Chapter Text
It didn’t match. For the fifth time in a row, the piece didn't match.
You huffed, flinging the illustrated paperboard piece to the once organized pile of others alike, as your back felt the relief of falling against the fluff of your carpet. Stupid puzzle. The clock breached 11:07 p.m, and as promised, something bad was bound to happen for your lack of completion by midnight.
Why you set yourself up for failure, you don’t know. But the premise of speaking potential consequences into the universe seemed to be your only motivation in life at the moment. And it, too, was a fun game. One that had your back aching against the four hours of stationary sitting on your floor, as your fingers cramped to piece together one thousand segments of the world map. Though, at this given moment, you were losing hope in Africa ever gaining its southern countries, and Asia was a lost cause.
Your eyes twirled to the low oscillation of your ceiling fan. What if it just fell? At least it’d give you a moment of excitement. Something to finally say when thirty pairs of eyes would scrutinize you during the horrific experience of ice-breakers, before the mortifying revelation would dawn upon you that you really were just… boring.
Your fingers dug into the sockets of your eyes. One harsh sufficient rub was enough to cut whatever impeding yawn short. You still had fifty-three minutes, and if the past twenty-one years of good deeds meant anything, maybe the universe would lighten up and spare you of any reprimand for the non fulfillment of puzzle promises.
Your head turned. Hey, what do you know, there was Yugoslavia under your bed all along-
“C’mon, c’mon, don’t got all day.” Your hair scrunched under the swift turn of your head, as you listened to the blatant disregard of respect, hearing your front door slam into shuttering vibrations.
A scoff. An all too familiar scoff. “Geez, Eddie, way to a get a girl goin’.” Winnie Ambrose.
Your face contorted in despair, with quiet gruffs of whines softly pleading to yourself. “Please go to the bedroom, please go to the bedroom, pl-”
“Just do it right here, seriously, got no time, baby.” Oh, no. Suddenly, you were slapping yourself silly for the stupid mistake of not investing in headphones. And as much as you could try to muster, the completion of Angola would not be satisfactory enough to distract from the lewd noises that defiled your living room couch. “Yeah, yeah, put it in your mouth, go on, finally shut you up.”
Your endeavors prompted you to the cushioning of your bed, where you found the will to rather die of asphyxiation under the thickness of your pillows, than listen to the onslaught of moans that were about to proceed the thinness of your apartment walls. Four hundred thirty-seven a month to have your ears violated by the uncomfortable noises of your best friend and her weekly endeavors.
His voice hummed faintly. “Mm, yeah, just like you fucking know how to do it.” A month of cohabitation with Winnie Ambrose brought you the glorious gift of Eddie Munson, an enigma. There was never a face painted to the stumper that was Eddie Munson, but the details alone left your mind spiraling to the paradox of a man that infested your friend’s life.
“Like that?”
“Sh, sh, no talking, just suck.” Your face scowled.
Should the night go as it always does, Winnie would have her rendezvous, his heavy footsteps would proceed with a quick leave, her shouting voice of insults would follow before the slam of the front door silenced her, and her tears of complaints would flow down your shoulder.
For a man like that, you had viable reason to believe he’d never step foot back into your apartment, and yet, every week proved you wrong. Her constant, “god, I could just kill him, do you know how much of an asshole he is?!” would presumably follow up with an, “okay, I know what you’re thinking, don’t give me that look, it’s just this one time!”
It never was just one time.
Eddie Munson had the chokehold of a python on Winnie Ambrose… and apparently a third of Indianapolis’ female population. Though, where you could criticize her for her poor choices, you could also applaud her in the fact that she even had a choice to begin with. Her Friday nights were actually spent living her youth with the liveliness of freedom, whilst you were evidently stuck being “piece” maker for the United Nations.
No guy was ever making you a choice.
But you know, it’s not like you couldn’t be a choice. Yeah, you totally could be. You just… you know, had to put yourself out there more. You weren’t totally invisible. People acknowledge you, like in high school! There was always a polite ‘m’sorry’ to come whenever shoulders were knocked in the crowdedness of halls. Granted, it’s not like any of those people ever knew your name. That notion was really cemented when watching teachers wrack their brains on the potential name you owned after seeing your hand raised, settling on that ‘miss’ that followed you around for four years. But you were totally there. Otherwise they would have never called on you. Then again, it’s not like anyone else in class ever raised their hand.
There. Perceived. Maybe even acknowledged. Just not known.
Just anonymous.
But maybe things worked best as such. Safe, at least. You’d been safe ever since you were seen. Actually seen. Seen by him. Or, you thought he saw you. Your eyes scrunched at memories that felt too vivid for the years it had been since they transpired in reality. But as quick as your eyes were to close, they shot open against the abrasive clash of glass splattering against the floor. “Winnie.”
Your legs worked before your brain, jostling you out of the comfort of your bed to swing your bedroom door open to the expanse of your living room. “God, you are such a pig!” Couch pillows of ammunition went flying into the arms of the figure before you, his back turned to you to catch the onslaught of fluffy attacks. “You’re just a no, good, lying scumbag! Ugh!” Hurling over his shoulder, you ducked to avoid the incoming stuffed bullet.
His boots crunched against shattered glass. “Christ, you’re fucking crazy, would you fucking relax?!” His smirk—unbeknownst to you—only spawned that thumping vein in Winnie’s forehead to accentuate; a sick pride in being able to elicit this reaction from her. “Call me all the fucking names you want, you were still desperate enough to suck me off.”
“AH! GET OUT!” Her still-heeled feet stomped to shove him back. Nothing but his sinister laughter echoed against the clash of her vocal frustrations, as he let her ardent pushes barely sway him from his stance. “You piece of shit!” Having gotten everything he needed for the night, Eddie took to her persistent shoves, and turned on his heels. All energy lost for his time. “GO!” In a split second, his eyes caught yours, and the sight of his face hit you like a ton of bricks. That was Eddie Munson. Nothing but confusion lingered upon your face, as the tense air became tainted by the complaints of Winnie. “I’m never calling you again, you dickhead! Get out!” His legs, for once, stumbled to her strength, and you watched his eyes fall to the length of your body, before the slam of your front door vanished his existence.
Winnie huffed. Her back straightened against the door handle, breath regulating, throat clearing, and hands pushing away unruly hair.
You stared in awe. “What the hell was that?” You implored.
“That asshole is to never step foot into this apartment again.” Wide eyed crazy, her finger came pointing at you. “I mean it, Y/N, if I so much as speak his name, you need to slap me straight.”
“Okay, but do you wanna explain what the hell happened, why our vase is shattered on the ground?! Winnie, our vase! My vase!” Thirty-seven bucks wasted on that antique shop. So gaudy, yet so beautiful. Tragic.
