Present Day.

Olivia's POV.

Izzy and Myra dragged me to a club.

Usually, I'm the one forcing people to go out and have fun but I've been feeling bummed lately.

I just wanna stay in bed and watch movies cause things don't make sense anymore.

But I didn't do that, they wouldn't let me do that.

I'm glad they didn't cause partying is how I escape myself and how I keep my mind off things that I'm supposed to be thinking.

Like solving the biggest mystery of your life.

Fuck that.

I take another shot of vodka, squeezing my eyes shut and humming when the drink flows through my body with a warm buzz.

Izzy and Myra went upstairs cause that's where all the hard drugs are found, I didn't feel like tagging along because I'm not a fan of hard drugs.

My eyes scan the dance floor, searching for a possible snack for the night.

I probably shouldn't be calling men snacks but trust me, I have a type and snack is the only name you can use to describe them.

"Hey." A blond guy leans his arms on the counter beside me.

Well, well. The snack brings itself.

Blond, green eyes, muscles, six foot tall, all black outfit.

Looks like trouble but whatever, it's not like I'm gonna fucking marry him.

"Hey," I slide off the stool, "Wanna dance?!" I ask him, shouting over the music.

His eyebrows knit together, looking a little surprised by my request but he replaces the expression with a sweet smile.

"Sure." He takes one last swing off his beer and walks to the dance floor with me.

I hate dance floors, they reek of dry sex and sin but I'm drunk and all I wanna do is dance.

I close my eyes, gliding my hands through my hair and swaying to the rhythm of the music.

I flutter my eyes open and I find Mr trouble watching me with interest.

I close my arms around his neck, staring into his eyes.

He's literally a stranger but alcohol is just that influencial on me.

He suddenly spins me around, my back pressing his front, he pushes my hair behind my shoulder and leans over to bite my earlobe.

I tense.

Deja Vu.

I swear I've been in this exact position before.

"What's wrong?" He shouts in my ear.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," I respond, releasing myself from his hold and shoving myself through the dancing crowd.

I make it out of the club, letting out a breath and tagging at my hair.

Fuck!

I'm falling apart and I don't even know why.

I send a text to Myra and Izzy, telling them I'm going home.

I call an Uber and I somehow get home in one piece.

The goddamn elevator broke again this morning so it's stairs for everyone.

I glance at the stairs to my left.

Ain't no way.

I'm too drunk for shit like this.

I groan frustratedly before striding to the stairs.

I take off my heels, carrying them in one hand and using the other to balance my myself by holding the railing.

I think about that deja Vu I had while climbing the stairs, it felt a little too real.

Freaked me the fuck out for sure.

I spot Miss Kenzie's little dog on the stairs, it's always escaping her apartment for some reason.

I sit down on a step, patting the dog's head and huffing.

"Sam would have liked you." I whisper to the dog, "He doesn't like a lot of things but he would have liked you." I laugh to myself.

My Mom wouldn't let me bring my dog Sam to college, she said he'd end up being poisoned by cruel college kids, I only agreed with her cause part of me kinda believed that theory.

"I miss that crazy dog," I sigh, "The idea of him knowing me more than I knew myself made me feel safe around him." I say.

"Are you talking to yourself?" The deep voice behind me frightens me a little bit.

I throw my head back, looking at Jace upside down.

He's wearing a white tank top and grey sweat pants.

"Like you don't?" I look back at the dog, it whines and runs down the stairs, "You scared off meows." I frown, looking at him.

"The dog's name is meows?" He leans his shoulder against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Yep." I rise from the floor, "Going somewhere?" I eye his outfit.

"Myra called me, asked if I could escort you to your apartment cause you're not good with stairs and that you might actually sleep on them."

"Damnit, Myra." I mutter underneath my tone, embarrassment washing over me.

"Not a lot of people have friends like her, you know." He tells me.

Sounds like he's speaking from experience.

"You've never had friends like her?" I ask.

"I have but their version of a true friendship was kinda fucked up." He pushes off the wall, "Shall we?" He starts climbing the stairs and I follow behind him.

Jace is not much of a talker, he doesn't start conversations or ask questions and he keeps his responses short and unsatisfying.

It makes me wonder what might have gone wrong, Myra said she once watched a video of him laughing and making jokes.

I'd do anything to meet that side of him and I envy the people who have.

We finally reach our doors and we both turn to face each other.

"Wanna come in?" I swing my thumb over my shoulder, pointing at my door.

He gives me a blank stare, clearly debating with himself.

"It's not a sex invite, I'm just asking." I shrug, he smiles, looking to his side and running his inked hand along his jaw.

