Page 9 of Friends With the Monsters
“Hey, what can I get ya?” Nat’s tits are almost spilling out of her tight cut-off shirt as she grins at me, leaning over the bar.
“The usual,” I tell her, and give her a wink to let her know her efforts aren’t wasted. Nat and I had a night of fun a few years ago, and since then we’ve played the flirting game. She knows I don’t double dip—I’m a one-and-done kind of girl— and she knew that before taking me back to her place.
“You got it. Anything else?” Nat traces her fingers between her cleavage in an offer.
I meet her eyes. “Just the usual.” I make sure that my voice is kind, but that she also knows not to ask again.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” She shrugs her shoulders and cracks open a silver bottle of water that promises it’s from the rainforest. It’s probably bottled in New Jersey, but I don’t care as long as it’s sealed.
Nat pushes the bottle with a small napkin under it over to me. I already have a twenty-dollar bill on the bar to slide over to her. She drags the bill back and tucks it into the front pocket of her cut-off shorts, knowing it is hers to keep.
I turn and face the dance floor again. My blonde friend is trying desperately to get the man’s attention, but he can’t be bothered because he’s too worried about the guy who’s dancing really close to the dark-haired girl.
I see a short exchange between the man and the blonde. He jerks his hand in the other woman’s direction. The blonde lays her palm over his chest and gives a small shake of her head. I move a little closer, the drama of the moment pulling me in.
“She’s fine, Craig. She does this every weekend,” she tells him, and it’s not a lie.
“Look at that guy—he’s a creep—and she’s been drinking,” he spouts back.
“So, let her have fun. I thought that was what we were here for. You said you wanted to dance, but you haven’t danced with me once.” I can hear a little anger seeping into the blonde’s voice, but Craig ignores it.
He flings her hand off his chest. “If you want to dance, go dance. Nothing is stopping you.” He’s angry, too, but not at the blonde. He’s pissed at the guy who has his hands wrapped around the friend’s waist.
“You don’t give a shit about what I do, but you’re worried about Carissa,” the blonde spits. He spares her a glance as she storms into the middle of the dance floor.
I’m close enough to him now to hear him mutter, “Yeah, ‘cause no one wants to fuck you.” It’s a tiny lie, one he tells himself, because he doesn’t want to be with her anymore. If I’ve seen this once, I’ve seen it a hundred times. The blonde is safe. She’s sweet, she’s the one his parents expect him to marry because she’s loyal to a fault, but he can barely stand looking at her any longer.
With the blonde gone, Craig makes his way over to the friend. “Hey, Carissa, you doing okay?” he asks the question to the girl, but stares down the guy that’s been dancing with her. Carissa giggles and leans into Craig’s chest.
“I’m so glad you guys are here. Where’s Lindsey?” She peers over Craig’s shoulder.
Craig uses the closeness to wrap his arm around Carissa’s back and pulls her in close, creating distance between her and the other man.
Without answering the question about where his girlfriend is, he starts swaying to the music, still holding Carissa tightly against him.
It doesn’t take her more than a handful of seconds before Carissa is moving right along with Craig.
The low simmer of rage tickles my senses, and my eyes are immediately drawn to Lindsey, the blonde. She’s standing a few feet back into the crowd and her hands are balled up into tiny fist. I’m pulled to her and the vengeful wrath she’s feeling. I glance over my shoulder once to see Craig dip his head close to Carissa’s neck as his hand slides down to cup her ass.
The hurt and anger from Lindsey mixes together, forming a potent feast. I open myself up to the sins from Carissa and Craig, making my way over to Lindsey for the real meal.
Her emotions are justified, so the smudge left on her soul for the searing hate she’s feeling doesn’t so much as leave a mark, but more of a scar. This is something that will shape the rest of her future.
Many things can happen from this point on. She could act on the rage building inside of her, but doing so would make the smudge Carissa and Craig are getting for their deceit look like a tiny stain in comparison.
Lindsey’s feelings aren’t going to get her in trouble, but acting on them will. Delivering her vengeance, as deserved as it is, would earn a mark that would eventually sully her soul.
I taste Lindsey’s heart-searing pain when I take in the essence of her sin. She loves Craig. Even when she knew he never loved her as much as she loved him, she thought she was enough, thought if she could be everything he wanted, then he would come to need her the way she needed him.
I shiver as a true desire to hurt Craig and Carissa overcomes Lindsey, but it dissipates just as quickly as it came. I watch as inky black spots bleed together over Lindsey’s heart, changing the person she is. I almost feel sad for her. If I could see my own soul, I bet I would have a black shield over my chest, much like the one she’s forming now. But I’m not sure if I even have a soul.
I stay close to Lindsey, no longer hungry for sins—her trio has provided a meal that will last weeks—but still curious about how this will all play out. Call it the train wreck syndrome: I can’t look away. She makes her way over to the bar, pushing herself to the front a little roughly. “Give me a shot.” She shouts to be heard over the noise.
“Of what?” Nat leans in a little closer.
“Anything—something strong,” Lindsey demands. Nat gives a slight twist of her head. I bet she can figure out what’s going on, just like I could. You can’t be a bartender for years and not pick up on all the drama.
I scan my eyes over the crowd to find Craig again, but I spot Gunnar, still shirtless. He’s stomping across the ground like a man on a mission. People move out of his way without any prompting. Forgetting about Lindsey and Craig, I move parallel to Gunnar, making sure to keep a good distance between us, which isn’t hard. It seems like people move into my way in the same way they move out of his.