Your face frowned. “That asshole happened!” Winnie groaned, raking harsh fingers through the length of her auburn extensions. “God, I’m over here giving him the best head of his life,” your face scrunched in disgust, “and that asshole has the nerve to forget my name. My name?!”
Your shoulders deflated under the pretense of a disappointed parent. “So, what?! You took it out on my vase?! Win, come on, you’ve been saying the worst thing about this guy for a month, what were you expecting?”
“Y/N, for the love of God, I bumped into it.” She deadpanned. “And you know what, I ask myself the same damn thing, god, I’m so stupid!” She plopped onto the couch. “That bastard knows exactly what he’s doing,” an incredulous laugh rips through her throat, “sweet-talking girls, getting in their pants, only to stutter out some bullshit name that isn't yours- god, Y/N, he called Therese!” She gagged. “That bitch who works on 4th Avenue East, he’s fucking her, too!”
So sullen. “My vase.”
“He’s not getting away with this.” Winnie stood on sore feet and knees, a stern finger directed at you, as if you suddenly became the perpetrator. “Something, c’mon, I gotta think of something to get that piece of shit back.”
“How ‘bout stop speaking to him?”
“No!” Her whines viciously penetrated your ears. “I have to make him suffer! God, for all the shit he puts us girls through, he has to pay!” You watched her face cinch with perplexity to the ideas her mind was too tipsy to conjure. The advice of letting it go was burning at the tip of your tongue, but too hard-headed to accept, you knew your words would be dismissed for a punishment up to par to Winnie Ambrose’s standards. “Ugh, I’ll think of something later.” She gave up. “But right now, I’ve gotta make an order.”
Her ankles turned with the thickness of heels, and you watched her stomp off into the direction of her bedroom. “Order what?”
“A vibrator. I’m done with men.” Liberation.
You sighed. “My vase.”
-
“Um… hm, um…”
Your eyes discreetly rolled, an impatient finger repeatedly tapping the end of your pen; a click for how close your sanity was thinning. “Sir, I can come back whenever you’re re-”
“Just a moment, um…”
Your back straightened with frustration. The sheets of your notepad wrinkled under the humid perspiration of your hands, as your entertainment was now left with nothing more than to mindlessly wander your gaze about, as the customer before you took waitstaff a little too seriously for your liking. On cue, the alerting bell of the front entrance piqued your interest, where your eyes widened at the sight of his familiar silhouette, and suddenly the elderly customer taking his sweet time became more of a priority.
“How ‘bout a cappuccino? Cappuccino sound good? Great! I'll grab that cappuccino for you!” Rushing behind the counter, you discreetly watched him take his usual place. Back corner, by the window. Eddie Munson’s chair- or what was formerly known: cute guy with the long hair’s chair.
“I-”
But, now, the events of last night had tainted the little crush that became your only source of motivation to show up to work every day to serve rude people, who didn’t have the skill set of self control to manage their crankiness before their morning cup of coffee.
Suddenly, everything clicked.
From the first moment you saw him, your eyes lingered on the strut of confidence that defined his nature; dark and mysterious, claiming his chair with a notebook that never left his hand. You never would have expected “your” guy to actually have been Winnie’s guy, and apparently the majority of other women’s guy. You should have seen it sooner. When one day, a frown etched upon your face seeing your crush waltz in with a girl in hand, presumably a girlfriend. But when said girl never accompanied him again, that smile was right back on your face.
Until the cycle continued. Repeatedly. Numerously.
And yeah, maybe the obvious signs of Eddie Munson being the biggest player was slapping you right in the face, but nothing could touch that idealized fantasy you’d like to curate. What the hell else was supposed to make the hours go by? It’s not like it was anything serious. Just a crush. Like Timmy Plyth in the eighth grade, after lending you a much needed pencil. God forbid someone was nice to you, you’d plan out both your futures together. Delusional sure, but the sincerity of it all was never a foundation. Suddenly, watching Timmy Plyth overly use the word ‘bro’ was enough to have your insides cringing, and quickly, he was nothing.
Eddie Munson was nothing.
So, it was effortless for you to easily chalk up the array of beautiful women by his side as second cousins coming to visit, though, the flirtatious way he’d play with their hair was surely too gross; perhaps an innocent friend looking for a catch up, then again, there was nothing innocent about the way his lips would glue to hers; or hell, maybe a first date gone bad, because he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the waitress that took his breath away, though Eddie Munson had never once actually looked at you.
Until, he did.
Tuesday, three weeks ago, had been a particularly gloomy evening, with regulars skipping their usuals to avoid the downpour of dark clouds over city skylines. Quiet and peaceful, the coffeehouse hummed with the white noises of pages turning from worn books and lips sipping upon the enriching black warmth that filled colorful mugs. Like clockwork, his boots squelched with wetness, a leather jacket clinking against metal, water droplets that refused to soak up the material, and his notebook in hand.
Though, this time alone.
Taking his designated seat in the back, you located your coworker who adorned that customer service smile, as she busied herself elsewhere. Your nervous hands rubbed against your waist apron, as you quietly approached him.
The scrape of his pencil against the pages tickled your ear, as his scent collided with the deep coffee beans and baked goods that surrounded you. Bats. Scribbled and sketched against the great expanse of drawings that tied to the plethora of words that creatively polluted the once blank canvas.
“Those, uh, those are nice drawings.”
His head spun to yours, and your soft smile allowed a matching one to invade his face. “Uh, thanks… yeah, thanks, they’re not really, y’know, anything special.” At the time, your innocent heart pattered at his obvious gaze that lingered too intently to be ever “just friendly,” though now, your stomach turned at the realization that something more impure was causing those dimples to flaunt. A smile so devilish it sickly resembled his… Dalto- “But, uh, means a lot coming from you.” Barf. You should have told him to fuck off, now knowing what you know.
But your lovesick mind shyly giggled and flushed your cheeks with heat. “Just because you don’t think they’re special doesn’t mean they aren’t great. Seriously, they are. A-And why does it mean a lot coming from me?” Your brow pointed.
“Nice people give out genuine compliments.” His shoulders shrugged like it was simple. “See you given’ that lady and her baby free food all the time, no? That’s you.”
He has seen you. “Oh, yeah, Margaret, she’s, um, super sweet, lives in my building. Times are just a little hard for her s’all, so I don’t mind having a couple sandwiches taken out of paycheck for her.”
“Yeah, see, nice. You wouldn’t lie to me.” Eddie stated factually, face hardened, no longer brandishing whatever smirk he played to swoon his next hookup.
Such stoicism left you confused in the wake of a brief ten second quietness. Perhaps you had misread that first interaction, and he had no interest in pursuing you. Wouldn’t be the first time. Sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. “Um, so, w-what would you like to order, sorry?”
