Hello all :) Thank you SO much for all those that reviewed and favourited and followed so soon! In thanks, here's another chapter ;)

PLEASE REVIEW SO I KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS OR IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS XOXOX

PEACE & LOVE

––Stars Walk Backward.

ONCE AGAIN, reminding y'all that the songs I post at the beginning of chapters are Ana's playlist because the lyrics either inspire me as I write the chapter, or I feel that the lyrics are relevant to Ana's mindset in the chapter - so I strongly recommend giving them a listen before and during reading :)

HAPPY READING XOX

Ana's iPod

Now playing:- "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift

There I was again tonight,
Forcing laughter, faking smiles;
Same old tired lonely place.

Walls of insincerity,
Shifting eyes and vacancy,
Vanished when I saw your face...
All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you.

Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?"
Across the room your silhouette,
Starts to make its way to me.
The playful conversation starts,
Counter all your quick remarks,
Like passing notes in secrecy.

And it was enchanting to meet you.
All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go.
I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home.
I'll spend forever wondering if you knew...

I was enchanted to meet you…

He wasn't anywhere in the party rooms as I ventured out alone, not at the bar and not dancing, though somehow I don't imagine he'd fit in there. He seemed too serious for that. Grasping at chance, I peep out onto the deck…and there he is. He appears to be having a hushed heated discussion with Elliot, and I instantly hurry back the way I came, but not before I catch the tail ends of a sentence "…you had to fucking bring me here…"

I swallow, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. He isn't having fun. He isn't affected by me, like I am about him. God… How I had hoped… Stupid girl.

I instantly go to the drinks table and pour myself wine, which I hate, but at least it's strong. I glug it down without tasting it, while checking my phone. No messages. No notifications. Ever the popular socialite, am I…

Kate finds me soon after, and we dance until we're hot and need fresh air…and she needs more tar-infected smoke. I follow her to the deck, only to find Elliott's brother back in his spot, staring at his blackberry and sipping on a crystal glass of amber liquid. I turn to check where Kate wants to sit and she isn't behind me, but ahead speaking to Elliot, who had moved to another pair of couches, slightly further away.

"Anastasia!" came the slurred call of Elliot. "Come sit with us, come, come," he beckon as he and his gaggle went to sit near Him. I meekly follow them, sitting back down next to the beautiful stranger, as the conversation, now very much giggly and ridiculous, carried on opposite us. At a loss as to what to do, I note that one of my favourite songs to blast in my bedroom, some girl-power anthem, began playing inside, the booming resonance of which still very much reaching my ears even from outside. I begin bobbing along to the song, realising that the surface of my face felt sort of numb, a clear sign of the beginnings of drunkenness. Kate passes me the shish pipe and I take it, breathing deeply, letting the flavoured steam fill my lungs. Though I have never and will never smoke cigarettes, shisha doesn't contain nicotine and is strangely calming and sociable, with many a party in college turning out to be fun when in a circle sharing a pipe and watching the water at the base bubble. As I finish it, I turn to offer it to Him, who I have been trying desperately to ignore, even though his presence burns into my consciousness. To my surprise, he takes it, though I don't look up to meet his eyes, due to a lack of trust in myself. I know if I look up, I'll fixate on his lips on the pipe, which would be dangerous, dangerous territory.

A distraction. I need a distraction. While the group chat away about god-knows-what, I hear the final chorus of my favourite song kick in inside, and I can't help but drum the rhythm against my thighs. Yes. This song makes me happy. I don't need men. I just need this. Music and alcohol…

It's only a second later that I realise that my left hand is drumming along, as is my right, but that I could no longer feel it striking my left thigh…but it was striking something… Which could only mean one thing…

Oh, shit! It was His thigh, that had been parallel with mine! I had drummed on His thigh. Holy fucking shit!

This wasn't an accident and you know it, my inner voice smirked and perhaps she was right, who knew. Oh god… What am I doing?

I turn to him, raising my eyes to his face, instantly looking as wide eyed and apologetic as possible. "Shit, I'm sorry. I thought that was my––I'm so sorry––"

That corner of the lip smirk graces his features again, his eyes sparkling at me. "It's quite alright. You do look as though you had one or two of those whiskey teacups. Lethal."

