White Lies

Lips as Red as Blood

Blanche's heartbeat quickens as they walk through the bar, uncertain about the intriguing looks shooting their way.

It's okay. This is fine. It's my life. My body. She reminds herself, trying to ignore the murmurs she hears as she searches for Trisha. Why does everyone seem to be talking about her... or is it about the man with her? It has to be.

"Exit is this way." Hunter halts her steps, tugging at her hand. Blanche glances at him as he nods his head towards the front of the bar.

She's hoping he doesn't feel the clamminess of her hand. "I have to tell my friends I'm leaving."

"What?"

They really should turn down the music in here.

Blanche steps towards Hunter, placing a hand on the tight shirt on chest. She pulls on the jersey fabric, trying to get him to tilt his head lower. And succeeds. "I have to let my friends know that I'm leaving," she shouts in his ear.

She doesn't wait for him to answer. He tugs her back, but when she glances over her shoulder again, he releases a huff, shakes his head and steps forward with her. They find Trisha grinding against Troy on the dance floor. Trisha's lips pull up in the corners when she sees Blanche. The smile widens even more when she spots the tall, all-male powerhouse behind her friend.

If it isn't so dark in the club, Trisha would be able to see Blanche blush. Blanche lets go of Hunter's hand when Trisha starts dancing provocatively towards her way.

"I'm leaving!" Blanche yells in her friend's ear as Trisha slides both her arms over her shoulders, and repeats the same dance routine she's seen her friend do with Troy.

Trisha laughs heartily. "Of course you are!" Then, she gives her a tight hug. "Have a great time. You deserve it." Trisha glances at the hunky man's direction. "Damn, girl! I'm so freaking proud of you. You have your phone?"

In reality, it is code between two friends. Is Blanche sure of her decisions? Does she feel safe? Both questions are answered by a nod. "I won't wait up!" she tells Bee, trusting her friend's intuition, and remembering all the classes Bee has taken in self-defense when she first came into the city. Trisha slips the strap of a small clutch around Bee's wrist.

With another squeeze and a quick peck on Blanche's cheek, Trisha lets go of her. She waves at the stranger standing tersely, trying to keep distance from the rest of the dancers. The man doesn't wave back. He seems perturbed by all the movements around him. He places a hand on the small of Blanche's back, leading her out the bar.

Thankful for the three drinks she has had earlier, Blanche's heart doesn't flip as much as soon as they hit the pavement. But she does feel a tickle in the back of her throat. Is she about to hurl in front of this mysterious guy? She watches Hunter nod at the bouncer, and the man nods back. Hunter points at something in the far distance. The bouncer looks towards the direction, and then nods at Hunter again.

Men are weird. She thinks inwardly, amazed at how men can communicate without words. Although, Hunter doesn't appear to be the talkative type.

"My place is a couple of blocks away," Hunter informs her, carefully directing her to cross the street.

"Oh, your place." Blanche didn't even think about it. She is not the type of girl to pick up a boy--correction--a man at a bar. Much less someone as hot and huge, in more ways than one--judging by what she has felt earlier when she came out of the bathrooms--as her new companion.

Hunter tilts his head down to her, stopping after a few steps. This close to her, he seems even bigger. Completely menacing. "Is that okay?"

She nods. "Yup." Blanche bites her lip. "Uh-huh."