“Just a latte will do if that’s fine.” He gave a light smile your way, as your head nodded in confirmation.
“Yeah, yeah, of course, I’ll have that right out for you, sir.” Your feet moved with no thought, mentally cursing yourself for the embarrassment of referring to him as an older man. And you heard those airy chuckles of amusement huff through his nose, dissipating in the wind, as you made your escape. But you’d become oblivious to the round eyes that softly stuck to your swaying body, adorned in the combination of rain boots and skirt that had his fingers painting the pages of his notebook with a particular figure in rain boots and skirt.
Steamed milk had an interesting way of gluing the fabric of your shirt to your skin with the humidity that matched that of the sticky drizzle outside. Like watercolors, the cedar espresso collided with pearl milk, and with a quick glance to your left, his broadened back met you, as his arm flexed to the rhythm of his drawing.
Creamy foam met the tawny caffeine, and your barista skills concocted a small bat to ripple into his latte. Sufficed with your art, you gently maneuvered your way to his direction, where the delicate clicks of your small pumps informed your arrival.
But before Eddie could muster out any form of conversation, you dropped off your service with a polite, “enjoy your drink,” to save you from the inevitable embarrassment your mouth would spew.
But as you looked back, you watched the phlegmatic corners of his lips turn to a genuine smile at the sight of your curated artwork… for him.
“Seeing Miss Long Legs now, huh?”
The bustling cacophony of the crowded coffeehouse snapped you back to reality. “Huh?” You looked at your coworker.
Your eyes caught sight of the wedges that announced themselves to the tall woman, so modelesque, with a sundress that complimented her complexion. “Save yourself the trouble, and don’t involve yourself with that man.” Maude, grabbing a lemon-raspberry muffin for the man across the counter, grumbled under her breath.
“What? Oh, no, I’m not, like- I was just zoning out, sorry.” You resumed your position to formulate an unwanted cappuccino, as your eyes slyly peered to the intimate greeting Eddie shared with the beautiful woman.
“Right, well, still, sooner or later, that man is gonna swoon you over whenever you get the chance to wait on him, and it’s gonna be really tempting to say yes, but you better say no.” Your brows furrowed. Eddie Munson hadn’t explicitly made a move on you. Were you really that unappealing that even he didn’t want you? God, how pathetic were you to stoop that low? “It’s what he does. Works you up, get you all flustered, takes you out on some cheap date, but makes up for it with the love bombing, and before you know it, he’s got you right where he wants you: his bed.” Her gum smacked to the intensity of her accent.
“Yeah, uh, I bet. My roommate, she, uh, kinda had a thing with him.” You grimaced.
Maude laughed, her gold jewelry jingling to the waves of her expression. “Oh, no, honey, Eddie Munson doesn’t do “things.” That’s what he makes you believe, but soon you realize he never actually had feelings for you.”
Your stomach plummeted at her words, an overwhelming sense of discomfort suddenly hitting. Memories. Bad ones. You sucked in a heavy breath, and attempted to blink away the negative pictures that began infesting your mind. “Oh. Um, how do you know?”
You worriedly watched her face contort into anguish. “Oh, y’know-” her voice cracked, tears brimming her eyes, “just heard around.” The muffin became mush in her hand, as she ran into the back. The awaiting customer blankly stared at you.
Eddie Munson was Dalton Barron.
And you wouldn’t go down that road again.
-
Blisters had been bubbling on your feet. Seven hours and thirty minutes of standing left you contrite on this morning’s choice of attempting to be stylish by breaking in your new flats—all too cute not to be worn. Coffee had stunk itself into your hair, and you were verging on the brink of tears after a shift of being yelled at, after the inevitable occurred when you misheard a customer's eight step instruction to their frappe. And to make matters worse, your key was taking too long to slot into the doorknob.
But the clashing of brassy metals that clung from your keychain announced themselves before you could, alerting your very own kidnapper to haul you into your apartment, with a purity ring—for the sake of her—that dug into the skin of your arm. “I got it!”
You swore your wrist popped with the pull Winnie had on you, as she dragged you into the space of her bedroom. “Got what- wait, if it’s this new vibrator you were talking about, I don’t wanna-”
“No, it’s not a vibrator!” You dropped with a bounce on her bed, as her hands shoved themselves upon your shoulder. “That doesn’t come till Wednesday.” She collected herself straight. “Anyways, I got it, I got my revenge plan! You know, for Eddie?”
Your fingers pushed themselves into your temple, as your eyes felt too heavy for this conversation. “Oh, Winnie…”
“I’m serious, Y/N, I’ve got the perfect plan!”
“You know, he actually came by the coffeehouse, met up with this really pretty girl-”
“Ugh, what a slut.” Winnie grumbled with disgust, a deeply offensive eye roll to pair, as well. “God, I swear, that penis is going to fall right off, and then he’ll truly be left with nothing.” She sighed, fluffing her hair from her face. “But back to business, Y/N, I… am going to ruin his manhood.”
You dryly blinked. “...By making his penis fall off…?”
“No!” Her petulant mewl came with a frustrated stomp that made your giggle. “By making him fall in love!” That look never left your face, in fact, worsened to the oddity of her scheme. “Stop looking at me like that, I’m serious! We have to make him fall in love!”
You incredulously chortled. “I thought the whole Eddie Munson thing was not falling in love? And wait a minute, you promised not to speak to him anymore, I don’t want to have to slap you, Winnie.”
“I’m not going to do it, you are!”
You promptly stood from the bed, matching her height with an urgency in your eye that challenged her crazy ones. “I am not talking to Eddie Munson, are you insane?!”
“No, but you have to!” Winnie desperate beseeched. “Y/N, c’mon, do this for me! Just hear me out, okay? You don’t actually have to, like, y’know, date him. Just lead him on! It’s that ego of his, we have to crush his ego!”
“Winnie,” you sighed, “Eddie wouldn’t even go for me-”
“Of course, he would! You’re hot shit!” Your face dropped entirely unconvinced. “And Eddie’s totally going to see that when you go to his gig tonight.”
“I’m not going to anyone’s gig tonight!”
“Hold on, wait! Before you say no…” Winnie stopped your incoming decline with a cold finger hoisted to your lips to hush your words, before she childishly scampered her way into the closet. Rummaging through the mountain of clothes she was adamant to hang up yesterday, her hands finally grappled onto her last hope. “Okay, ready? Ta-da!”
So sensationally lurid, with yellows, greens, and purples that didn’t match not one bit. So tacky it was beautiful. Your hands grabbed for it. “My vase!”
“Ah- no!” So offended, your mouth dropped, as Winnie denied you the right to receive your child. “You can only get this,” waving the delicacy around to taunt you, “if you agree to go to the gig tonight.”
You scoffed. Well played. “T-That is, like, literal coercion.”
