Save and Pursue

I stared at my reflection, trying to comprehend the being behind the glass. I feel remarkably distant from the face in the mirror just inches away. People like my face, compliment my appearance. I say thank you, as is expected, but what am I thanking them for? I did nothing to earn my looks, I was born with them. I could understand someone complimenting my makeup, that is something I am responsible for, but my full lips, my eyes that change from blue to green depending on what I am wearing, that isn’t me. My appearance is not a reflection of who I am.

“Casey!” I hear my name called from the hallway. I feel distant from that too, as if it is just an arbitrary sound that I have been trained to respond too. Technically, that’s all names are. We try to inject meaning into them, like how the name ‘Casey’ means brave and courageous. I am not brave and courageous. I am average.

I shake my head, freeing myself from my depressing revelry.

“I’m in here” I called from my room, applying one last layer of lip balm, tinted to enhance the red of my lips.

Hannah comes bursting into the room. She is a ball of contagious energy that I deeply appreciate as a distraction from my self-indulgent musings.

“Are you ready to go? I hear the party is already raging!” Hannah says excitedly while fluffing her curled dark hair in the mirror. I check my hair in the mirror too, pleased that my hour of effort working on it has paid off. The honey blonde locks fall in loose waves to under my breasts, it’s getting long.

“Yeah let’s get going,” I answer. I’m getting excited and definitely ready for a night out. I’m not usually into parties due to some bad experiences I’ve had with alcohol and an ex-boyfriend, but tonight I’m just happy to dress up, drink a moderate amount, and see my friends.

Hannah and I make our way down the street chatting and complimenting each other’s wardrobe choices. Hannah is wearing a royal blue dress that floats gracefully as she spins to show it off. I am in a deep maroon dress that shows off my chest pretty darn well if I do say so myself. The party is being hosted by a distant acquaintance that lives a walkable amount of blocks away from my apartment. Hannah had heard about it from a friend of a friend of a friend, which suggests that this party will be huge and probably out of control.

I start to zone out as Hannah chatters on and on about her job, her brother’s girlfriend, a birthday party she had when she was six. I love her but Hannah can talk anyone into an early grave. One time while we were watching a play together, she would not shut up. An actor was so furious that he came off the stage and duct taped her mouth shut. I don’t know why he had duct tape, but Hannah raved about how smooth her upper lip was when we ripped it off in the lobby after the show.

I'm brought back to earth when Hannah seizes my arm, “We gotta find you a hot guy to flirt with!” she exclaims.

“What? No, I just want to hang out with you and the rest of the group.” The group includes me, Hannah, our girlfriend Shay, and our guy friends Aaron and Josiah. We had all attended the same high school and had known of each other, but it wasn’t until after we graduated three years ago that we all became good friends. Hannah essentially forced us all to hangout until we got along, now they were ‘the group’ and my closest friends.

Hannah pouted her bottom lip, “Why not?” she says with a slight whine. Her pout turns into a sly smile, “Unless you just want to see Josiah, that I can get behind.”

I rolled my eyes. Hannah has been shipping me and Josiah for ages. Granted he's an attractive guy, tall, a dark, and handsome. But there isn’t anything romantic between us, not for me at least. He is perfectly nice but that's not enough. However, according to Hannah’s reports, Josiah has started to see things her way. I pray that he won’t act on it, I don’t want to ruin our friendship or the dynamic of the group with an awkward rejection.

“Hannah you have to stop with that, I’m not interested in him so stop encouraging it. Nothing is going to happen if I have any say” I end with a sigh.

“But he likes you! He’s really looking forward to seeing you tonight, he told me himself.
You’ve been so busy with school that the others rarely see you anymore” Hannah says with some bitterness.

“Sorry I’m getting an education,” I say with a smirk.

“Don’t get sassy on me; you know that’s not what I meant.” I’m exasperating Hannah by not conforming to her will, its entertaining.

I laugh, grabbing Hannah’s hand and hurrying her along, “Come on, I can hear the music!”


