Amnesia • Calum Hood

•Chapter Twelve•

I tried not to look. 

I really did. 

I even sat in a seat that was facing away from him.  But any time Calum and I were in the same room, I couldn't avoid him.  His magnetic pull was active and firing even now, drawing me in despite my hardest attempts.

Charles wasn't much of a help.  Maybe if I liked him more, I could use him as a better distraction.  But he was clearly uncomfortable being here with me, out of his prissy-boy element in this dirty, crowded bar.

Scowling, I pulled the bar nuts my way and cracked into the shell of one, popping it into my mouth and chewing angrily.  Charles chuckled nervously, adjusting the tight collar of his shirt and clearing his throat.

"So...uh, I take it you're more of a beer person, huh?" he said awkwardly, trying to appear charming but failing miserably.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and cracked another bar nut.  "Wine has always been too snobbish for my taste."

He scoffed lightly, as if I'd offended him.  God, I couldn't have picked a worse date, could I? 

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and tried to ignore how desperately my body wanted to turn around and watch Calum.  I couldn't, absolutely would not, take a peek at him sucking face with some redheaded boob-job on legs.  It would just hurt, and I did not need yet another disappointment tonight.

So to keep myself occupied, I looked around at the other people in the club instead.  A clear bit of flooring made a dance space, where couples and total strangers grinded on one another like porn stars.  I laughed softly as some girl in five inch heels toppled over into a guy so smashed he fell right down with her.  It was like some sloppy love story, and in my head I imagined them falling in love and reminiscing on this moment for the rest of their lives.

It was a nice image, but it was kind of ruined by her slapping him in the face and stepping right on his foot with the back of her heel.  So much for romance.

Alcohol.  I needed alcohol.

"I'll be right back," I mumbled to Charles, but he was too busy mussing his hair and frowning into the reflection of his expensive sunglasses to notice me get up.  I stalked over to the bar and leaned against the counter, licking my lips as I waited for the bartender to turn around.

"Scotch, please," I said, and he nodded before moving to make my drink.  Pursing my lips, I tapped my fingernails against the tabletop and glanced around.  I recalled being in this bar before, once or twice maybe.  I think I went with Michael once, a few days after my eighteenth birthday when I could legally drink.

I remembered my first drink of alcohol so vividly.  I was fifteen, way too young to be drinking but feeling risky and daring.  I was at some party a guy from my school was hosting, and he had broken out the booze in his parents cabinets.  I was sitting in a circle of people, my friends flocking me at the sides as I was dared to take a long shot.

Fresh-faced and young, I had stared incredulously at the snivelous boy who made the dare.  "B-but what if I get in trouble?" I stuttered, gripping the bottle I was handed tentatively.  Everyone laughed at me, and goaded me on.

I remember taking a sniff of the bottle, and nearly throwing up on the spot.  When I glanced up, my eyes met one person's gaze, who was standing a little ways off in the crowd.

It was Calum.

He was never exactly in with the people I hung out around, and so at the party he kind of shadowed us.  I'd met him a few days earlier, and now, looking deep into his eyes, I saw how worried he was for me.