“C’mon, look, Eddie’s got a big thing with pride, okay? I highly doubt that man’s ever seen rejection in life, so, when he expects all the girls to be flaunting themselves at him, he’ll see that everyone is except you.” Winnie was beginning to get that crazy look in her eyes. “Eddie’s gonna want what he can’t have, so, he’ll automatically go for you! But you, Y/N, you’re stronger than I am, and you are going to turn him down in every which way, only giving a little and taking away, until he is some desperate, little puppy following you around. And then, he’ll finally, FINALLY understand what it's like. Asshole…”
Winnie puffed her chest, catching her breath, as her hands fervently clutched to your vase. You could see it in her face how desperate she was just to have him hurt, even if it was just a little bit. Just to feel what she and many other girls did, because of him. You sighed. “Winnie, he’s not going to look at me.”
Without a word, she shoved the vase into your hands, before marching into her closet once more, where hangers scraped against the rack, as Winnie aggressively shuffled through the array of clothes she possessed. Retrieved was a dress of angelic white satin and lace that cascaded just enough to save you from a public indecency charge. “Not if you wear this!” She beamed.
Beauty is pain came with such candor.
“God, Winnie, he’s not seeing my underwear, why do I have to wear these?” So tight and lodged in the crevices of your lady parts, disturbing you to no avail. “It’s about feeling sexy! If you feel sexy, you’ll exude sexy!” The next travesty to come came in the form of said dress, by a sadistic designer who found much gratification in the torture of stomachs through the depths of lustrous material hell. With a corset to secure, Winnie was hoisting the attached strings into oblivion.
“C’mon, just suck in for me!” Her grip tightened around the lacing. “My lungs are going to explode if I suck in anymore!” You’d never felt your body more accentuated, with your boobs practically grazing your chin with how much Winnie was able to lift them with the right bra and a bruised rib cage.
And before you knew it, a suffocated squeal was burrowed out of your throat, when Winnie pushed your stiff body onto the softness of her bed. “Shoes, shoes, shoes! You need the perfect shoes!” Suddenly, strappy platforms of six inches were being shoved on your newly painted toes. “Hey, wait, slow down, Win, I’m gonna break an ankle, I don’t do anything over three inches.” But clasps were being secured around your ankles before your protest could be of any success. Winnie snorted. “Well, maybe that’s why you’re so uptight.” Your jaw dropped.
-
On the outskirts of Alcona Drive, under city lights and bustling traffic, a tattoo parlor sits next to a bar of proverbial rock and metal. Corroded Coffin play here every Saturday night. You were here Saturday night.
You clung to Winnie’s arm like a child, maneuvering through the sea of people who found vacancy in the open air parking lot for intermission breaks. With rough asphalt embedding itself to the outsoles of your heels, Winnie became your only support after bubbling anxiety worsened the wobble that an additional six inches to your height had had on you.
Had you been calm, you would have accepted the gentle zephyr of the night that now suddenly felt as though it was biting at your skin with the uneasiness of your tummy. As a compromise, Winnie, at least, gave you the grace of sporting a leather jacket to hide behind.
“Okay, just remember,” I.Ds flashed to the bouncer, “be cool and collected. Eddie’s not going to approach you if you’re fawning over him.”
“I’m not going to fawn over him.” Your body flinched at the rattle of conversations that mushed into deafening discordance that blared into your ear. Strobes of stage lights blew up your pupils, as you observed the Saturday night lives of people who found hedonistic liberation through buzzing music and weightless drinks.
Had your heart not sank to your ass, you would have understood why Winnie Ambrose loved going here.
But for you, your nails were sinking into the skin of Winnie’s arm, but she would endure the bitter sting, as long as it would appease your silent suffering. She was, in fact, the reason you were dragged here.
“Look, we’ll do a lap before we settle.” Winnie screamed into your ear.
Before you could question her motives, a drunken screech interrupted your train of thoughts. “Winnie!” You’d forgotten she had friends outside of you.
Your legs jostled at the strength of Winnie’s pull, hauling you to a group of strangers whose overpowering perfumes skirmished with the breaths of cocktails that lingered in their vicinity. Squeals of greetings were exchanged, as you timidly stepped back, watching what an actual social interaction was between people who had real lives.
“This is,” her jewelry-ridden hand clasped to your wrist, “this is Y/N!” Small smiles with the company of tiny waves and head nods was all that was proffered to you, and you wondered if Terry Werner’s unsolicited words of you being “standoffish” as the reason as to why you sat alone in the middle school cafeteria were actually true. Then again, you couldn’t fault Winnie’s friends for how quickly they turned away from you, when you stood with nothing but a precautious stare with lips so tightly inward. “Y/N, this is Janet! Janet’s dating Walker! This is Walker’s sister, Karey! Karey’s dating Danaisha! This is Peneolope! Oh, that’s Jaiden- uh, Jaiden’s roommates with Sebastian! And my friend Carly!” Abruptly, Winnie’s warm breath was fanning against your ear. “And Janet is secretly hooking up with Seb, so don’t say anything, because he’s also doing it with Pen, who quite literally just had a threeway with Jaiden and another girl, who happened to Danaisha’s ex, who she claims not to be hung up on, yet still frequently talks to behind Karey’s back, so...” God, is this what adulthood was?!
Perhaps you were the wrong person to tell, as a series of confused looks were thrown your way when your freshly plucked eyebrows—upon Winnie’s request—severely sold your face away to the unnerving settlement you earned from the incestuous ties that happen to hold this group together.
But their judgements didn’t hold for too long, as Winnie’s dramatic recollection of the past week left her friends violently ignoring your presence.
At an attempt to wave off the awkwardness you were certain people could feel, you faintly bobbed your head to the music that lowly vibrated from the speakers; an appeasement to bar goers who drunkenly waited for the performance intermission to pass.
Your eyes darted, jumping from corner to corner, swiftly locking eyes with strangers who maneuvered every which way. Your teeth began to anxiously gnaw into your glossed lips, as deep unsettlement bubbled in your belly at the realization your eyes were searching for a specific face, one’s who you truly had no business festering upon.
Winnie Ambrose was completely out of her mind if she even thought for a second Eddie Munson would fall for this.
This wasn’t self-deprecation. This was utter reality.
Heels of different heights, all styled to the zeitgeist of the blooming 90s, complimented the women of the bar so beautifully. So many kinds of smiles brightened the dimly lit setting, with colors brandishing their lips from enticing, deep plums to the beauty of a natural hue. With an array of bodies on display just for him, Eddie Munson wouldn’t even fathom the idea of you.
A guitar riff ripped through the dense air.
Drenched in the center spotlight, the blinding shine illuminated that signature smile that etched itself onto his face upon seeing the crowd flock to his feet. So below him. “Hope y’all had enough time to rest,” his voice buzzed, amplified into your ears, as his lips kissed the mic, “‘cause we’re about to put you through the fucking wringer!”
