Page 8 of Scattered Glitter

Damn, scorching hot doesn’t even begin to cover it.

As much as I might want to jump him here and now, I have rules. I don’t shit where I eat, and this club is the place I come to blow off steam and keep my thoughts from spiraling when I don’t want to go home alone.

“Happens sometimes.” I shrug, taking the cigarette Annabelle just lit, pulling in a quick drag before passing it back, but it barely scratches the itch. My attention keeps drifting to him, the slow, deliberate way he inhales, the faint curl of smoke escaping his lips, and most of all, the unmistakable scent of what he’s smoking. It’s rich, heady, and hits me like a siren’s call.

I want it. The blunt, sure, but more than that, the act itself. The intimacy of his fingers brushing mine, the shared breath of smoke, the indulgence. My gaze flickers to his hand, to the glowing tip, and I swear I taste it on my tongue even before I’ve had it.

Of course, he notices, and the next thing I know, he’s holding the blunt out, just inches from my lips, his eyes glinting with an unspoken challenge.

No one has ever had to challenge me to get high.

I lean in, taking a long drag while keeping eye contact,noting how his lip twitches and his eyes darken. He’s probably imagining me sucking his dick.

You have no idea how much I’d love to do that for you, buddy.

I blow the smoke out slowly, leaning back like it’s no big deal, even though it’s hitting just right. He holds my gaze for a moment longer before he turns to Annabelle, who’s been watching the exchange with mild interest.

“You too?” He holds the blunt out to her.

Annabelle shakes her head, smiling politely as she hands our cigarette back to me. “No, thanks, I’m not into that stuff.”

He nods and takes another hit, his gaze flicking back to me. There’s something in his eyes again, like he’s trying to peel back the layers and see what’s underneath all the glitter.

Yeah, no.

This isn’t about connection. It’s about distraction, about numbing the ache long enough to get through the night. That’s what Vortex is for. What this alley is for.

Annabelle nudges me. “Come on, let’s go back inside. I want to dance more before we leave.”

“Yeah,” I agree, flicking the butt of my cigarette to the ground like I didn’t just spend the last thirty seconds unraveling under his gaze. “Thanks for the hit.”

“Anytime, Sparkle,” he replies smoothly, the weight of his gaze heavy on my back as we head back inside.

The noise and the heat wrap around us once more, and we dance for another couple of hours, the drinks still flowing.

Every time I glance over at the bar, I catch Hottie watching me, but soon, the alcohol does its work, and I’m too drunk to care.

We stumble out of the club when we call it a night,Annabelle giggling as she clings to my arm. We find an Uber, and I slide into the back seat, settling into the only position I can handle in a car nowadays.

Curled up sideways with my back against the door.

Annabelle chatters away, her excitement still bubbling over as I let my head rest against the window, trying to keep the memories at bay. But the hum of the engine isn’t just noise. It’s a ghost, slipping through the cracks of my buzz, tugging at memories I’ve tried to bury. Ace’s laugh, Rosalee’s hand reaching for mine, the sharp sting of loss that still feels fresh even after all these years.

I close my eyes, leaning into the glass, praying that the alcohol is strong enough to drown them out.

CHAPTER THREE

Novalee

The apartment I share with Annabelle is a cozy two-bedroom with a living room that boasts a pink couch and a television snug against the small, cramped kitchen. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the first place I’ve ever been able to truly call mine. And to me, it’s perfect.

Annabelle drops her purse on the counter, flashing me a grin as she slips off her heels. “Twinkie?” she asks, heading toward the kitchen.

“Sure,” I call out, already making my way to my bedroom. There’s something I need to take care of first. “Be right back.”

She doesn’t know about the watches, not that she needs to. I keep that part of my life tucked away, largely within the velvet box under my bed.

Once in my room, I shut the door quietly and let the familiar scent of vanilla and sweets wrap around me. For a moment, I lean against it as the weight of the night settles over me.

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