"I like my night skies to be blue,
Blue as you."
Blue as you by Shawn Mullins

Chapter Thirteen:

Trent stops for a fleeting moment, gaping at me as if I've grown two heads, before he slowly nods. “That's my girl.” He gives me a saucy wink, before he takes off toward the bar, with Alexa shadowing him.

I feel their scrutinizing gazes at me, but I choose to evade them, leaning back in my stool and quickly scanning the deranged crowd. Eventually, my meandering eyes resort to Dylan's, and he doesn't disappoint. I find his profound gaze already fixated on me, and I look back, making sure I give him the same treatment. Suddenly, his shocked face changes, his open mouth dissolving into a smirk, before he looks away, the snide smile still grazing his lips.

I let my gaze stray too, tapping my fingers on the table to the sprightly rhythm of Sia’s “Never Give Up”, and it's not because I want to dance a shimmy. I was thinking of nothing but challenge when I ordered that drink. It's not like the first time I drink alcohol, I've done it many times before when I was underage, but it's been long since I've tasted a sip of booze. I swore I'd never do it again after the last time, but I'm so hard-nosed, and it's not so exacting for someone to pull my trigger. And oh boy, does he do it so well.

The nonexistent conversation launches into laughter when Trent and Alexa come back with our drinks, but I'm only sentient of the bashing of my heartbeats against my chest. I try my best to look normal, but I can't bypass the way Dylan is staring at me as if I'm going to flop and make an ass out of myself.

I regard the cocktail in front of me. It looks so magnetic, with sugar coating its rim. I look up, and incidentally, my eyes meet Dylan's again. He simply has a bottle of beer in his hand, the lip of it brushing his bottom lip. I can't help but stare, and his lips tardily and sultrily spread into a teasing smile, causing my eyes to shoot up to meet his once more. He takes a swig of his beer, and his throat works as he swallows, all under my concentrated stare. He looks at the glass in front of me for a second, stroking his chin on a frown, before his gaze moves upwards to looks at me. He raises his beer, pointing it in my direction. “To Candice's first true drink with us.” He winks devilishly, before taking another swig.

Everyone cheers, and I discern Claire smirking, raising her Margarita up at me. I grab my glass before overthinking it, and down half of it, hiding a wince. The drink is eccentric. I've never had something like it before, but it's not bad either. It has the perfect mix of sweetness and sourness, but I decide it's not my thing. I look around, expecting everyone to be gaping at me, but I find the contrary. Trent is in a deep conversation with Alexa, who's twirling her bangs around her fingers, and giggling at whatever he says. However, I find Dylan watching me, leaving an ear for Claire's fiddling talk. His eyes keep darting between us, chuckling, and I have a feeling it's not at her.

I take another sip, and I feel it. The dose of dopamine swarming my tense brain, making me feel a little fuzzy, and dulling my bustling thoughts. Uncontrollably, a smile plants itself on my mouth, and it leisurely but surely grows into a grin. Shit. Am I going to make a fool out of myself before finishing one drink? I shake my head, facing Logan, and I thank God when I find his eyes riveted on his phone. He looks up when he feels my gaze on him, smiling immediately. “Wanna dance?”

I titter, repeatedly shaking my head. “Oh no. I don't dance.”

I hear a snort emanating from Trent's direction, and I start to shoot him a dirty look, but he's not looking at me, however, the smirk is evident on his face.

“Dylan? Hi!” A revoltingly sweet voice interposes, drawing our attention to the intruder. Standing beside Dylan is a tall redhead with an oval-shaped face. She's wearing a short, black, strapless dress, showing off her delicate curves, and over it is an off-shoulder zip-up bomber. She looks around the table, spying us, before her puckered up lips curl into a friendly smile.

She's the girl from the portrait.

Dylan looks up, a frown grazing his forehead. “Melissa.” He states, his frown morphing into a confused smile, and my feet start to frantically tap against the wooden ground. “What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I'm here with my friends. I didn't expect you to be here, though.” She admits, and I descry a funny smile on her face, as if she's feeling excited. Hopeful even.

“Actually, I'm always here, you're the one I haven't seen here before.” He shrugs, nonchalance radiating off him.

She nods, eyeing us with an awkward expression on her face. “Are they your friends?” She asks shyly, and her pale skin gives me the impression that if it wasn't for the blurry lights, her face would be blooming red.

Looks like our girl here has a crush.

“Yeah.” Dylan nods, his frown appearing back, more pronounced than before. “Do you have a moment?” He asks Melissa, standing up.

Her face breaks out in an even bigger smile. “Of course.” And just like that, they walk away toward the bar.

Is he going to buy her a drink?

Why do I even care?

“Who the fuck is that?” Claire blats, her eyes swimming with fury.

“Probably his friend.” Logan offers.

Claire snorts, taking a sip of her Margarita. “I'm not surprised. He's got his fair collection of weird friends.” She avouchs, and I feel her scowl on me, but my attention is elsewhere.

My eyes track Dylan and his “weird” friend all the way to the bar, until she occupies a stool. I expect Dylan to sit with her, but he doesn't. Instead, he hovers over her, and they exchange a few words, before he scrams, making his way back toward our table. She looks over her shoulder at him, shaking her head, before she raises her hand to order something.

“Looks like it's one of his fucktoys after all.” Claire sneers, looking bored.

Once Dylan is settled back in his seat, Trent asks, making a mocking tsking sound. “One-night stand gone wrong?”

Dylan hums indifferently. “You could say that.”

What? I thought he was faithful to his dead girlfriend! And why would he draw a painting of a girl he doesn't care about?

“She's hot though.” Trent remarks, one side of his mouth quirking up.