You watched Winnie roll her eyes in your peripheral, too accustomed with the aggression of cockiness that seemed to have every woman hollering at his command. Eyes scowling, lip twitching, and a hand searing its print onto your wrist, it became quite obvious that even the presence of Eddie Munson brought her anger.
Wrath, even.
There was no talking Winnie Ambrose out of this. She had a plan. And it was cemented.
Winnie Ambrose was taking Eddie Munson down.
And you were complicit.
His voice, so deep with husk it had beautiful women practically throwing themselves for his attention, caused a ripple of goosebumps to invade your skin. Something about Eddie Munson had caused a leach of perturbation to suck the life out of you. So dark, his eyes silently sang to the ladies below him, as nothing became more alluring than the sinister blackness that specialized each girl with eye contact so intimidating. If only they knew it meant absolutely nothing.
Every gaze. Every smirk. Every touch. Every lyric dedicated to the busty blonde with curly hair, or the sun-kissed beauty with a look so delicate.
It all meant absolutely nothing.
And Eddie Munson loved it.
Reveling in the control he had, nothing but a smile and wink to get whatever he wanted out of a desperate girl who urged him to make her feel good. And he did. Never a moment passes, where Eddie didn’t have a lady crying in rapture of his orgasmic touch. No matter the mind, no matter the body, Eddie Munson had a truly remarkable talent to blank the conscious of any thought, washing a woman’s worries away with his fingers, tongue, and cock, as his filthy voice kissed their ears with the sweet nothings that had them believing they were one of a kind.
But it was nothing but a ruse.
And they’d come to find that, as the once pleads to make them feel good, left them with tears staining the makeup he ruined. No one ever talks about the detriment of having your body used. Furthermore, no one talks about the utter humiliation of running back to the man that did so.
Nothing but a lousy phone call or run in at the club was enough to have you reeled back into his loving arms that were only loving for forty minutes, before they rejected you like you were nothing. And he affirmed it with a smile so sickening, as he watched the torment twist their face in disgust at his actions.
But not that it mattered, they’d be crawling right back at the snap of his fingers.
With a sudden yank, your heels were clicking to catch up with Winnie’s steps. “Hey, wait, what are you- what are you doing?!” Your voice barely became audible under the thunder of Corroded Coffin’s thrashing.
“C’mon, just follow my lead!” Was all she gave you to work with, before her aggressive hands were shoving strangers out of the way, until you made it into the front sea of men and women who handbanged their body to the clash of the music.
It didn’t take long for Eddie to make his usual way around the stage edge, where those desperately interested flaunted what they had to offer; breasts pooling from the hazard that was an overtly low-cut top—much to Eddie’s liking—or tongues hungrily circling their lips to potentially entice the metalhead for quickie.
And then there was you: stood gracelessly behind the stature of your friend, as you gawked at the foreignness of a Saturday night out.
It became inevitable when Eddie’s gaze fell upon Winnie, who you actually had to give props to, as she stood her ground with an ardent cross of her arms over her chest. A mocking wink was thrown against her scowl, but Winnie quickly graced him with a tight-lipped smile, as you watched with confusion. Her fingers waved in his direction, as his egotistical smirk grew wider.
Winnie Ambrose was a genius.
Flaunting a smile that had Eddie believing he was right back on her good side for another fuck. Eddie’s gonna want what he can’t have… having Winnie left you.
His eyes fell upon your figure, as his lips continued to serenade into the mic. “Walk away.” Winnie gritted next to you.
“What?” Your brows furrowed, unbeknownst to you, a look Eddie hadn’t expected.
“Just walk away. Now.”
Not wanting to be on the receiving end of Winnie’s wrath, your legs stumbled back until you found your footing, and left the crowd, as you strutted back to the bathrooms. Because what you failed to notice was Eddie Munson had glued his eyes to your disinterest, stuck to your descending silhouette, as his voice lowly sung to the women who screamed for him.
But all he saw was you.
The buzzing light fixture of a limeade yellow made it nearly impossible for the women of the bar’s bathroom to adequately reapply their makeup. You stood back, watching the delicate precision of lipstick to lips, tissue to eyeliner, and fingertips to skin.
So effortlessly pretty, you took your turn at the crowded mirrors, and followed the movements of every other girl to fix up your look. You quite liked the black liner that ran the perimeter of your eyes that Winnie had applied. She paired it so nicely with a shimmer that didn’t intimidate you, and, in fact, blossomed your eyes to a vivid awakeness.
But the perspired air had blinked your makeup to a light smear.
“Need some tissue?”
“What?”
Her cheeks plumped with a smile on her face. “Tissue? Don’t use the ones here.” Her head pointed to the brown tear of paper that lingered in the dispenser. “It’s rough, and it’ll probably cause you to contract herpes.” She joked, as her hand reached to extend you a sheet of soft tissue that came from its designated travel case from her purse.
“Thank you.” You gently smiled, as your finger cleared your eye of the blackened stain that darkened your undereyes.
“Girls night out or you bankin’ on seeing someone?” The rich brown lined her ample lips.
“Oh, uh, I guess both… kinda.” You meekly answered, as the tainted tissue disposed itself in the overflowing bin.
“Same, girl.” Her finger of a deep burgundy acrylic smoothed out the creaminess of her lip liner. “Desperately need to feel somethin’ tonight. See, after my ex, ugh, it’s been a dry spell. Tried that whole celibacy thing, but, nuh-uh, not for me, lemme tell you, it is not for the weak, y’know?”
Perhaps you were God’s strongest soldier then.
You dryly blinked a lie. “Y-Yeah, totally know… wh-what, uh, you mean.” You softly chuckled.
“God, and that front man up there with his little guitar.”
Your brows jumped into the creases of your forehead, as you blankly stared at her. “E-Eddie?”
“Yeah, you know him?” Her lips smacked the thick gloss with a pop.
“Uh, no, n-no, not really. Just, um, you know, heard of him, I guess.” You shrugged, as you eyed yourself in the murky mirror, fingers prodding at your face, as an excuse not to look at her.
“Oh, yeah.” She giggled, face coming up close to her reflection. “Everyone and their mother has ‘round here. But honestly, with a guy like that you just need’a put a leash on him, y’know? Eddie needs someone who’s not gonna put up with his bullshit, and when he sees that’s me, all these other girls will see they were never the one. And I plan on making him mine.”
You were royally fucked.
The tension—whether made up in your head or actually there—had fortunately been broken by Winnie bustling into the bathroom. “Ah! Did you see how well that worked?! Well, actually, you didn't, you were walking away, but it totally did!”