What a voice. The low timber and rich tone of it seems to shudder right through me. Fuck.

"Well, indeed. I don't even remember drinking that many… On the upside, at least I can dance when I'm this intoxicated and not care that I look positively ridiculous."

Oh, do shut up, I scorn, knowing I must sound like a silly, naïve girl getting drunk for the first time, which I am not.

"I'm sure you don't look as ridiculous as you think you do," he counters, sipping on his tumbler. He has now firmly put his phone away. I can feel him watching me intently, as if documenting every detail of my face. Suddenly, the tented area feels too small and and too hot. I blush, knowing my cheeks are turning pink as I look down at my lace-clad lap, feeling from his tone that his words have hidden connotations. But of course they don't. Why would He like me?

"Ana! Dancing time. Now!" Kate shrieked yanking me from my seat before I can blink.

"Christian! You too, you miserable ass!" Elliott called jovially, evidently enjoying the sneer that he received from his brother in return, as he laughed before yanking him up from his seat to follow us. I turn forward as I'm dragged inside, focussing on trying to walk as straightly, sexily, normally as possible, biting my lip hard. Christian. So that's his name. It suits him. Simple. Understated…attractive… Christian.

In the middle of the dance floor, Kate instantly begins to showcase he ability to drop it low and swirl her hips to the sultry beat. I, as usual under the influence of alcohol, attempt to imitate her movements. Unfortunately, as an awkward, clumsy woman with a disability that results in an incredible level of inflexibility and inelegance, no amount of alcohol can give me a talent I can never possess… Though it helps.

Kate grins at me as Elliott begins to dance against her and by the look on her face, I know Christian isn't far behind. I gulp down my automatic reaction to run and hide and instead let myself close my eyes and dance, no matter what I look like. I feel the alcohol loosening my usually stiff muscles, ridding me of my inhibitions, making me laugh out loud. The large group of people all move together to the music, striking me as to how delightful it feels to fit into the crowd like this. I open my eyes, deciding I need more alcohol, only for my gaze to instantly meet that of Christian, leaning against the wall just at the edge of the dancing crowd…and he's watching me. Suddenly I find myself taking to the idea of teasing him, something I have never done before, closing my eyes and leaning my head back, rolling my hips as evenly as they will allow, trying to look as provocative as I am able to. I peek out of one eye just as he pushes himself off the wall, placing down his now empty tumbler and moving in my direction. Holy shit, I grin to myself, biting back a laugh. It's working. Raising my hands above my head, I roll my hips as I twirl around, singing along to lyrics I didn't realise I knew. As he steps up behind me, I feel it, as goosebumps spread across my skin. Suddenly I don't care that the lace of my dress is basically see-through, and am instead glad for its tight fit and for my choice of lacy bra to match. I feel a hand grasp gently at my wrists that I have held together above my head. It's the only contact between us, and it doesn't last, but for the entirety of it, my heart hammers in my chest. I know he's dancing behind me, watching me, but I dare not turn. As the song ends, I realise that I have drifted further out of the mass of people, as I consider whether to rest or dance some more, I feel a move over my left buttock, only to then be passed by Christian, who walks to the bar without looking back. I feel my mind reeling like a loud, cluttering celluloid camera. What. Rewind. Did he just…

"You just touched my ass!" I call over the music, making sure my tone is not offended, simply shocked, because, though I should be, I wasn't offended. In fact, I craved more.

He turns upon my call, that smirk on his features again. He's half way to the bar, still in that crisp white shirt and tie and braces, quiff still in tact. Fuck, he was positively edible. "Let's not pretend it wasn't consensual," he calls back, such arrogance and teasing in his tone I don't know what I want more, to kiss him or hit him. Kiss him, please, came a voice from the deepest part of me. Darn, that was a good come back. He knows. He can already read me.

I am so, completely and utterly, well and truly, fucked.