Hannah attempts to make an entrance by throwing open the double doors, but it’s so loud and crowded that nobody inside pays any attention. They guy hosting the party still lives in his parents house, which is almost big enough to classify as a mansion. Its full to the brim with young adults, but I swears some of these people have to be teenagers. There’s alcohol, loud, trashy music, and an air of desperation of people trying to get laid.

“Shay says she and the guys are in the living room,” Hannah says glancing at her phone. We wind through the crowd to the left of the entrance area on the hunt for our friends.

We find them in a couple of chairs and beanbags in the corner of the crowded room, all with drinks in their hands.

“Its about time!” Aaron shouts, launching up from his beanbag and pulling Hannah and I into hugs under each arm.

Josiah stands up too, hugging Hannah before locking his eyes on me. Well, on my chest, more accurately. I dodge his arms as he moves in for a hug, diving into a beanbag and greeting Shay. I thought I had got away smoothly with avoiding him, but apparently not. His eyes finally find mine, rather than my chest, looking wounded.

Hannah attempts to put away the awkwardness by exclaiming that we needs some drinks.
She pulls Josiah off with her to locate the alcohol. I quickly catch up with Shay while Aaron drapes his long body across a beanbag and supports his sandy blonde hair on a chair, looking at me. I avoid his gaze, assuming the curious look he’s giving me is about my apparently obvious attempt to dodge Josiah’s embrace. Fuck I’m awkward. I glance around the room instead of meeting Aaron’s gaze, observing the people around me.

The living room is almost packed. People are sitting on couches and standing in clusters, everyone has a drink in their hand. I stop my casual perusal of the room, gaze locked on a pair of green eyes, they belong to a man standing in a group across the large and crowded living room. He is gorgeous. Curly brown hair perfectly messy, toned biceps in a tight black t-shirt that almost has me swooning, and those eyes, staring right back at me. Not one to back away from a challenge, I smirk at him, trying to seem confident though I can feel colour rising in my cheeks. I look away. Shay had asked me a question.

“Sorry?” I ask. I missed what she had said, distracted by those biceps.

“I asked how school was going; you’ve got to be near the end, right?” Shay repeats her question.

“Yeah I’m almost done all the papers I have due and then it’s just finals, and I’ll be done.”

“This is your third year, yeah? Are you ready to graduate next year?” I appreciate that Shay is interested in my life, but right now I’d rather keep looking at that guy than keep up a conversation.

“Yup I’m almost done my third year, I can’t believe how fast it went. So far, I don’t have any post-grad plans. I love my major but it doesn’t exactly lead you into to any particular job like nursing or business.” I was majoring in Intercultural studies at a prestigious university close to where I grew up and went to high school. My friends had come to my area of town to come to this party, which is close to my apartment near campus. I spare a glance over to the beautiful man across the room. He still looking at me, which causes me to quickly avert my eyes and smile at the ground.

Shay was about to ask something else but I stand up. “I’m going to find Hannah, she and Jo have been gone too long and I need a drink.” As I walk across the room, I make eye contact with the green-eyed babe yet again. He starts to move across the room too, I look away, losing my nerve and heading toward the table in the dining room with the broad selection of alcohol. I start mixing myself a drink in a classic red solo cup. A little bit of vodka, some orange juice… I’m about to add a dash of cranberry juice when someone puts his hands on my waist. I try not to react too violently. I assumed it was the guy with biceps to die for, but when I whirl around, it’s not. Its Josiah. A very drunk Josiah. He must’ve been off doing shots with Hannah who can drink anyone under the table.

Josiah grins at me, but he’s squeezing my waist too tight. It feels almost aggressive but I put it down to him just being drunk. I squirm, trying to get away from him, but he just holds on tighter, digging his thumbs in above my hips. He moves me against the wall, effectively trapping me. Fuck.

His grin turns into a frown as I struggle against his grip.

“Josiah, you’re hurting me,” I say as calmly as I can while the pain grows where his thumb is digging into me.

