still take you home | toulouse & adella
He could feel the bass pounding its way through his entire body, steady and full like a heartbeat and if he closed his eyes long enough he was sure he could feel his pulse syncing up to the rhythm of the song. When he opened them again she was still there, his nameless girl, standing in front of him with a small smile resting on her lips.
She wasn’t nameless, he had to remind himself. She had told him her name not 5 minutes before, it was A something. Ariana or Arabella or Attila the Hun. He would remember eventually.
She talked for what seemed like minutes, about what he couldn’t tell, although it didn’t seem to matter that he wasn’t paying attention to her words, as long as he was paying attention to the rest of her.
Azalea, April, Antoinette...
Somewhere in the middle of their mostly one-sided conversation, he noted that he had been appraising her like she was someone’s work on display. The fleeting thought of his mother’s disapproval exited his mind as quickly as it had entered, pushed out of the way with the realization of just how Too she was. Hair too shiny, makeup too perfect, smile too clever, eyes too sure. It was everything he never wanted and yet he wanted it all the same.
Amanda, Alyssa, Amber, Aubrey...
His eyes flashed to her mouth as he watched her lick her lips and he suddenly felt antsy. Something akin to nerves, although he’d never admit to such, seemed to flare up under his skin. He felt his hand scratch at his side, grasping blindly in the low lighting of the bar for his jacket pocket where he kept his cigarettes and rejoiced silently to himself when he managed to pull one out, bringing it to his lips before igniting the end with a flick of his lighter. He inhaled deeply, eyes closing once again as the haze from the smoke and the music enveloped him.
He turned his head to the side as he exhaled, careful not to blow smoke in her face, and when he turned to face her once more she was frowning, a judgmental shadow in her eyes. Oh, baise-moi, Apple or Alanna or Anais was going to turn out to be one of those soapbox cigarette people, wasn’t she? He watched her open her mouth, no doubt to start on some speech, so he surged forward, connecting their lips in a demanding kiss. Whatever qualms she may have had against cigarette breath seemed to die with a sigh into his mouth.
“Adella.” It slipped past his lips before he could stop it and his only hope was that he didn’t sound too proud of himself. If he did she didn’t comment on it, staring up at him with dazed eyes.
“You wanna get out of here?”