-x-

I follow him to the bar and order a Long Island Iced Tea without looking at him, taking it back with me toward the dance floor. It's incredibly strong, containing at least three different kinds of white spirit, but at this moment that is what I need. Liquid courage. Just as I finish it, Emma passes me, her eyes glazed with the affects of alcohol as she grins at me, squeezing me to her. For the second time that night, I'm dragged to dance, though this time, I cannot wait to. I grin at Emma as I let my head fall back to stare at the pretty strings of lights all over the ceiling.

"Emma, this party's so great," I yell in her ear. I know I'm slurring a little, but what of it? I just downed a Long Island. I'd be disappointed if I wasn't.

"I know, right? Love you, Ana! Thank you for coming to see me. You're so nice..."

I feel serenity wash over me as song after song passes and I dance and twirl under the lights, surrounded by beautiful dressed people in twenties attire. Who knew parties could be so un-stressful?

I twirl to tell Emma how much I approve of the theme, just to find Christian there with Elliott's arm over his shoulder. This must be their favourite song, by the way they hang the words to each other; Elliot haphazardly, Christian, slightly begrudgingly.

"...How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss..."

I feel a hot arm ghost the arch of my back, a hand coming to rest at the curve of my hip. Christian was drawing me to his side as his brother had a hold of his other side. I look around the small group that had formed. Kate is probably as drunk as she can get, singing the words out of tune and very loudly along with Elliot. Elliot's friends were gesturing at each other in time with the lyrics and jumping. No one therefore seems to notice but I as Christian's hand creeped lowered until he was confidently cupping my bottom. I feel a sense of strange empowerment was over me. This man, this unbelievable man, finds me desirable? I curve my arm around the back of him, mirroring him as I decided to settle my hand at his belt, anchoring myself to him. His leather belt bit into the skin of my palm, but I barely felt it. My focus was all too centred on the arm securely around me and the hand that had wondered south. Mustering up as much courage as the alcohol could give me, I turn my head to look at him, only to find him looking at me. I raise an eyebrow at him, as if to say 'Excuse me, what do you think you're doing with that hand?', while biting down on my lower lip to keep from grinning. He doesn't smirk at me now, though his eyes, even in the dimly lit room, seem to spark with something lethal and dangerous. He lets go of his brother, who is, as ever, distracted, though this time by Kate Kavanagh's mouth, and turns to me. I can't help but focus on his lips, that, due to our height different, hover in line with my forehead; full and so incredibly tempting. That is until his wondering hand tightens, slowly squeezing the flesh of my behind through the tight material of my dress, his eyes never leaving mine, when suddenly I can think of nothing else.

Fuck, I sigh inwardly, feeling that jolt again, deep in my gut, but this time it tugged right at the muscles in my core. I bit my lip involuntarily to stifle any sound, not that it could be heard over the pounding music, anyway.

Before I know what I'm doing, I find myself moving south of his belt, which I had still been gripping, and squeezing his behind right back. His face is a picture of astonishment that thrills me and sets my blood ablaze. See, I want to say. Two can play at your game... Christian.

A moment later his face broke out into a smug smile, as his grip tightened painfully on my buttock in retaliation. The breath is robbed from my lungs as I smirk right into his face, letting him know I'm enjoying his audacity. I slip away from him, twirling into a gap, enjoying the catchy beat as it began. I turn, knowing Christian is watching, and wink, lowering my hips so I drop as low as I can. Usually, when I'm sober, I can barely move in such a way, but with the help of alcohol I definitely become at least a tiny bit flexible. While I have very poor balance from day to day, at least under the influence people expect that and don't question someone swaying or falling. I bend forward, shamelessly sticking out my behind and moving it in time with the heavy bass. I know he's watching as he comes up behind me, his front brushes my behind. I shudder as a jolt shocks through me, feeling like ice is sliding down my back. At first, I never intended to be so provocative, however, as I feel the rocketing high of this desire, I realise I had never craved anyone sexually before in twenty-two years of life, but boy did I want this man. All the pent up desire of my entire adolescent life has arrived with a vengeance and I'll be damned if I deny it now.