“You hurt me, you know,” He says, his voice slurring a little. “Avoiding my hugs. That’s not very nice.” He lifts one of his hands and puts it on my shoulder; his thumb brushes patterns on my neck and makes my skin crawl. With one of his hands off my waist, I try to move away, my mind racing trying to come up with ways to get out of this, but he moves his body against mine, pinning me to the wall. He’s just drunk, this is Josiah, my friend who I can laugh with for hours and who cares about me. As I try to inch away his eyes darken, his hand locks on my collar bone while some fingers go around my neck to keep me in place. He pushes his hips against mine and I can feel his hardness pressing into my hip. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Stop!” I say, my voice rising in pitch as I start to panic. This isn’t my friend. His grip just tightens and I let out a whimper. He starts to growl something in my ear but is interrupted by a voice from behind him.

“She said stop,” a low voice states firmly. I look past Josiah’s shoulder into a pair of striking green eyes.

“Back off mate,” Josiah mumbles without looking behind him, now staring at my chest again and grinding his hips against me roughly.

The new male puts a strong hand on Josiah’s shoulder and drags him back a step. His grip loosens just enough that I can slip away but he swipes after me with grabby hands. The man spins Josiah around, giving me a chance to get across the room and out of Jo’s reach.

“Just get lost mate,” Josiah slurs making a movement as if he’s going to come after me. But the man, who is slightly taller and a lot broader, keeps his arm on his shoulder, staring at him with dark eyes, his jaw tense.

Josiah stares back, it’s like witnessing two dogs challenging each other, both dead set on being the alpha male.

Suddenly, moving with speed impressive for a person so inebriated, Josiah swings a fist, making contact with the man’s temple. The scene draws a crowd and the people start to chant, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” The man doesn’t make a move to retaliate, even though the blow split his brow and it’s starting to drip blood faster and faster. I dart over to the two guys as Josiah raises his fist again. I stomp on Josiah’s foot with all my strength and he bends over, groaning. I grab the beautiful strangers hand and drag him behind me. I drag him all the way to an upstairs bathroom that is large and lavishly decorated.

I sit the man on the side of the bath where I can look at his wound, which has dripped blood down the side of his face and has started to soak his black t-shirt. I busy myself, getting a cloth a putting it under some water while he gazes at me with an intensity that is making me nervous. I approach him with the wet cloth. His body is relaxed, his long legs in dark jeans stretched out in front of him, one hand on the side of the tub, and one hand resting on his leg. But those eyes make it impossible for me to relax. I step towards him, wondering if I should say something. I don’t know if I could if I wanted to. While he’s sitting down, I have a couple inches on him and he looks up at me when I touch the cloth to his face. The cut has stop bleeding profusely, but there’s still blood down his cheek and jaw. I put a hand on his cheek to turn his face away from me slightly, giving me better access to his brow. His cheek is warm and being this close to him is making me burn all over.

I gently rub the cloth on his face as he stares into mine. I internally appreciate to fact that he’s not staring at my breasts even though they’re practically in his face as I bend slightly to reach his temple.

“Thank you,” I murmur, finally getting the nerve to speak. I was making progress on the blood on his cheek and slowly working my way down. I’m proud to say that I was only slightly distracted by his bicep that was flexing to balance himself on the edge of the tub.

“No problem,” he says back. I notice how great his voice is, deep and little rough. Sexy.

Then he pokes my waist, just above my hip with the hand that was in his lap. I gasp and flinch away. That hurt.

His eyebrows lower into a frown and he stands, now towering above my small 5’5’’ frame. He takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face the mirror while standing behind me. My body heats up at his touch. However, to my chagrin, he lifts the bottom of my dress, raising it to reveal my hip. Luckily I’m wearing spandex shorts under the dress so he’s not getting a free peep show. But he didn’t know that. Who goes around lifting girls dresses?

My train of thought is interrupted as my eyes land on a big dark spot on my hip. There’s a large bruise where Josiah’s thumb had dug into me. I look at the strangers dark eyes in the mirror and tug down my dress. I turn away from the mirror to face him, my breasts just brushing against his hard chest.

