FEED: Feed By Joshua McMullen

4/25/18 – Feed
Words – 498
Feed
By Joshua McMullen

Lucas had admired her from across the room, and his brain along with his eyes immediately began feeding him information: mid-20s, about five-foot-three…unrealistically long ginger hair that spread like a wavy wildfire down her back…and a look that said in big, neon letters, “I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.”

Abrielle didn’t, of course. Her sister dragged her here with the promise of all the Shirley Temples she could drink if she drove her home. Meanwhile, guys came up to her almost all night, feeding her every single tired line of bull (and some that would make for some frightening Google searches as well). She just dismissed them the only way she knew how: with an exasperated sigh. She sipped her fourth Shirley Temple of the night in annoyance, watching her sister flirt indiscriminately.

With all the guys walking up to her, it was plain to Lucas that he had no chance. Five men had gone up to her, and all five of them had walked away with little more than a bruised ego. Even so, he thought she looked absolutely angelic, especially when she very nearly dropped her glass and caught it without spilling a single drop. He even noticed the way she self-consciously tried to make herself blend in among the rabble, clamoring for alcohol.

Abrielle tried covering up her shoulders with her hands, made bare by her sister’s attempts to make her “presentable.” Despite what she thought, Abrielle did not think a scarlet off-the-shoulder shirt and skintight jeans made her presentable– they just made her feel completely laid bare.

Lucas took the stool beside her without even thinking. For whatever reason, he didn’t say anything, just sat right down and ordered a drink. “You’re not going to try to buy me one?” Abrielle asked, pushing up her glasses and readying her tried-and-true exasperated sigh.

“Nope,” Lucas said. “Truth is, I think you’re absolutely beautiful. But clearly, I have about as much chance as the rest of them, probably less.”

Abrielle looked at him, her eyebrow raised. “Really? They were meatheads…you’re clearly more intelligent than you let on from across the room.”

“Really, I’m nothing special,” Lucas said, taking a big swig of his drink while Abrielle traced the rim of her glass thoughtfully. Then out of nowhere, she took his hand and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

They walked around a long and winding path, talking about everything and nothing at the same time until they came to a tiny park overlooking the river. Seeing that she was shivering, he took his coat and draped it over her shoulders. After walking for a little while, they came to a tiny park overlooking a river.

Abrielle took a candy stick from her pocket and offered it to him. What happened next was just a result of the night’s events: not thinking, just doing. Interlacing his fingers in hers, he took the stick, ate it, then gave her a passionate kiss.

Abrielle could taste the chocolate.

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