Forbidden Sparks

[chapter twenty one]

| Forbidden Sparks |
[chapter twenty one]
(Acacia's p.o.v.)
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October 18th.

The night it all happened. The night I turned my life upside down and inside out. The night I turned all my 'no's' into a 'yes'.

The night I gave in and made out with Brody Matthews.

              Yes, I know. It seems ludicrous that all of this internal conflict and drama happened a mere few weeks ago. Almost exactly a month ago. Maybe I am being overdramatic, but this was a big deal to me.

              I had made a point to make only the right decisions in my life. Especially since Adrian. After that dark period in my life, I vowed to do the right thing. And I broke that promise to myself -- for what? A kiss?

Was it worth? Dear god, I fucking hope so.  It better be. But it doesn't mean I can't reminisce on what might have been the highest anticipated moment of my entire lifetime.
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Frat parties.

The only way for most college kids to get full access to alcohol and get laid.

At this point, vodka was the only thing saving me from not totally wanting to die. The only reason I even showed up is because earlier Brody put me on the spot and asked me to come. Knowing he wanted me here, made me excited to come.

But now that I'm here, I haven't seen Brody yet. Aspen is outside with Kellan probably developing an STD. And my dear friend, Holly, is nowhere to be found. Of course. So, here I am, chilling with my only friend in sight: alcohol.

Just as I was about to take another shot, making it my sixth of the night, I felt a hand placed on the small of my back.

I immediately turned to curse whatever drunk pig tried to touch me, but I diffused when I came to face to face with one of my favorite faces. Brody's.

"Sparks! You made it! Glad you came. " He flashed me one of his award-winning smiles.

          "Yeah, me too, Matthews." My eyes trailed him up and down; soaking him in as best I could. He was wearing a vintage, ripped up Nirvana t-shirt that probably cost way more than it should have. But his body looked incredible in it, so I'm not complaining.

          "But if you want me to stay, you better have a drink with me." I said boldly. It was the vodka talking. My favorite kind of courage; the liquid kind.

         I could feel him gazing at me with pleasant surprise. It was a familiar look he'd often give me when I flirted with him in a less subtle than normal way. 

           "I guess we should start drinking then."

        We had our drink together, (his second, my seventh) Jesus, I sound like an alcoholic. I'm not I swear.

       After some small talk and tipsy flirting, things seemed to change between us. It was no longer the familiar type of flirting we were used to. The type I was comfortable with. The game we often played where we'd subtly flirt and never act on it, suddenly disappeared. Just walked right out the front door, along with the space between us. There was a different energy in the air. Something new and dangerous.