“You loved me—then what right had you to leave me?” — Heathcliff Earnshaw.
The familiarity of the voice sent shivers down my spine. The intoxicating sensation that reverberated through my whole system because of how he spelled my name. Because of how erotic he made it sound. The sensation of him so close to me, in fact just behind my back, made my stomach churn with anticipation. Straightening my spine, I repeated one resolution in my head, ‘Act cold, Toby. He's manipulative. Act cold. He's a liar.’ He said once that I drove him crazy; but that was a lie. Hence the latter comment.
“What do you want?” The harshness of my tone caught him offguard, when I spun the barstool around it's axis to face him. That was probably a big mistake, because he looked so gorgeous. The usual cold grey eyes, auburn hair slicked at thr back with the finest precision; a tight black shirt whose sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, revealing the strong arms. The dress shirt hugged his body in every way that flaunted his muscles and his athletic grace. The casual trousers that hung lose from his waist had me remembering how good he was in bed. How badly I wanted to fuck him yet again, how badly — Why was I even so desperate for him? Who the fuck was he anyways? But, a spade should be called a spade. This man was a walking addiction.
“Tobias, do you know him?” My attention snapped back to the handsome stranger beside me, before I almost forgot that he did even exist. He looked in between me and Roulette, his attention diverging itself.
“I do know him. And he, me.” Before I could answer Stefan's question, the third person had butted in, glaring daggers at the person seated beside me. Shit, this was taking a bad turn.
“Tobias —” The person beside me called out my name but he was being cut off by a haughty chuckle which the other person apparently couldn’t stifle.
“Harris, I'll have to complement you on your taste. I'm surprised this thing...” He sized the length and breadth of the person infront of him, “knows how to speak.” He stared harder at the object before him, as one might do when they fall infront of a repulsive animal.
Anger streaked in Stefan's eyes, when he abruptly stood up, standing himself high on the ground where Alexander was, after which the latter gave out another laugh, so condescending, that it scraped my ears. This was harassment.
“Are you an ex?” The person who I was chatting with for a few minutes spoke, looking the swimming captain in the eye. The person who was being spoken to guffawed.
“And what gives you the impression that someone like you...” Alexander seethed through his gritted teeth, “can afford to ask me any question at all?” I gulped at this much expected rudeness, but found it odd at the same time. He was with Niall now, wasn’t he? Now why was trying so hard to cock block me?
“Back off, Roulette.” I interrupted, glowering at him for this unreasonable harshness which made Stefan's gaze snap back at me, while the other person furrowed his eyebrows, scowling at my comment.
“You aren't drinking more. You've had enough drinks for the night. Come with me, I’ll leave you wherever you’re staying.” He said in a slight dominating tone, peering to look at me with dazed eyes.
“I have not. And I will rather sleep on the street than go somewhere with you.” I argued, crossing my arms over my chest, standing my ground.
“Then why can I smell alcohol in your breath?” He narrowed his eyes to slit, studying me from top to bottom.
“Because you have no sense of personal space? Aren't you fucking my best friend? Am I telling you how should you fuck him?” The words escaped unfiltered from my mouth, making the whole crowd's attention centre itself on us three, “Then how the fuck you come here playing high fucking king to fuck up my plans for the night!?” I hollered at the top of my voice, making a few people gasp while the others remained motionless, their mouths falling open.
Alexander's jaw went slack, while Stefan's eyes windened, suffocating silence taking over the much crowded room because, no one spoke. No one even moved. The words spoken earlier, has created a bitter distaste in my mouth, while bile continued to rise up in my throat. I fixated my gaze on him, pressing my lips in a hard line, anger boiling in my head. All the bottled up emotions were aching to find their release, my chest rising and falling with increasing trepidation. He parted his mouth, words failing him as I grabbed him by the collar, slamming his back onto the drinks counter top, making the bartenders jump, stepping back in fear. He winced at the sudden impact, his back arching to neutralize the pain of being hit so suddenly.
“You got ‘all you wanted from me’, didn’t you, you heartless dick?” I leaned in, his face just mere inches from my own, and I watched him gaze at me, a myriad of emotions swirling in it, “Do you fucking hate me so much, Alexander? So much that you can't fucking bear to see me happy for once?”