I feel his hands ghost my sides as I move against him, pleased Kate made me wear such a figure-hugging dress now. We move together, the colours of the room swirling in my vision like a most captivating kaleidoscope. I turn and find myself at his side, his hand around my waist. The world seems to slow down in its cycle of rotation, the room seems to melt away, as, suddenly, I am on my toes and his lips are against mine, all warm and moist and strong, sucking on my lower lip. It feels so foreign, having another persons lips move against yours, but with this man, it was like suddenly my body was numb yet on fire, all at once. I note the slight chaffing of this almost none existent stubble I hadn't noticed scraping across my face. Not sure exactly how to move my lips, I let him guide me, as I touch my tongue to his as it slips into my mouth, letting out a audible sigh at the sensation of such an internal and integral part of the human body becoming connected, touching... I graze my teeth over his bottom lip as he pulls away, easing my lips to the corner of his, suckling for a moment on his jawbone. I draw back from him and it is as though I have been in a trance and just woken up.

Woah... Did I just make out with someone? Did someone just willingly make out with me?

"Oi, oi!" came the jeer from Elliot, and it's only then I realise that the entirety of Elliot's group were watching us, grinning and hollering. I blush hard, noting Kate wink at me very ostentatiously. Wow, Kate. Smooth.

"That's a mighty fine blush you have there... Anastasia," came a rumble of that beautiful voice again in my ear, punctuated a second later by a sharp strike to my buttock, causing me to jump and bite my lip simultaneously, caging in a gasp, but barely. He slips away, his gaze lingering on me as he heads toward the bathroom. Once he's gone, I feel myself trembling, recognising this purely as a comedown from an incredibly first high. Kate and Elliott have turned into Cheshire cats as they pull me out onto the deck.

"My, my, Miss Ana, you saucy devil. How did you manage to hook and reel my brother?"

I grin, unable to act nonchalant and cool as I know I should. "I have no idea. I literally," the word draws out in a typically slurring fashion, "never do this."

"Literally, she never does," Kate pipes up as she sips aggressively on a straw.

"Neither does he!" Elliot admonished drunkly, gesturing wildly.

What?

"Yeah, okay," I counter, sarcastically, squinting at him. He simply raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips as if to say 'No seriously'. I frown. Surely not...

We dance in a blur of colour and electricity, but it's not the same without Him. I soon realise the heat of the room was brought on almost entirely by his gaze on my body, and like an addict already fixed, I want more...

"Air," I mouth to Kate, she grins sickeningly sweetly at me, almost as though she doesn't see me. I stumble on rubbery legs to the exit, where I find a completely open deck with exotic flowers, looking over the city. Suddenly I'm spellbound by the lights and the colours and the mystery of it all. Millions of people, everywhere, all going about there lives. Eating, drinking, loving, fighting, breathing, fucking...living... and yet here I am, a virgin who has little so little that one kiss has me in overdrive. He must think I'm so pathetic.

"Not a party person, huh?"

His voice shocks me within an inch of my life, as all the breath in my lungs audibly leaves me. He is sat to my right in the darkness, near the edge of the balcony, sliding his phone into his pocket.

"Says the guy always on his phone," I counter without hesitation, grinning at him without reservation. He knows I'm right as he smirks at me, though I'm surprised at the sloppiness of his expression. He had appeared to reserved, sharp, formal before. The crystal tumbler in his hand clinks charmingly, containing even more amber liquid, (no doubt obscenely expensive scotch that could feed a whole county), and suddenly the softness in his features isn't so surprising. I suddenly feel the urge to look to the skies and praise the powers that be for alcohol; mighty, mighty useful liquid bravery.

"Good point well made, An-a-stasia." The staccato rhythm of his name from his lips, the slight alcohol-induced lisp causing a giggle to rise up from inside me that soon infests me completely until I'm fully belly-laughing. I shimmy toward him until I'm perched next to him, looking out at the view of the city, despite the fact that the true captivating sight is in fact in the man beside me.

"No one calls me that, you know." I rest my chin on my shoulder as lean toward him, because, that's flirty, right? "Only you."

There is suddenly warmth seep through my knee, sending shockwaves up my legs and jolting my butterfly infected stomach as I feel his elegant hand gently rest on my kneecap. This long fingers curl over the bone delicately; such a move may appear possessive if it weren't for the gentle nature of the movement and the way his thumb slowly traced absentminded patterns of the lace of my dress. I shiver at the sensation, rather than the night air, which is in fact a welcomingly cool temperature. I raise my eyes to his again, feeling his irises burning into me. He doesn't look away, though he blinks lazily.