“Ha ha, okay, um, why don’t we head out, yeah?” You directed her to the bathroom door, not before flashing the beautiful girl a small smile, as she winked you goodbye. You were met with the generic music that was once blaring upon your first entrance, as you took notice of the now empty stage that left people to mingle around the bar. “Okay, what? What are you-”
“Eddie! He totally checked you out when you left! I told you this would work!” She geeked with the surprising ability to joyfully jump in five inch stilettos. “God, I wish you could have seen his face, Y/N, he was totally like ‘huh?’” You laughed at her over exaggerated facial expression. “He so wants you now.”
Winnie began guiding you back to the table of her friends. “See, um, Winnie, I think we may have run into a little problem. You know that girl in the bathroom, she’s totally gunning for-”
“Aye, your back!” Karey’s voice rang into a cheerful greeting… until her eyes landed upon you. “Oh, you, too.”
Oh. Leave it to you to be deduced to an oh.
Winnie dragged an obnoxiously loud chair—that didn’t help your attempt to potentially win her friends over—to the unwelcoming table, and patted you down. “Duh, of course, she’s here, she’s with me.” Winnie smiled a smile that did little to appease that burdening feeling that resided within you, though, you knew she was trying.
As the table fell into a conversation of inside jokes and personal stories that you had no clue about, and you found your eyes whisking away to the rowdiness around you. Had you actually caught the eyes of Eddie Munson, or had Winnie just been flattering you? Bless her, you know she feels a lot, but three years of friendship that felt like a lifetime taught you that her uniquely Winnie Ambrose mind had a knack for twisting events in favor of her.
Narcissism? No, not really. Perhaps crazed in the nicest way possible? Would you be a bad friend to say yes?
Her one sided relationship with Eddie Munson truly stamped itself as exhibit A. Then, of course, there was the whole sugar daddy incident, where Winnie swore up and down that the older gentleman on the train was about to make her rich. Turns out, his compliment about her shoes was solely based on the fact that his wife would love the same pair.
So maybe, just maybe, Winnie became an A.P Literature teacher’s favorite example of an unreliable narrator, as what she saw as a gaze of piqued interest from the metalhead was most likely a swift gaze that meant absolutely nothing.
Sudden voices erupted through the bar’s casual buzz, and you turned your head to the commotion, where the familiar members of Corroded Coffin marked their way through the crowding praises. Inexorably, a flock of women came hurtling as the sweaty lead singer and guitarist made his way out to sift through the potential suitors of a good time.
His hungry hands found a way to delicately graze the skin of every woman, giving them a lightning rush of whatever fun he could proffer for the night.
Shifting in your seat at the sudden wave of heat that burned you, you swallowed deeply watching the long strut of the mystery girl in the bathroom make a beeline to Eddie. It became easy to rationalize that pit in your stomach as the inevitable downfall of your best friend’s plan. Nothing more.
And yet, your eyes couldn’t steer away from them.
She was unbelievably gorgeous with an aura that captivated his attention in a split second. Over your shoulder, you watched her long lashes bat at his emerging smile, her gold rings complimenting the clash of his heavy silver ones, as his hand slipped into hers, raising it to a height that left her twirling before him, as he gawked at her body that fitted perfectly to her outfit.
And it was when his nose skimmed the skin of her cheek, lips whispering into her bejeweled ear, when his eyes unexpectedly caught yours across the bar.
An action so abrupt, you swiftly turned away to the ongoing conversation that had no interest in including you, but even that was better than staring Eddie Munson directly in the eye, as he worked up another woman.
Your pattering heart of anxiety became too heavy for your chest, forcing you to suffer in silence, heaving steadily until those rampaging butterflies finally calmed themselves in your stirring belly.
“Hey, you alright?” Winnie’s voice came close to your personal space.
You straightened your back, forcing a smile to appear. “Yeah, yeah, just, uh… I don’t know, getting used to things, I guess.” Her nods urged you to proceed. “But also, what I was trying to say earlier, that girl-”
“Hey.” You turned your head to the direction of the piercing blue eyes that scrutinized you with deep thought. Janet clung to his arm, as his body leaned over the table, as if to have you hear loud and clear. Walker Brauchman. “I know you from somewhere?”
“Um-”
“Your face, you got the face of someone I know, or at least, knew of.” His finger, so accusatory, pointed you out, adding seven more pairs of eyes to peruse you. “I thought it when I first saw you, but I can’t seem to put my finger on it.”
“Oh,” you stared around with a nervous laughter that rippled through your throat, “I don’t, uh, I don’t think so.” His face had been nothing but new when first approached, and surely those crystal eyes and broad brow bone would stick out in the memory of the past had you actually run into him before.
But he refused that answer, sticking with a fervent shake of his head. “Nah, nah, I’ve seen you before.”
Janet’s tense chuckles bursted out, as you watched her hands tighten around his bicep. “What’s going on here?” Her wide eyes ran down you. “Have you been with my boyfriend before?” Despite the flashy smile never leaving her face, nothing but hatred passed through her words.
“N-No, I don’t-”
“God, Walker, just drop it. How many beers have you had?” Winnie’s eyes rolled. “She’s not wandering around nightclubs where you techie, trust fund boys hang around. And Sebastian, when was the last time you got laid?”
You watched Janet’s eyes bug, and it became more evident that the glue holding these people was a deep loathing for one another. “Didn’t even say anything.” Sebastian’s voice quietly muttered, as he drowned his mouth in bourbon.
You sighed, sinking back in your chair. The entire night out was becoming a bust, and you were forced to revel in it. “Winnie.” You quietly spoke. “Maybe I should just head home, you stay and have fun.” You offered a weak smile in return to her concern.
“What? No.” She urged. “Look, just ignore them, okay? They’re a bunch of stuck up assholes, who I literally just use to get into that upscale bar on Saint Exn, you know, where they have those really uncomfortable performances that are supposed to be artsy, but really it’s just a bunch of weirdos bumping into walls.”
With a smile on your face, your soft giggles got lost in the murmur of the bar. At the very least, you had Winnie by your side. You leaned close to her vicinity. “Listen, Win, I know I said I would help you with this plan to, um, get back at Eddie, but I don’t think this is really gonna work out- or at least, I’m probably not the right person to do it.”
“What? How come?” Her arched brows pinched into her forehead. “No, you’re totally perfect, Y/N, I mean it, he was completely eyeing you.”
“Winnie, it’s just-” You adjusted in your seat to face her. “I feel like you may need someone with, um, more edge, I guess. I can’t- c’mon, Win, you know I can’t talk to a person like Eddie, it wouldn’t- it just wouldn’t work.” You rationalized. “You know, l-like her?”
Winnie followed the slight gesture that directed her behind you, where Eddie’s hand nursed a beer, as his right was occupied with groping at the fat of the woman’s ass. Winnie’s face scrunched into a scowl of disgust. “That perv does that to everyone. Trust, he’ll leave her as fast as it takes to finish in her.”