Claire snickers. “I thought you were into blondes.”

“I was before I saw you.” Trent jokes, and a few snorts erupt from us.

Claire rolls her eyes, before she asks Dylan to dance with her, which is met by rejection. I can't help but smile to myself.

“Let's dance, Logan. Someone is being a jerk tonight.” Claire says, bracing her hands on the table and sliding off her stool. Logan lackadaisically follows her.

David Guetta’s Hey Mama hollers through the speakers, and Alexa is fleetly set into motion, hopping off her stool and clapping her hands in enthusiasm. “I love that song! Let's dance!” She stands, pulling Trent by the arm. He laughs, halting beside me before he bends down to yell in my ear. “Easy on the boy.” He backs away, pressing his lips together to suppress his laughter, and follows Alexa to the dance floor.

Now I'm left with the alpha of the pack.

I possess a natural expression, and speak precisely what I had in mind. “Why draw a painting of someone you only slept with?” I muse, cocking my head to the side.

Dylan rolls his shoulder, a frown marring his forehead, and I'm left to wonder if he's recalling a memory with her. “It's funny how much you can feel solely through physical contact, and what you saw in that portrait is what exactly I felt in her. The fear of something chasing her. It's not necessarily true, but it's just a feeling I got, and it's not like I waited to see the truth.”

“That's why you ditched her? Because you saw something dark in her?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek. Does he see the darkness in me?

“I ditched her because I'm not interested in her, much less attachment.” He clarifies, his eyes poring into mine.

I nod, looking away, before I take another sip of my cocktail. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him sliding off his stool, before he shifts, hopping up on the stool next to mine.

“This is not how you do it, Candy.” I hear him rasping in my ear, and my body flares up in goose bumps. I drag a long breath through my nose, my hands clenching into fists, and I'm not confident whether I want to punch him with them or yank him so close that the air fails to breeze through.

He curls his long fingers around the cocktail glass, raising it toward his mouth. He stops for a moment, spying the sugar-rimmed glass, before he moves it closer to his mouth. I stifle a gasp when his tongue slips out and performs an enticing display of licking the sugar-coated rim, before taking a sip. His cheeks are slightly sucked in when he swirls the vodka in his mouth, savoring its taste, before he swallows, his Adam's apple moving as he does. I nearly pass out, my eyes growing heavy, and it's not from sleep. He looks up at me, his eyes so dark and blazing with desire. I know it because I feel it deep in my bones. He puts the glass back down on the table, before he inches closer to my ear, and this time I feel it.

His lips touching my ear.

My hands clutch the ends of my stool in a death grip, my heart ferociously beating, as if I've been running for miles nonstop, delicious tingles travelling down my spine. I never thought his wet mouth against my ear would drive me so crazy and leave me wanting like this. “Sugary. It makes me wonder whether you taste just as sweet, Candy.”

I suck in a stunned breath, my eyes widening in shock, and the muscles in my body stiffening to a painful degree. I can't help it. I turn my face to look directly at him, and I'm awestruck by how close he is, mere inches between our faces. I take another breath in, respiring his alluring cologne. “You have no boundaries.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, it takes one to know one then.” He says, his eyes dropping to my lips. I try to appear composed, but the uncontrollable rising and falling of my chest gives away my nervousness. His eyes keep darting between my eyes and lips, as if conflicted, before they finally settle on my eyes, and a vision contest commences. He stares so deep in my eyes, his eyes swimming with lust. I don't know how much time elapses before a look passes over his eyes, clouding them even more, and leaving his face a splintered puzzle. He abruptly pulls back, and just like that, our moment is cut off.

He downs the rest of my drink, before he goes back to peering at me, his face startlingly hard this time. “Cut that crap, Candice. You're not cut out for this world. You're too innocent for us.” He says, his voice clipping with strain. “For me.” He goes on, swallowing, and my heart skips a beat. “Go home.” He commands, before he leaps off his stool, ready to flee.

No happening. Not this time.

I immediately wrap my hand around his wrist, and he skids to a halt. I face him with fury written all over my face. “Too innocent, huh? Ever heard of an innocent girl letting her mother sleep with a stranger for a blue dress?” I drop the bomb, and immediately regret it.

I did not just say that. I must be hallucinating.

My hand goes lax around his wrist, and I inhale loudly, slowly retreating toward the restroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him still standing there, frozen. I walk faster, not caring if it looks like I'm running off. I just keep going.

But I don't make it. Suddenly, I'm yanked back by the elbow, and the abrupt action prompts me to turn around, ready to make whoever dared to manhandle me regret it. I'm not surprised when I come face-to-face with Dylan, and I start to yell at him before he sneaks an arm around my waist, jerking me closer, and I find myself tumbling into him with surprise and helplessness. “It's a good thing we're both fucked up, then.” He breathlessly murmurs, before smashing his mouth against mine.

________
Important AN:
The next two chapters are available on Radish for free!+ 4 more if you're willing to pay, otherwise, every chapter automatically unlocks after 7 days. My username on Radish is the same on Wattpad (Raghdanezzat).

On Wattpad, a chapter will be added on Tuesday each week, which means that there will be no more stopping! As for Radish Fiction, there's no fixed schedule. I write whenever I feel like it, and as long as I don't have a writer's block, I try to use my clear mind as much as I can.

In case you haven't noticed, the version of Blues on Radish is kind of edited, and there are some changes. Nothing drastic, but checking out the first couple of chapters–including the prologue–is preferable.

BTW, I started using Twitter recently, and my username is also "Raghdanezzat". Hey! Follow me! I'll follow back x.

Thanks again for being patient. I love you all. *inserts hearts and flowers*

Raghda