This Saturday night is going the same as any other. The party is no different from previous ones, it's just the same shit on repeat, for me anyway.
I'm drugged up, fucked up, dancing in the middle of some person I don't know's living room. Kennedy and Bella are giggly drunk, at that perfect level. The tricky part of being at that comfortable drunk is maintaining it. These girls are used to it though. I tend to stop only a drink away from blacking out.
I've mentally drifted away from Kennedy and Bella. I've been away from them a while now. The two girls never did anything wrong; I got jealous. I'm jealous that they can go out on weekends, recreationally drink, do good in school during the week and have genuine smiles while they do so. Seeing my friends happy used to bring a small smile to my face, now it makes me grimace in disgust and envy.
I don't believe either girl truly felt close to me anyway. If they did, wouldn't they notice how far I've drifted?
Maverick had made his exit from the living room to go get more drinks for the girls. But I hadn't realized how long he'd been gone until Kennedy spoke up.
"Where the hell is Maverick?" She asks, still dancing as she rises to her tippy toes, head swiveling around to look through the crowd. "It doesn't take ten minutes to get a drink." She huffs impatiently.
I slowed my dancing down to a stop as I searched the room as well, not seeing any sign of his tall, large frame.
"He probably went to the bathroom or something." Bella waves a dismissive hand, not giving his absence a second thought.
"Let's just go get our own drinks." Kennedy insists, taking hold of Bella's wrist.
"I'll go find Maverick." I tell the girls before Kennedy drags Bella through the room.
Normally, it would be believable for someone to use the restroom real quick, get the drinks, maybe even get caught in a conversation and then come back. Maverick isn't like that though, he's weird. Before doing anything he tells us where he's going and how long he'll be gone. And if he doesn't plan on telling you where he's going, he will still tell you how long he'll be.
So naturally, my mind goes to the darkest place. He sells drugs, what if he got hurt? What if guys at a party are somewhere in here starting something with him? If he knew he was going to be gone a while, he would've came back and let me know, right?
I begin knocking on closed doors, listening for people on the other side to tell me it's occupied. I'm turning away from three different rooms.
When I get to the fourth shut door, I tap my knuckles against the wood, inching my head closer to hear over the music. When no sound comes through, I twist the handle, opening it up to make sure no one's in there.
Maverick doesn't notice me standing in the doorway.
But Malachi does.
Maverick is bent over the dresser up against the wall. He's holding a tube between his thumb and index finger. One end of the tube is being held up to his right nostril as the other end hovers over a thin line of white powder.
In one swift motion, he drags the tube along the power, making a loud sniff in the process.
Malachi, standing at the end of the dresser, facing my direction, is staring at me with a smirk.
"Oh so we do cocaine now?" I finally announce my presence, looking between the two men.
The tube drops from between Maverick's fingers at the sound of my voice. Straightening his posture, he looks over at me.
"Are you ever capable of minding your business, Lilliana?" Maverick asks, looking away from me as he gathers his stuff from the dresser into a baggie and stashing it in his front pant pocket.
"We both know the answer to that." I tell him as I step into the room far enough to close the door behind me.
Malachi, who steps forward to stand next to Maverick, says, "You know, although it's an uncomfortable situation; catching Maverick snorting a line of coke...it's nice to finally all be in the same place, don't you guys think?"
Maverick peers over at Malachi with a twisted expression. "Read the room."
Malachi puts his hands up in mock surrender.
"So let me try some." I demand, putting a hand on my hip.
Maverick, looking at me with an even more twisted expression, quickly comes back with, "Yeah fucking right."
"But look at her." Malachi extends an arm in my direction. "How can you say no?"
The smile that forms on my face doesn't come from Malachi's words about me, it comes from Maverick's reaction to them.
"Watch what you say." Maverick says in a tone I've never heard him use before. It's dark, dominant...sexy. "And I tell her 'no' easily." He says, red rimmed eyes pointed at me.
"You do appear high enough already." Malachi points out, giving me a once over.
He's right; I am very high. Which is exactly why I take a few steps across the room towards the men.
"Fine. If you won't let me do that, then you owe me a blunt." I tell Maverick, coming to stand right in front of him.
Maverick doesn't move his head, he just lowers his eyes to look down at me as Malachi stands nexts to us wearing a smile of amusement.
Keeping my gaze on his, I reach a hand down into his front pocket, wrapping my fingers around one of the tubes he puts his pre-rolled blunts in.
My lips turn upwards as Maverick tilts his head back, studying the ceiling for a moment before looking back down at me.
I pull my hand out, popping open the cap and taking the blunt out.
"Don't you find it odd that you got what you wanted but she's still getting something she wants too?" Malachi asks, leaning to the side, closer to Maverick and using a low voice as if I'm not standing right here.
"You get used to it." Maverick says in a forced, disinterested manner.
Malachi passes me a grey lighter, allowing me to ignite the end of the blunt.
I'm not sure if it's the plethora of substances Maverick has taken tonight or what, but I can tell I'm getting to him. He's trying extra hard to pretend I'm not.
