A/N: Trying something very new. I hope you love it! Updates should be frequent, as I've planned out most of the story. If you're a fan of "The Full-Frontal Honeymoon," my apologies. I will finish it, but I can't promise when. For now, I hope you will enjoy this!

Chapter One—The Seen (Yes, this is the usage I want!)

Feeling a little jacked, he checked his watch. It was only 9 o'clock; maybe he should slow down a bit. No, it's my 21st birthday. I'm actually legal to drink now. So I should, and I will. He picked up the shot of SoCo and Lime that Emmett had bought him, felt the coolness of the glass before he tossed it down his throat. A chill ran through him as the alcohol burn warmed his throat and chest. He shook his head and gave a shrug to shake it off. On to the next one…

Surveying the scene for the first time in a long time, he realized more friends had arrived. He partied with this same group on a frequent basis, so nothing about tonight was too special. Well, they were buying his drinks for a change that was definitely different. He took this rare moment of independence to grip the bar with his hands and look down at them. A bar at his fingertips; a world at his fingertips. Although he never admitted it out loud, he could see the beauty in his hands that others so frequently commented on. He also knew the beauty they were capable of producing. What if I lost these hands? He chuckled at the ludicrous thought. It must be the alcohol.

He turned to join his friends, but the sound of the front door opening slowed him. The hinges were rusty and the sound was a grinding screech mixed with a few backbreaking snaps.

His eyes stopped on her legs first.

He skipped over the shoes, which were completely wrong with the green dress she was wearing that hit just above her knees. Her legs were slender and waif-like, not tone and muscular. Her skin was pale, but not dull. It was something like molten ivory just daring him to reach out and sink his hands in.

He scanned the dress.

A soft, emerald silk: modest, but snug. It hugged the soft curve of her hips, the slenderness of her waist, and it cut high across her bodice. It did not reveal any cleavage, but instead gave a hint that something precious was hiding behind the fabric. His mouth may have actually watered.

Time had stopped but a few moments for him, yet she had continued to move. Though, it was unnatural at best. She seemed to move in slow motion, but in an awkward sense. Each step seemed an effort, as though she over thought the process and screwed it up altogether. He smiled at the oddness of it all.

He was startled by the position of her right arm. She held it slightly out in front of her body as though it were leading her. It wasn't turned into her side with her palm facing her thigh, as it should have been. Instead, her arm was turned out and her palm faced forward revealing the delicate skin of her wrist. It was almost as though she were reaching out for someone. Waiting for someone to take her hand, to guide her. She must be reaching for me.

He took a step toward her. Extending his left arm to her, exposing his own wrist. His eyes finally moved to her face, and he stopped short. He didn't seem to be in control anymore.

She met his eyes with hers. She paused her awkward strides, and stared back at him. Something passed between them in those moments. A bit of truth, a bit of desire, but mostly the knowledge that something greater than themselves had brought this moment, this exchange, about.

He knew he would recognize her always, but he would not be able to describe her face to you, because he could not move his eyes from hers.

The whole thing was cosmic, yet fleeting. He knew already it was neither something he could hang on to, nor something he was ready for.

It wasn't like being pulled from a dream, because this was real. But more like being pushed into a nightmare. He felt the taps on his shoulder; her heard the shrill voice. He knew he was losing her.

"Hey Birthday guy!"

"Huh? What?" Involuntarily he began to turn his head towards the sound, but he his eyes remained fixated on hers.

"What are you doing over here all by yourself? No worries, I brought the party to you! Tequila? Lick it, slam it, suck it, right?"

He couldn't make sense of the words. He didn't want to. But a chill and a fear had begun to rise within him, and he felt it was safer to look away. So, he did.

Jessica stood before him, with her massive amounts of curly brown hair and a lace top that left little to the imagination. Once she was convinced that she had his attention, she poured a shot of tequila into his glass, licked and salted her hand, and placed a slice of lime between her glossed lips.

He realized his mistake too late. He looked back at the door; he scanned the bar. She was gone. He would have raced out into the street to find her, but he could feel that she was already lost.

He looked back at Jessica, who still had a lime between her lips just waiting to be sucked. He could see the worry beginning to form in her eyes. He gave her a wink and grabbed her salted hand. He slowly licked the salt from it, downed the shot, and met her lips with his. He crushed the lime between them, letting the juice dribble down their chins a bit. He then brushed it aside with his tongue, and hid it away in his cheek.

Without and obstruction, he had full access to her mouth. He pushed himself against her. Forcing his tongue inside her mouth. He slid an arm around her back, knowing she'd go a little weak. He turned and pressed her against the bar while sliding his hand up into her hair. He grabbed a fistful of curls and pried her mouth from his. He heard a low moan from her throat.

The scene was completely indecent, and he wasn't done.

He forced her head back farther and presented her neck to his waiting mouth. A trickle of limejuice had run from her mouth all the way down to her bodice. He had every intention of licking all of it up, and he did it. Without modesty or thought, his tongue out like a dog's, he swept it down her neck, over her collarbone and into the deep V of her neckline. He paused for a moment to nibble at the exposed curve of her breast, before coming up.

He knew he had caused a scene. He knew most were watching him. They expected this of him. He always delivered.

He stood up straight and began to distance himself from Jessica. Her mouth was in the shape of an "O" and when he released her, she brought a hand up to touch her lips. Almost as though she were checking and ensuring that they were still there.

He turned his head to the side, and spit the lime onto the floor.