While appreciated, her words did little to provide you any comfort.
You peered back, and that inevitable pull left Eddie’s eyes gazing into yours, as his lips clung to the rim of his glass cup. Your eyes nervously met back to Winnie’s, and suddenly she had a smile on her face, as your periphery showed you the distant movements of Eddie guiding his group of band members and their pick of night to the large table behind you.
“God, he is so trying to make me jealous.” Winnie’s hushed voice complained to you. Eddie was beginning to approach with his new girl in tow. Nothing but a loud clatter from his friends who were securing spots around the table. “Okay, next part of the plan, we gotta move.” Winnie aggressively tapped your arm.
“Move? Move where?” You softly panicked.
“No, not move, like move onto the next- okay, just forget, just get up.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now!” Her demands spat on you through her harsh whispers. “Quick, quick! Just go get a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink, though.” Your brows furrowed.
Winnie deadpanned. “Oh, for the love of god, Y/N, just go to the bar. Just walk, no matter what, just walk, okay?”
Standing on your wobbly feet, you turned to face the busy bar. It only took one step for Winnie’s hand to suddenly shove your body forward in a belligerent manner that had your shoulder colliding with Eddie’s. But Winnie’s words were battering at your head. Just walk. And you never met the stunned state of Eddie Munson, as the entirety of his attention was stolen by you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Your legs worked faster than your mind, hastily navigating you through the packed sardine of bodies, before you managed to squeeze yourself into a spot at the bar. Your finger tapped to the beat of your heart, clicking your nail to the slick wooden countertop that became more fervent by the second.
Through the swarming patrons, the bartender’s eyes locked with yours, which prompted your request. “Just a water, please.” With nothing but a nod handed back, your shoulders slumped to the whatever degree of fresh air the bar provided that wasn’t as suffocating as Eddie's presence.
You wondered if Eddie had said something to Winnie. They were nothing but a few feet apart, and seeing as what you had just done, you thought of the potential outcomes that could proffer themselves. The most blaring one being that Eddie probably told Winnie off about her creep of a friend who needs to back off. Oh, god, why did you ever agree to this? Embarrassment was coursing its burning way to your cheeks, which only worsened with the densely hot atmosphere that was beginning to be overwhelming. One look back would save you from the overbearing thoughts that were consuming your head, that Eddie Munson was, in fact, not at all engaging with Winnie Ambrose, but your eyes stayed glue to the whisking hands of the bartender, as concoctions were made before your water could ever be served.
Ice clanged, and you became captivated by the rapid shake of the mixer, until-
“Shoulder check back there was a bit rude, no?” Your eyes rose to the voice, only for a lump to lodge itself in the sudden tightness of your throat, hurriedly forcing your head away from him.
With a nearly empty cup, a simple gesture to the bartender for a refill sufficed as a wordless transaction for Eddie and the worker. “Sorry. Just crowded.” You managed to muster out, refusing his eyeline, despite his searing into your profile.
The answer should have served, but Eddie’s presence lingered for that awaiting refill, much like your water being tossed to the backburner for the numerous cocktails that were coming in for the sole bartender. Silence ensued, nothing but the minimal sounds of his body leaning forward were somehow becoming the lone focus of your attention. “You must think I’m some real jerk off, huh?”
You hadn’t registered how close his face had come, when your head turned and a pair of noses nearly bumped, with a smile eating at his face with just how fast you jumped back. “What?”
“Red-ish hair, bit of a loud mouth back there, that’s your roommate, no?” He eyed your silence. “I know I saw you yesterday. At her place. I saw you-”
“Her name’s Winnie.”
“Winnie.” Eddie’s tongue clicked. “Yeah, yeah.” His head nodded, as if recollecting the memories of whatever strained history he had of her.
A tense quietness was arising. If intently studying the abrasive nature of the bartender’s mixing was what it took to avoid his dark eyes, then you’d keep your focus trained, until a free moment was given to finally provide you with a water bottle.
But Eddie Munson, of course, had other plans.
“So, how’s Margaret?”
Such a casual grin swept his face, as he awaited the answer, but he was met with nothing more than a perplexed face of judgment, that had a cute way of flexing your brows together, he noted. “You remember Margaret but not Winnie?” Eddie Munson truly was just a load of bullshit.
“Well, if it came from your mouth, sweetheart, I’m gonna remember.”
Nothing but pathological lies spewing from that sinister grin. With luck on your side, the bartender found a moment of time to thrash a cold bottle of water upon you, giving you an escape, as you left him with nothing but a “right” to end the conversation.
His eyes stuck to the movement of your hips, his itching fingers have to splay themselves on the stubble of his chin, as his gaze diverted to the expanse of your body.
Had he seen your face, though, he would have relished in the panic that showcased itself, as you quickly stumbled your way back to Winnie, who was gladly slurping down her martini at the entertainment she witnessed from afar.
“Oh, my god, oh, my god, what did- ugh, what did he say?!” Winnie choked on her olive.
“Y’know, Winnie, I think it actually may be best if we just call it a night.” You quickly gathered your jacket over your shoulders, as Winnie stood from her seat.
Not one to tell twice, the contents of her martini glass were swigged down in a second, as she gathered her scattered belongings of a purse that was riffled through to retrieve her needed lipstick prior to your arrival. “Okay, but what did he- bye guys!” She waved off her friends. “What did he say?!”
Your hand clutched to hers, as you persevered through the endeavor of snaking your way through the crowd for a beeline to the exit. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?! Oh, c’mon, it’s Eddie, he had to have said something!” She prodded.
“Winnie, genuinely, he gave me some bullshit one liner, and that was it-”
“Leavin’ already? Could’a sworn y’all just got here?” With a gentlemanly hand holding the door open, both you and Winnie froze in place, as Eddie had abandoned that refilled beer all just to smile down at you. But you took the initiative to yank Winnie back to reality, tugging on her arm to let the cool breeze consume you in the loitered parking lot. But the god forsaken sound of the heavy crunch of boots against the asphalt had followed your movements. “Oh, c’mon now, things are just gettin’ a little interesting.” Eddie managed to speed up his steps, coming straight for your direction, where he fell in step ahead of you. “Kinda left me hangin’ back there.”
His eyes dropped to your bouncing body with each ardent step, and you left the warmth of Winnie’s hand to cross your jacket over. “There was nothing left hanging.”
“Now, wait, hold on.” His ringed hand buzzed your body, as it came to halt your movements with a gentle squeeze to your waist. “Kinda feel like you’re not getting the best first impression out of me here.”
Winnie chuckled. “You’re doing that to yourself.”
