrawny, either. It didn't seem like there was anyone accompanying him. I thought that, maybe, I should have felt pity for him, but only experienced a prickle of annoyance tingling up my spine. I didn't have any urge to approach him at all - but that wasn't entirely surprising, I didn't often feel the impulse to talk to strangers. Call it self preservation, or cowardice, I couldn't tell you which.
The sound of a heavy container being rested on the bar to my left caught me off guard and made me flinch. I quickly turned to face the bartender, fingering through the large bills for the correct amount I owed in my wallet. I laid down a little more than necessary and smiled up at him - he seemed surprised at my politeness.
"Keep the change," I murmured, wanting to get away from the bar and from the guy at the end of it - an unintentional glance into the mirror told me that his head was lifted but I didn't look long enough to see why. Something about him was making me angrier and angrier the longer I stayed in his presence - my hands were trembling. The more I thought on it, the more I was sure I could remember him being a pretty big jerk in some classes, I was sure he was in the same program as I was - most of the people in our college were - but there was nothing specific enough to warrant the kind of response I was having to him. He must have been looking my way, because the moment I made myself glance his way again, our eyes met, and not in a good way. I couldn't tell you what color his were, in the dim light they appeared to be black pits. An involuntary shudder ripped through me. The look he gave me was cruel, like he was sizing me up as a possible threat or prey. I was given the sinking impression that he didn't like me any more than I liked him. It shouldn't have been, but the prospect of a stranger hating me was offensive.
I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but I remembered thinking, suddenly, that the center of this guy's attention was not at all a good place to be. His eyes followed me, unflinching, as I turned slightly to grip the handles of each pitcher - I was determined to ignore him and, by extension, the burning rage in my stomach. Before I looked away, I could just see that the corner of his mouth was curled up into a smirk - then he lifted his glass and covered it. With a huff of indignation, I tore my eyes away and squared my shoulders, it was time to go back to our booth before I started to worry my friends, anyway. As I left, I could swear I felt his eyes burning into the back of my head the entire time, but I didn't spare a backward glance to check. For some reason that felt too much like I'd be giving him some kind of satisfaction. Once I found my way back to our booth, Al rose to help me sit the pitchers down, I couldn't find it in me to be angry at him after the bar, so I just thanked him as I caught the end of a heated debate between Christina and Will. It helped erase the anger as I roll my eyes alongside Al.
Some things never change.
Will and Christina's argument turned out to be over who had a higher tolerance for alcohol - to the extreme of challenging one another to multiple rounds of shots - Al and I were christened the "judges". This went on for a good hour or so - I stopped drinking for fear that none of us would be able to leave if at least one of us wasn't sober. Al followed suit. Will technically won, just because he was able to finish his final shot whereas Christina spat hers out, but both of them were equally inebriated. The pair of idiots suddenly broke into fits of laughter - over what, I couldn't be sure - which was as good of a sign as any that it was time for us to leave - I'd stayed much longer than originally intended, anyway. Getting out of The Pit was much more difficult with two people who could barely stand on their own, but somehow we managed it. The chill of the night was a shock after being inside a club full of people for the last few hours, but I welcomed it. The bracing cold helped to clear my head the rest of the way.
The walk back was filled with laughter and the occasional stumble that had either myself or Al nearly dropping our drunken friends, but eventually I recognized the street that would lead us back to mine and Chris' apartment. I had Christina draped over my shoulders, which was difficult in her current state - she was a giggling mess who seemed determined to trip over her own feet - but I managed to keep her upright as I glanced at our friends. I stopped short at the fork where Al and Will would continue straight while we would need to veer to the right, anticipating AL's words before he spoke them.
"You sure you don't need me to take you all the way to your place? I'd hate if something happened to either of you." He was being sincere and polite, I should have been flattered, but I found myself irritated that he thought we couldn't take care of ourselves. Or..well, that I couldn't take care of us, Chris definitely would not have been much help in her current state. Instead I smiled, and shook my head, starting to turn towards our street.
"No, no, it's fine really. We've got this, you just focus on getting that one safely home." I was lucky to have been saddled with Christina since we lived together, Al would have to drop off the poor drunken Will and then walk another two blocks before he could go to bed. He looked as tired as I felt.
"Oh, well..if you're sure. Just uh, text me, let me know you made it home okay?"
"Sure thing! Good luck, Al," I waved him off, walking away before he could keep up the conversation - he looked like he wanted to say something, but was interrupted by Will proclaiming that he needed to vomit. Yep. I had been very, very lucky with taking care of Christina. She cried loud, embarrassing goodbyes over our shoulders to the guys that made me drag her just a bit faster. Not for the first time since moving in, I felt a wave of gratitude that we'd scored a ground floor apartment, as it made this entire process a lot more manageable - though, she still made the entire affair far more difficult than it needed to be. After some struggling over getting her changed into pajamas and making her brush her teeth, I was finally able to put her to bed with two aspirin and a tall glass of water. With that taken care of I focused on my own hygiene, and getting ready for bed - I'd almost forgotten how irritating removing makeup was until I had the black stuff smeared down my cheeks. I remembered my promise to text Al as I was settling into bed and grabbed for my phone, cursing under my breath as the blinding screen assaulted my eyes in the otherwise dark room. When my eyes had recovered enough to actually see what I was doing I shot him a quick text and curled up under my comforter.
[12:48AM] Me: Made it home and put her to bed with no broken limbs. I deserve a medal.
[12:52AM] Al: the package is delivered. who needs a medal when you have us?
[12:52AM] Me: Yeah yeah, the true virtue is friendship. Thanks Officer Sunshine.
[1:00AM] Al: I'm having a heart attack - tris prior made a joke.
[1:01AM] Al: Made it home ok
[1:03AM] Me: Don't die, who will laugh at Will and Chris with me?
[1:04AM] Me: Good. Go to bed. Night.
As I put my phone away I heard it buzz again - rather than checking it I just plugged in my charger and burrowed further under my covers. Knowing everyone was taken care of and safe left me with a clear conscience and a nagging weight of exhaustion. I was absolutely ready for a good sleep after the night I'd had. It was only once I'd closed my eyes, close to drifting off, that a memory floated up to the surface of narrowed green eyes and a cruel smirk. I'd completely forgotten about the incident at the bar until that moment, but it was suddenly fresh again, and I felt a familiar burn of anger in a matter of seconds. I thought back to his cold expression, and the way he seemed genuinely annoyed to find me in his proximity, as though I were a personal insult to him, and it was infuriating how easily I could recall his name then. How could I have forgotten someone who was so especially talented at getting under my skin?
His name was Peter Hayes and I was certain that I hated him.
Alright so expect another chapter up in a week's time! Tell me what you think in the comments, you can also shoot me asks over on my a href=" .com"tumblr/a I've reserved specifically for my ! I'm sorry if things feel a little slow, I'll pick up the pace as quickly as I can without hurting the build of the story.