"Only me," He whispers with a smile, as though he is pleased with this fact. I nod enthusiastically, unsure what to say. Keep him talking... Then maybe he'll stay...

"How's your liquor?" I reach over and take the tumbler from his hand, deliberately making sure my fingers slide over his, tightening my grip on the seat with my other hand as another jolt of adrenaline spiked. I watch him watch me as I take a long sip, thriving in the distraction of the burn of the alcohol at the back of my throat.

"Better now," he grins, drinking the last of it from the exact same spot that I had drank from. "You're incredibly brazen, Miss..."

"Steele," I smirk. Me? Brazen? Suddenly, there is nothing more hilarious. Amazing really, how alcohol changes perceptions and representations... "I wouldn't say that is true, sir, but a lady never reveals her secrets."

"Is that so?" I watch him as he runs his finger over his lower lip; a slow, deliberate action that has me mesmerised. "The mystery thickens, Miss Steele."

I giggle, a ridiculous sound, and I'm surprised to find he is chuckling with me, a deliciously low, sultry sound that makes me want to feel it vibrate through his chest with my hand.

"That giggle of yours is such a great, great sound." He drags out the second 'great' in a adorably boyish fashion, no doubt all down to the alcohol buzzing through his system. His eyes squint, too, as he smirks, and I begin to realise I may be the more sober of the two of us. "But what is the most most great sound is that voice you have." I find myself unable to look at him as my cheeks burn at his compliments, bashfulness, as ever, my worst enemy. I trace the veins on the back of his hand where it still grasped my knee, intrigued by the way they protrude under his skin, transporting blood throughout his vital organs and life lines.

It suddenly hits me like a freight train. This is a living, breathing man, with blood in his veins and air in his lungs and loves and hates and fears and ambitions and a beautiful face and he wants to spend time with me.

"My voice? Really?" I hate my voice. It's so...unromantic.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and suddenly it's my favourite of all his expressions. "Yes, Anastasia." Suddenly his tone is serious again, husky. I bite my lip to keep from dropping my jaw. I grin after a moment. Man, this is such a high. Where has this man been?

"Such a fucking glorious voice," he whispers, his thumb ghosting down my throat and over my voice box, as I gulp in the wake of his touch. How can my voice be glorious? When he was the glorious one?

I suddenly find this prospect incredibly hilarious, giggling to the point where leaning into his shoulder to maintain it seems the only option. His crisp shirt is suddenly under my nose, the warmth of his skin seeping though, making my fingers itch to touch him more. He smells divine, almost like Ray. Ray... What a lovely man... Why can't more men be like Ray?

"Is...that Old Spice I smell?" I question as I lift my head from his bicep, my face inches from his. It's only them that I see the look on his face. He looks...conflicted...confused...intrigued?

His brow is furrowed, lines appearing between his dark brows, as he looks at me as though I'm an unfathomable, unanswered question. What did I do? "Yes," he murmurs, clearing his throat, "how did you know?"

How did I know? Oh, yes... Why was it getting so hard to follow my own thoughts? "Ray," I say, rather abruptly, shaking my head in mirth. "My dad...Ray... He's old fashioned. Classic. He wears it."

"Ah... So that's where you get it from," Christian replies, and not its my turn to frown. What was he talking about? I'm not classic. His gaze doesn't falter from my face even once. I swallow, bemused as to while he insists on staring at me so intently.

"So, what is it you...study, Anastasia?"

I blink numerous times, attempting to steady my slightly swaying environment. How much did I drink? "English Lit."

Christian hums. "Hardy, Brontës..."

I double take. He knows British literature? "Hardy," I smirk in response. "Definitely."

"And you? What do...you...do?" I glance down at my dress and realise my strap had slipped. I reach to pull it up, only for his fingers to replace mine.

"This is a beautiful ensemble you have one tonight, Anastasia."

