The Bad Boy and the Nerd, Typical

Chapter 12: What Can You Do

Ryder's POV:

My brain throbbed and pulsed against my skull, making a continuous rhythm of pain emit throughout my body. A familiar scent of alcohol covered my being from head to toe, and I cringed at the memories of last night.

What the hell, Ryder? What were you thinking?

I don't know in all honesty. I just remember getting angry. I remember the rage setting in and my thoughts jumbling. I wanted one thing. I wanted a sickening sweet addiction. I wanted something to numb the bad feelings and ignite the good. I wanted something to make me have a good time and feel something other than the constant ache of nothing. I wanted something happy.

At the time I thought I wanted vodka. I thought I wanted the stinging burn as it slid down my swollen throat as my skin splotched red with drunken blood. I just assumed the sweet addiction to numb the pain was the poison fruit. I just figured I was right.

But I wasn't. I don't know what I wanted or needed. I still crave it. Shot after shot and drunken kiss after kiss, I found that the pain still clenched my chest. Even after my name slipped my head, I knew I needed something that wasn't with me but I had.

I remember speeding to the club my father owned once but gave to me, checking in through the back. I remember flagging down a waitress and flashing a card before she could read the date and see I was only 19. I remember the six shots slitting my throat with what felt like blades, but by now I was accustomed to the familiar pain. I vaguely recall grinding against girls, my lips pressed to their necks as my fingers trailed slowly past their hips. I regret the bathroom bang with the petite blonde with too much makeup.

My god do I regret it all.

I was still lingering in the club as of now. Four in the morning and I'm pacing in my office. I passed out on the black leather couch at around one in the morning, the burning after taste of the recent whiskey I had downed still running through my system when my eyelids had closed. Hours later I still felt a slight buzz radiating through my core as I clamped my hands into tight fists.

I'm forgetting something from yesterday. I know I am. I just can't place what I'm missing.

I huffed lowly, shrugging on my leather jacket. Anger pushed through me as I slammed my office door shut behind me, a clatter of things falling in suit.

"Leaving so soon," a faint voice purred, a gentle finger trailing down the spine of my back, "I didn't even get to say hello."

I swore under my breath, my heart thumping with a growing distaste, "Shelby."

"Mhmmm," she hummed in an attempt to be seductive, "I love when you say my name, Babe."

I hated being called anything along the lines of babe or baby. And coming from her lips made my feelings grow.

"What are you doing here," I dead panned, continuing to walk to the exit, "I thought I removed you from the admitting list."

"Oh, honey, you did," Shelby said coldly, but she quickly switched to a purr, "but we always got together on Fridays. Our office was our usual hook up. I figured you wanted me as I want you."

She placed herself in front of me, her hand pressing my chest. Scared of running her over, I paused in my spot. I growled lowly but not out of pleasure.

"Please take me," she hummed as she kissed against my jaw, "I'll beg."

I grunted, unmoving. Her tall, slender frame pressed against me, forcing my body against the wall. Her hands tangled in my hair but I wasn't reacting. I just wanted to go home.