Page 2 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

That had been my motto.

I’d repeated that my entire life. When I’d stolen granola bars from the gas station to feed Adam after school. When my mom’s card had bounced when I was tasked to buy Betty a birthday cake. When Mom had told me she’d met Paul and all I could think about was how the fuck any of us were going to survive if he was anything like the last six boyfriends.

Sunrise follows even the darkest night.

I’d sang it to my siblings as we curled up together to conserve heat while Mom worked the night shift to pay to get it switched back on. And even then I’d managed to muster the courage to smile. But now…now the reason I was fucked was entirely my own fault. I’d been too trusting. The fact I’d been a sunshine-kinda-guy had been my downfall.

What’s the sun supposed to do when it forgets what it’s like to shine?

Stupid shit apparently.

Sunshine McGee was now Sunshine McIdiot.

I rammed into another guy, distracted by my own internal dramatics. He was laughing, his head tossed back, glitter decorating his cheekbones. What was with all the glitter? Wasn’t tonight supposed to be Swap Night? As in, swap items on a blind date, not swap glitter like craft herpes. Laughing dude had a choker around his neck that spelled “daddy” in silver letters and I stared at it, dumbfounded, watching his throat bob as he stumbled. Belatedly I reached out to steady him, noting the fact the smell of his sweat was tinged with the musky sweet scent of weed.

“Shit, dude.” My fingers wrapped around his sweaty wrists as I righted him, my painting squeezed into the dip between my shoulder and elbow so I wouldn’t drop it. “I’m so sorry.”

“S’all good, man. Don’t worry about it.” Blond-and-too-pretty-for-his-own-good perked right back up. I could see the bar behind him. Just twenty more steps and I could’ve avoided this catastrophe and spent the next hour being dramatic with an audience (Violet) and what would be my last bottle of tequila for a while. “Woah.”

Woah, what?

“That is a sick painting!” Blondie flashed his pearly whites at me and an uncomfortable flush buzzed across my cheeks as I took a hasty step back. I didn’t want to be rude, but despite Violet’s urgings I wasn’t really ready to get up close and personal with anyone’s dicks at the moment. I didn’t think so anyway. I was in a no-dicking-zone. Even though, admittedly, I was horny as fuck and blondie looked like the exact kind of guy that wouldn’t mind bending me over the back of a couch in a dark room and showing me exactly how much he liked my art.

“Thank you.” Normally I’d try to be eloquent, but I still had the remnants of salt on my cheeks from my earlier cry-fest. I wasn’t proud of the amount of fries that I had managed to shove into my mouth all at once as I had sobbed myself silly against the steering wheel of Violet’s mom’s car.

“You here for singles-swap-night?” he asked, and I shook my head.

I’d seen a sign or two on my way to the club but it wasn’t like I’d been paying attention. I’d been more focused on my impending doom.

“Oh,” Blondie blinked, “I just figured, you know—with the painting and all—that must be why you’re here.”

“Are you here for singles-swap-night?” I asked, not because I was particularly invested in the answer, but because it was the polite thing to do.

“Abso-fucking-lutely I am.” Blondie flashed his teeth at me and for a moment I reconsidered my no-fucking rule. Maybe what I needed was a distraction? Sex was free. Right?

I turned on the charm, the way I’d learned to when I turned fifteen and figured out exactly what face to make to get the gas station cashier to pay attention to me and not my little brother so he could shove boxes of instant ramen in his backpack.

“You’re too pretty to be single,” I told him, bringing out my dimples full-force because I knew just how crazy guys got for them. Hunter had liked them too. Fuck. Don’t think about Hunter. Don’t think about the ring you pawned for last month’s rent. Don’t.

“You’re cute.” Blondie grinned. “But you’re right. I’m not.”

Ah. Damn.

“Though. My boyfriend and I have a lot of fun playing the field, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t, so I just smiled.

“He’s into…” he leaned in close, the scent of too much cologne filling my nose as he whispered the last word like a secret, “watching.”

Oh.

So was sex on or off the table?

“We have a third for tonight but…” Blondie cocked his head, “he can wait for a bit.” Something glittered where it sat around his neck, a silver chain catching the neon of the flashing lights. An elbow jostled me and my grip on my painting grew tighter as Blondie wrapped his fingers around the necklace hidden inside his black V-neck and pulled it up over his head. “I like your painting.”

So we’ve established.

“Thank you,” I repeated because I wasn’t sure what he was expecting from me.

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