It's not completely unusual for him and I to get close, physically touch but it's never in such a suggestive manner like it was just now. Whenever we watch a movie, my legs drape over his lap and he'll massage my calves and feet. Often, he will guide me wherever we're going by holding my hand or placing his on the small of my back. Situations like these never felt like we were pushing the boundaries of our friendship.
It's satisfying to know that I'm able to make him squirm.
"Out." Maverick orders, putting a hand on my hip and spinning me around to face the door. "Let's go."
I let Maverick usher me out the door, making sure I don't stall.
I had finished the blunt almost entirely to myself, taken a handful more shots and I officially feel like I'm floating.
Quinton, who isn't as much of a drinker, had exceeded his limit. About an hour ago, he found out he is a pro at beer pong. He's been playing ever since. The catch at these parties is; it's not beer, it's half shots of vodka. He does have in common with us that he isn't a quitter. Quinton threw up and came back to the party more alive than he was when he left. "Round two." He had said.
Kennedy and Bella have still kept that consistent level of being drunk enough to slur their words and sound a bit delusional but not enough to vomit or get tired.
Malachi disappeared at some point soon after rejoining the group. He really only stayed long enough to greet the two girls and tell Quinton he "out to go home and sleep it off."
It gives me an eerie feeling; Malachi's run in's with me being so fleeting. Not to mention his 'stalking'. It makes me all the more suspicious of Maverick's involvement with him. If he really won't ever tell me himself what they do together, I'll have to do some stalking of my own.
Maverick, sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette but looking as though if he doesn't know if he wants to stay put or get up. The mixture of cocaine and other drugs is causing an internal battle.
I take this opportunity to test Maverick's limits when it comes to me.
Walking over to him nonchalantly, I drop down into his lap, pretending as though it's natural.
"Lilliana." Maverick's voice comes out as a warning, which encourages me further.
Honestly, I might be testing my limits with him too.
Maverick's legs had been sprawled out before him, spread apart with an elbow placed against the armrest. At this angle, even though Maverick isn't hard, I can still feel his bulge through his jeans.
"What?" I turn my head to the side to look over my shoulder at him. "Is this bothering you?"
As I turn my head back around, Maverick lets out an indifferent breath, saying, "Forgive me if I'm not used to you just sitting on my lap out of no where."
"I mean, if it's making you feel some type of way then just say so. I'll get up." I tell him teasingly.
"Don't flatter yourself." He replies, taking a drag off the cigarette before flicking the ashes in the ashtray on the end table to our left.
"You know, I'm one step closer to figuring out what else you do, right?" I take a sip from my cup I'm holding.
"How you figure that?" He asks.
I shrug, smiling to myself. "Well, I finally got to talk to you and Malachi at the same time. I'm officially in. The more I'm around you guys now, the more I'll find out."
He chuckles lowly, the sound giving me goosebumps. "You won't be around us." He informs me mockingly. "Tonight was a coincidence, an accident."
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I'm still gonna figure it out."
"Do as you please." He taps his cigarette out as it's reached the filter.
A song we both like comes on. I can feel Maverick nodding his head along to the beat. That's when I get a wicked idea.
I make it seem as ordinary as possible, singing along to the words of the song and rocking my hips from side to side.
The first rock to the left was enough to make my entire body heat up, feeling him pressed against me.
Maverick barely lets me finish moving my hips to the right before he stops me.
His hands quickly and firmly find my hips, locking them in place to keep me from moving any more. "What are you doing, Lilliana?" He asks, voice a bit huskier than it naturally is.
"Dancing." I answer innocently.
"No." He states before repeating himself. "What are you doing?"
"I'm so sorry." I apologize, putting my hand against my chest and looking back at him again. "I thought you said it didn't bother you."
The whites of Maverick's eyes are bloodshot, peering at me in part lust and part annoyance. "There's a rather big difference in sitting on my lap and grinding on me, Lilliana. You know what you're doing."
"I really didn't have a plan, Maverick." I lie. "Don't blame me for getting turned on."
Maverick's grip on my hips tighten as he rises to his feet, taking me with him and planting my feet down in front of his.
"It's a natural reaction, Lilliana." He states as he adjusts the crotch of his jeans. "Besides...I'm not like these other guys you seduce into bed with you; I'm not weak."
"Aren't you though?" I tilt my head a little, my satisfied smile shining for him to get aggravated by. "You couldn't handle the smallest version of a lap dance from me."
"You're a bit too...triumphant for me right now." He observes. "Allow me to omit that by telling you something."
Maverick leans in close enough for his lips to almost brush my ear. Our bodies are ever so slightly grazing one another's, yet it's enough to my whole body heat up.
I suck in a breath as he does the last thing I'm expecting.
His large, right hand wraps around my neck,
All the strength my legs had depletes, like I could melt into Maverick.
"We are not and never will be physical." He whispers in my ear, fingertips pressing harder into my skin. "But if we were...I'd be in control of you sexually too, Lilliana."
With that, he backs away and drops his hand, leaving me to stand there flustered.
"Now I think it's time I take you home."