Eddie smiled. “Long time, no see, Wendy, still using too much teeth with your blowjobs?”
Her rum raisin lips pried open with a gasp of disbelief, as without a thought, her purse came flying to his arm. “It’s Winnie, you asshole!” Smack! “And unlike you, a piece of vibrating plastic can actually make me cum!” Winnie stormed off, violating her purse with her violent hands that aggressively searched for her car keys.
A sardonic laugh rippled out of his chest, as he happily smiled down at. “What a fucking liar, babe, don’t trust a word out of her. She always comes crawling back.” His sly grin whispered, as you felt his thumb caress you. You scoffed in revulsion, shoving his hand off of you to make your way around him. “Wait, wait, scratch that, alright? Forget I said that about your little friend, and we can start on a clean slate.” His legs followed you.
“Not interested.”
“Don’t tell me this is because of Red, sweetheart.” Your silence only egged him on. “Okay, look, whatever happened between me and your friend is in the past, alright? Just one little date will prove that I’m not usually like this, just got caught up in the wrong crowd, c’mon you gotta feel a little sympathy for me.”
“I don’t feel a thing actually.”
“Trust me, baby, after one date, I can make you feel a whole lot’a things.” His teeth flashed in a wicked smile that had your stomach anxiously turning. “What’s your pretty name, sweetheart?”
“I don’t think you really need to know that.”
“Kinda important to know the name of the girl I’m takin’ out.” You wouldn’t even be able to count on hand how many times Eddie’s forgotten his date’s name.
But you gulped the stress down, as you approached Winnie’s car. “Hasn’t a girl ever told you no?”
“Don’t you have a mind of your own?” Do you? Your body paused at his words, fingers lingering on the car door handle. “Don’t let your little friend influence this, use that head of yours for yourself. And for the record, sweetheart, no, a girl’s never told me no.” Eddie mockingly smirked in your face.
You swallowed thickly, as you faced the unbearable confrontation of Eddie Munson. Something you never even knew you had the confidence to do. “Well, I am, so accept it.”
“Look, darling, under any other circumstance, absolutely, but I got this funny, little feeling in my heart that you’re too special to let go.” His casanova smile ate at his face. “Just one little date s’all I’m askin’ for. Whatever you want, I’ll cater to your needs.”
Your eyes slung at Winnie’s through the car window, only to fall back on Eddie. Overwhelmed with feelings you’ve never felt before, you wanted to violently vomit, but stuck to the endeavor of standing your ground.
“Shove it.”
You cut Eddie off with the slam of Winnie’s door, where he stood watching you, as she keyed the ignition. In the distance, the entrance rang with the exit of Eddie’s friends. “Yo, Ed!”
But his eyes never left yours. “What?!”
“C’mon, we’re heading to the diner down east!” His friend called for, as Winnie reversed from the parking spot.
In the lively night, Eddie Munson watched you pull away, your chest heaving with just as much anxiety as the beating of his heart with the adrenaline you coursed through his veins. And maybe Eddie was lying at the mention of you being special, it wouldn’t be the first those words were spoken to get into the pants of a naive girl, who Eddie couldn’t have a single care for. Or maybe, just maybe, the craziness of Winnie Ambrose had managed to infiltrate your mind, forcing a sliver of you to believe his words to be true, as you festered on the subtle call out Eddie had managed to strike a nerve with. Something no one else has. Unless you were that easy to read to a practical stranger, how did Eddie know enough to be able to pick you apart with one sentence?
But you were urging yourself to understand this wasn’t his first rodeo.
Eddie watched Clara Dunn hide her tummy with her knit sweater, inevitably leading to his praises about her body that had her opening up her legs to him. Evil. Eddie watched Fernanda Pajaro conceal the hormonal bumps of her skin with creamy concealer, giving him the in to compliment her flawless complexion that got her mouth on his cock. Vile. Eddie watched Winnie Ambrose search for the validation of others, leaving him to whisper those sweet nothings in her ear that had her entangled in his sheets. Nefarious.
To Eddie Munson, you were absolutely noth-
“Ah! What the hell?!” Winnie’s foot slammed on the brakes, forcing your head to jolt at the sudden stop.
Behold, Eddie Munson’s hands perched against the hood of Winnie’s car, as the headlights of her Honda casted a sinister smile on his delighted face. “One date.” His muffled voice echoed.
Winnie rolled down the window of her car. “What the fuck are you doing?! You’re gonna get yourself killed!”
His shoulders shrugged, as his stare never left yours. “I won’t as long as you agree.”
Consternation was eating away at you, as the honking of cars was beginning to erupt, overstimulating you into a fright, that only worsened with the active traffic that was speeding on the other half of the four-lane highway.
“Are you crazy?! Get out of the road!” Your head peaked from the window, urging Eddie to leave.
You envied, yet despised the collection of calmness that he was able to generate, as his face never faltered from the clash of vehicles that sped by. “Just one date s’all I’m askin’.”
“Y/N, just do it!” Winnie begged you.
“No! I’m not about to be forced into this just because he’s insane!”
“Y/N is it? That’s real pretty.” Eddie smiled. “Y/N, will you go out with me?”
“No!” A car flew by. “God, please just get out of the road!” You desperately pleaded.
Eddie’s face playful faltered. “Why not? Why won’t you go out with me?”
“Because I don’t want you!”
A honk, louder than the usual, blared to warn its impending arrival, as Eddie’s palms were quickly beginning to moisten at the semi truck coursing down the road. “It’s just a date, just do it!” Winnie implored.
“Okay, okay! I’ll go out with you!” You hastily gave in, but the stubborn ego of Eddie Munson was rampantly becoming your sworn enemy.
“Nah, c’mon, don’t do me any favors-”
“No, no, I want to!” You beseeched, as the worry lines of your forehead deepened at the sight of the truck.
“Say it.” His smug smile infuriated you beyond compare.
“I wanna go out with you!” You angrily exhorted on the shortness of breath that weasled its way from your constricting throat.
“Say it again.”
You practically screamed your head off to satisfy the liking of Eddie Munson. “I want to go out with you!”
And he smiled, so proudly at his actions, but even more so at your words. “Alright, alright, we’ll go out, no need to beg.”
Running off road, you settled back into the seat with heavy breaths, as you finally watched Eddie safely return to the bar’s parking lot. Your sweaty hand burned itself on the hotness of your tense forehead that was beginning to welcome an ache from the strain of your voice and worries.
If only you knew the worsened matters of your situation, as Santina Rodrigo, with her burgundy acrylics and brown lips of gloss, watched in a fury at the events that transpire between her man and you.
Not to promote the imperial idealization of the American government, but you were beginning to loathe the contents of Africa and Asia that made them so large you were left unable to complete your puzzle by 12:00 A.M Saturday.
As spoken, this was the universe's punishment.