“Could you be any lamer?” Angel, Harlee’s wild-haired best friend startles me with her sudden presence. I don’t see the fun in having random sweaty strangers rub up all over you like that. She rolls her eyes and throws me an annoyed glare but is quickly distracted when a dark-haired man steps up behind her and begins rubbing his crotch into her backside. I shake my head and hold up my drink when my roommate Harlee waves for me to join her on the dance floor. A far cry from the legal or medical degree my parents’ dreamed I would pursue. Luckily I worked my butt off in high school and graduated at the top of my class, earning myself quite a hefty Art scholarship to The University of Oregon. Of course, they refused to pay for even one dime of my tuition. My parents’ were furious and while things are still not okay with us, we are at least on speaking terms again. It wasn’t an easy decision leaving my home in West Virginia, let alone moving to the opposite side of the country, but I knew if I wanted any chance of becoming my own person I had to do it. Of course, I had blinders on for most of my life, thanks to my overprotective parents who kept me, from what I am now learning, quite sheltered. Places like this don’t exist in the tiny town I grew up in, at least not that I was ever aware of. With dark walls, wild lights, and the most elaborate looking glass bar, I can honestly say I have never stepped foot inside of somewhere even remotely similar to this. To say a bar named Deviants is out of my comfort zone is a major understatement. Even still, I do my best not to seem too out of place sitting at a round high-top table all by myself in the back of a hopping bar, sipping virgin strawberry daiquiris like I am not the biggest loser in the world. It’s been nearly two months since I moved to Oregon, and I still feel like such an outsider. But now as I sit here watching the two girls grind on any man within a ten-foot radius of them, it’s blindingly clear that fitting in is not something I am doing. I guess it’s my feeble attempt to feel like I’m a part of something to fit in. I don’t know why I let my roommate and her crazy best friend drag me all the way to Portland, let alone dress me in this tight little cocktail dress that makes it feel difficult to breathe normally. I knew I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I silently close my eyes and let the darkness take me. This damaged broken body that has no fight left in it. I want to scream, demand that I see him, but I’m a prisoner to this body. I can feel it like losing a part of myself. My mind may not be able to process what is happening but somehow it already seems to know. “Conner,” I demand more forcefully, still too disoriented to know who I am speaking to. “He’s responding.” I hear the voice say to another. “Where’s Conner?” I try again, this time my voice managing to catch the attention of a man next to me, his face unrecognizable through my blurred, distorted vision. “Conner,” I manage to say, but my voice is broken and not audible over the bustle of unrecognizable people that seem to close in around me. My eyes dart open, searching frantically. I can feel it coursing through my limbs, demanding to be felt. My body becomes weightless, lifting from the ground as if to float away. Except one.the screaming woman, her I know. The shrill cries of a woman that pierces my ears with so much intensity the ringing in my head becomes nearly unbearable, the pressure between my temples threatening to explode at any moment.ĭistant voices filter into the chaos of white noise and random muffled tones seem to seep their way in from a distant place. Embrace the madness.ĭecklan Screams, that’s all I can hear. Sometimes falling in love is more than just crazy, it's downright stupid. Crazy Stupid Love (Crazy Love #1) by Melissa Toppen
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