I swear to God, this guy is the biggest snack of them all.

"If you say so." He looks at me with those warm brown eyes, which has my heart running laps already.

I open the apartment door using the spare key we keep underneath the mat, I enter and he walks in after me.

I lead him to my kitchen, grabbing two glasses of wine.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask him as I fill his glass with red wine.

"No." He responds.

"Why not?" I push the glass to him standing next to me.

"I'm too busy with work and school, I don't have time to date." He doesn't take the glass.

"But you do have time to hook up with girls?" I decide to drink from the bottle.

"You say that like you've seen me hook up with someone." He scratches his head.

"You don't?" I take another sip and another.

"I'm not answering that." He shakes head, looking around my kitchen.

"Okay." I mutter to myself, looking elsewhere.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" I hear him ask.

I snap my head to look at him, he picks up the glass and finally takes a sip.

"No but I definitely have time for hookups." I grin, clicking the bottle with his glass.

He looks down at the action and smiles, amused.

"Cool." Is his response.

I bring the bottle to my lips, my eyes on his ripped body.

I wonder what his type is.

I mean, if he really did date Cassandra Richardson and he's into girls who look like her then I should trim my expectations cause that girl has the face of an Angel and a body of a goddess.

I would never compete with that.

"Your neck tattoo, what does it mean?" I clear my throat.

"You think there's a meaning behind a star tattoo?" He stares at the glass to avoid looking at me.

"I know there's a meaning or better yet, a message." I snap my fingers, pointing at him.

"There is no meaning or message, I just had it done." He says, clenching his jaw.

I stare at it while he stares down at the glass.

"It's beautiful." I whisper in admiration, he turns his head to stare at me with something soft in his gaze.

"Thanks." His eyes move to the wall behind me.

"I have a tattoo too you know." I make my tone sound playful in order to ease the tension.

"Where?" He looks at me everywhere, searching for it.

"You don't wanna know." I tease, taking another sip.

"Fuuck." He chuckles, drawing his lower lip in-between his teeth. I look away, blowing out a breath and drinking again. "My mind's going wild thinking about where it might be." He tells me.

My gaze lingers on his now wet pink lip.

"You wanna see it?" I ask, teasing him some more.

I wanna know how far this could go, how long he can last.

He scoffs.

"It's a dangerous game you're playing." He says.

"What game?" I act stupid.

"Okay, I'll play." He moves closer to me, "Well, where is it?" He towers over me, I bite the corner of my lip.

Here goes something stupid.

Instead of answering him, I turn around, bringing my hair to one shoulder and signaling for him to help me with the zipper.

What the fuck, I swear I'm not usually this bold.

I hear him release a trembling breath and the minute he has his hands on my dress, my entire body breaks out in goosebumps.

He pulls the zipper down and I let the dress fall to the floor, turning to face him.

He drinks me in, undressing what's left on my body with his eyes.

I suddenly forget why I'm half naked in front of this man, he does that to me, makes me forget myself.

Desire lurks in the depth of his eyes and he surprises me by lifting me and sitting me on the counter, his eyes dart down to my body, spotting the butterfly tattoo on my torso.

The corners of his mouth turn up and he looks at me through hooded brown eyes.

"It represents my beautiful freedom," I inform him.

His hesitantly brings his fingers to my tattoo, his touch ghosting over my skin.

I scrutinize the tattooed letters on his fingers.

A, M, L, R, O.

They don't spell anything but here I am, telling myself that they probably stand for something.

He's barely touching me but my entire body is on fire, I want his touch so bad it hurts my chest.

I feel like I'm trapped in a small box and I can't breathe or move or think.

Our eyes lock and I realize that we're both panting, chests heaving, fucking electrifying.

I might actually die from all these strong feelings if he doesn't kiss me.

We both lean in, meeting half way and smashing our lips together, my mouth quivers with pleasure, his mouth is so hot and I can taste the wine on his tongue. He licks and bites and it makes me moan.

This guy kisses like he's already fucking. Dirty and hot.

I'm all in for it.

I want to feel these butterflies, this squeeze in my chest and this hot and cold weather in my body.

They're intoxicating but in the best way possible.

He cups my face and deepens our kiss, I grab the hem of his shirt, ready to take the next step but he pulls away, taking a step back and catching his breath.

Damnit.

I sigh, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.

"Okay but seriously, what is your deal?" I ask him, irritated.

He stares at me and a sad inquiry dwells in his gaze.

"Goodnight, Olivia." He utters to me, taking my bottle of wine with him.

Asshole.