Wanting Bad

Chapter Four: Wanting Bad and Getting Drunk

Chapter Four:

Wanting Bad and Getting Drunk

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Everything in my life right now feels wrong.

For one, I am sitting on my bed on a Saturday night eating ice cream for the third week straight, continuing my marathon of Desperate Housewives. Two, I still cannot wrap my head around what's happening with Jace. He barged into my life last week—choked me up, got me fired from my bartending job and now wants to have talk with me about something. And three, Dean. I haven't seen much of him since our trip to the supermarket last week but he's been on my mind since. That day—during that moment he just seemed so perfect.

I felt joyous being with him. He was fun, cute... So perfect. And then I got slapped in the face with his reality. For a split second I had forgotten the messy lifestyle that follows him and I liked him that way.

But of course, life is never in my favor.

I look down at the empty tub of ice cream sitting in between legs and drop my spoon into it. I sigh, bringing my eyes back to my TV and trying hard to focus on the madness that's going on but I can't. My mind is swirling around with thoughts, and more thoughts. I can hear the thumping music that's coming from Dean's apartment, and I'm sure he's having a good time. I'm sure even Jace probably is—meanwhile I'm just sitting here in this depressive state.

I can't even remember the last time I had fun. Actual fun. I've always been so busy working at the bar that I never made time for myself. I always constantly picked up shifts after shifts, and when I wasn't working I'd be cleaning around the house, or food shopping. Maybe that's my problem... Maybe that's why my life sucks. I don't put myself out there like I should.

Most of my early twenties were spent in a relationship with Jace and I never knew how to have fun because he wouldn't let me. He'd get too insecure and controlling and because I didn't want to upset him, I never did anything exciting. Then after our break up I became so busy trying to distract myself with work that I never got the chance to feel free after him. To run around with my hands out. To have fun with guys, to talk with them, to hook up. That sounds fun.

I sigh and rest my chin on my palm, "I'm so lame."

In that moment, I decide I've had enough Desperate Housewives for now. I pick up the empty tub of ice cream that's sitting on my lap and place it on my night stand. I'm going out tonight and for the first time in years, I'm going to let loose. There's a new bar that opened down the street. It's way better than the one I worked at and if I still had that job, I probably wouldn't step foot in this one. I saw their business as my enemy, but now, it's going to be my friend.

I slide open my closet door, bopping my head to the music from Dean's apartment. He always plays it this loud and no matter how many complaints he gets—he doesn't care. Dean does what he wants and when neighbors complain to the super, he does nothing.

I want to wear something I normally wouldn't. I go through my clothes, skimming through all the hangers and the black tube top that I bought just because the model looked good wearing it looks perfect for tonight.

I pull it off from its hanger and toss it on my bed. I end up matching it with a pair of black ripped jeans that fit too tight, and pull out a pair of black heels. Wearing all black always makes me feel sexy—like a badass, and because why not, I decide to also wear my leather jacket.

"Rest in peace to all the guys tonight," I sneer to myself.

My hair is damp from the shower I took minutes ago so before I hop into my clothes, I quickly blow dry it and run my flat iron through. That all together takes me about thirty minutes to completely finish. Next, I do my makeup—deciding a smoky look to match my attire for the night would be me perfect and when I'm done, I move over to my clothes.