Wait... That wasn't an answer to my question... "Oh, thank you... It's nothing, though, really. I mean, I do love the twenties, so I tried pretty hard—I mean, the twenties were the last time people we were really, truly classic, you know?—and so I tried... I wasn't sure if it was too slutty for the twenties, with this practically transparent lace and all, but—" I don't realise I haven't drawn breath until he smirks at me.

"Anastasia—"

I instantly slam my jaw shut, feeling the vibration of my clashing teeth throughout my skull. The tone of my full name from his lips so wrong...but suddenly I don't know how I'm going to live without it in my life. "—It's just Ana," I counter in a whisper, breathlessly.

The olive skin of his face is suddenly all I can think about, the tiny traces of stubble like a map of unknown constellations in an unknown new sky. Such long lashes, dark eyes, full, strong lips with a beautifully symmetrical Cupid's bow. I must look like a gangly, awkward pale little lamb next to this lion of a man... So, why am I not afraid?

"Ana," he purrs, his large hands suddenly framing my face. "How I want to bite that lip."

I instantly release my lower lip from my teeth, arching my brow at his audacity, leaning into him enough to smell nothing but him. I'd never been so close to another human being before, never felt the hum of electric energy. How have I ever lived without it?

I lean up before I can second guess myself and I kiss him firmly, taking his lower lip between my teeth. A primal growl erupts from his chest, and suddenly his hands are everywhere; groping at my back, my bottom, my face, my hair, as I struggle to anchor myself to reality. His lips are hotter than before, moisture from his mouth spreading across mine as he kisses me, over and over. I try my best to keep up, to give equal fight in my kisses, but I find myself rolling my head back and giving him access to my neck as burrows his head ere, nipping with his teeth.

"Never don't wear twenties clothing, Anastasia," he praised as he draw back to gaze without reservation at my cleavage as he sucked on my clavicle. I reach up bravely and tug his, now messy, quiff. "I'm not sure that made gram..." I pause, struggling with the syllables. "...grammatical sense, smartass." He grumbles, nipping the top of my exposed breast in retaliation, and I grin, my breasts rising and falling rapidly as his content touch caused my heart-rate to become erratic. His salvia leaves goosebumps in its wake, as the warmth of him mouth is missed each time it moves on. I shudder, wanting nothing more than to run my hands through his dark, slightly auburn hair, but when I lift my hands, his are suddenly at my wrists, holding them tight behind my back, therefore thrusting my breasts forward towards his face. Woah. He's strong... That is worryingly arousing. I hold his gaze, pretending I don't notice the slightly bewildered look that flashes across his face, and beam. Christian's thumb traces my cheek, up to my brow, as though studying my face, the serenity of the moment calming my thundering heart.

"You are...exquisite," he utters with an air of disbelief, as though he is seeing something totally unknown. "Do you know that?"

I gawp at him, swallowing hard as I attempt to gather my scattered thoughts. How does one answer such a question?

Suddenly though, a whirlwind arrived. "Ana!" Kate bounds toward us, screeching giddily, and I cringe at the painful sound. "Oh, Ana! Hot Mr. Grumpy?! You hooked in Mr. Grumpy?! Shit, Miss Steele, so naughty, and we all thought you were nun, and here you are—"

I instantly want the world to swallow me up and feel like crying when I realise a moment later that that isn't going to happen. "Kate!" I grit my teeth, giving her my best, most subtle glare that says 'get the fuck out of here', but the damage is done. I see the change in Christian's face, instantly, as he regards me suddenly as though I have grown a growth on my face. He doesn't speak as Kate googles and bobs around us, his eyes on me just as before, but this time I can't even look at him. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling all too flushed and frustrated for my liking. Kate takes my hand and drags me away, which as me panicked as I know that Christian might be watching me walk away. Self conscious murmurs become loud, obnoxious shouts as I worry he'll find the way by body moves repulsive. So, I return back to my default; I watch my feet as Kate leads me, attempting to straighten the angle of my lower legs and the posture of my back. I hear Christian barking into his phone just as I step through the door and into the wall of noise and hilarity of the main party room, and suddenly it's as though I can breathe again, once I'm out of his sight.

It's not until I slam the door shut on the toilet stall that I realise my entire body is still trembling. It does so long after the beautiful stranger has gone.