Page 76 of The Order

“Bourbon. I stole it from the locked study of this asshat’s house,” the man says, making a smile grow on my face almost instantly.

“Stealing from an upper leadership Official?” I say, letting the liquid run down my throat, warming my stomach once it settles. I wince at the taste, handing him back his flask with a small thank you. “For shame, what about your scorecard?” I question sarcastically, listening to the man's soft laugh.

“Fuck the scorecards. It's all bullshit,” the man says, shaking the pockets of his jacket, clearly filled with something much more valuable than bourbon. “Sometimes rich assholes need to know they’re not untouchable,” he says, clearly smiling beneath the mask. His eyes crease, showing the faint beginnings of what could be crow's feet.

I laugh with a smile, looking at him with pure amusement.

“This is usually the part where you look at me like I’m a criminal and go report me. The last two times I hit one of these parties, some uptight asshole was contacting an Official within minutes,” he starts, keeping his smile on his face. “Why do you look so amused?” he questions.

“It's just,” I begin. “No one ever goes against rules… it's nice to see,” I pause, thinking of Josh, “Plus, the asshole running this party has made my life hell,” I say, crossing my arms out of frustration.

“What's your name?” the boy questions, smiling as he drags down the mask again, taking another drink.

“See, if I tell you that, you will think I’m an uptight asshole like Josh.” The man raises an eyebrow, keeping his mask down as he watches me.

“I doubt that,” he says, deepening his breath. “Well, I guess I can’t tell you my name either. It makes things much more complicated if you try and find me after tonight.”

“Cryptic,” I say, nudging his foot with my own, hearing his laugh again.

The effects of the alcohol linger, making me want to scoot closer to my unknown companion.

The music shifts from its upbeat, loud tempo to something more peaceful. It’s a song filled with piano, followed by the background vocals of a woman's soft voice. I close my eyes, listening to the song with a smile. I feel something in front of me move and open my eyes to see his hand extended out in front of me. He is standing, waiting for me to notice him.

“What are you doing?” I question with a large grin.

“Take my hand so I don’t look like an idiot for trying this,” he says, only adding to the smile on my face.

His hand is much rougher than I expected, covered with callouses along his palm. I run my thumb along his hand, feeling his free hand gently grab my waist. I move my hands around his neck, and the hand I’d been holding before drops down to the other side of my waist. At this level, I see the scar along the man’s cheek, faint but it’s there. His large hands consume my sides, a growing heat taking over my body as he pulls me closer.

“How did you do that to your hands?” I question, feeling him guide us to the slow tempo.

“What's your name?” he questions again, smiling with me as we both refuse to oblige each other’s inquiries.

“Give me a new one,” I say, pulling myself a little closer, letting the alcohol guide me.

“Give you one?” he questions with a grin, wrapping one arm around my waist to dip me down. I smile as I grasp his front, doing my best not to laugh. I feel the stolen contents clatter around in his pockets, hitting against my leg.

“Yes, give me one,” I say once he has me back upright. My feet are becoming more unstable. With a lift, he has my feet on his own, guiding my steps like I’m weightless.

“I only just met you. Hard to give you a name with so little information,” he whispers, my eyes landing on his lips.

“My name is Forest,” I say, watching his body freeze at the mention of my name.

“That's your real name?” the man asks, like I’m playing a prank on him.

“In the flesh. I believe it's your turn now,” I say, feeling the man's touch slowly relax.

“Can I be honest with you right now?” the man questions, rubbing his thumbs along my waist, again starting the sway. The alcohol is affecting him now, too, his eyelids drooping more than when I’d first gotten here. He seems less tense, a little less rigid.

“I’m not from this sector,” he whispers in my ear, making my mouth dry up as I press my front to him. A million questions run through my head, each returning to one thought in particular.

He’s an Unfortunate.

I half expect myself to run away, ready to report this man for the list of violations he’s committed. I let his admission settle in my mind, one thought stopping me from going anywhere: In the twenty minutes I’ve danced with this man, I’ve felt safer than I have around anyone inside that house.

“That explains the hands,” I whisper, meeting his eyes again in the darkness. He looks confused by my reaction, raising both eyebrows at me.

“I just told you-”

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