I clear my throat, “I’m Casey, by the way,” trying to turn his attention away from the bruise and hopefully find out who this dress-lifter is.

“Harry,” he says, the frown falling from his face as he makes eye contact with me again.

“I’m sorry you got hurt” I say quietly, glancing at his cut and raising my hand to brush his face.

“It’s alright, it was worth it,” he says with a wink. He captures my hand in his, placing a kiss on the back of it. My face heats up immediately. He gently releases my hand and moves to the sink to turn the water on, cleaning the rest of the blood from his face.

My face continues to burn, I don’t know how to respond. I can’t remember the last time a guy was so… chivalrous towards me. Harry grabs a towel from the rack in the bathroom and dries his face, careful not to reopen the gash on his brow.

“How do I look?” he asks. He throws the towel into the hamper and spreads his arms for me to look at him. I take the opportunity to admire his body a little. Harry’s tall, probably around 6’2’’, long arms, big hands, broad chest and shoulders. I give him a quick nod of affirmation.

“You look fine but there’s blood on your shirt.” He looks down and shrugs. “It’s a black shirt, nobody will notice.”

“I noticed,” I say with a small smirk, “Come on, I know the guy who lives here, he’s got way too many clothes and won’t miss one shirt.” I grab his hand again and lead him to what looks like a young guy’s bedroom. I don’t know the guy that well, Jerry, I think his name is? But I do know he can afford to have one shirt go missing.

I go through a set of drawers looking for something for Harry, and find a navy t-shirt that looks like it should fit him. Thankfully, most men’s sizes are the same. A large fits a chubby guy and a jacked guy. I huck the shirt at him waiting expectantly. He looks at me with an indecipherable expression.

“Just put it on” I sigh. He unfolds the shirt. “You know, I think you just want me to take my shirt off” he says coyly.

“Actually,” I retort, “I think it’s weird for people to walk around with blood on them,” after a brief pause, I add, “You taking your shirt off is just an added bonus.”

He grins and reaches to remove his shirt. I not about to tell him that I wanted to avoid going downstairs where my friends and Josiah are. With a quick motion his t-shirt is over his head, and I was not prepared to see what was underneath. The most perfect body I have ever seen. Pecks, abs, and oh man, those v lines. There goes my body, heating up again. I hate that one guy is causing my central heating and cooling system to go all out of whack. Harry grins at me again and gives me a wink before pulling on the borrowed shirt.

I mentally collect myself, trying to think of another reason to avoid going downstairs. And maybe another reason to stick around this beautiful specimen. He’s staring at me again. I run a hand through my hair and exhale a shaky breath.

“You okay?” Harry asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, fine,” I breath out.

He looks unconvinced, and starts to move towards me. “Well, if you’re avoiding going downstairs, I can think of one think we can do to kill some time,” he says, his voice becoming huskier. He’s standing close to me and reaches his hand to touch my face. He’s going to kiss me. I put a hand on his chest, stopping his movement.

“I don’t kiss strangers, Harry,” I state firmly. Don’t get me wrong, Harry is drop dead gorgeous and his perfect lips are extremely tempting, but I'm not about to compromise my principles on a lustful whim.

Rather than being upset, like Josiah was, he simply laughs it off, a sound that has a feeling stirring in my stomach.

“That’s fair; we can just hang out until you feel like going downstairs.” I give him a small smile, surprised again at his chivalry.

I'm about to agree with his suggestion, when we are interrupted by Hannah bursting in the door, looking frazzled.

“There you are!” she exclaims. Darting over to me and grabbing one of my hands in both of hers. “I’m so sorry, Casey! Some loser downstairs told me what Josiah did. It’s all my fault! I challenged him to do shots with me, I didn’t know he was such a light weight!”

“Hannah, its fine,” I say, trying to stop the torrent of words spilling from her mouth. “It’s not your fault, Josiah’s just a dick apparently.”

Hannah is about to open her mouth again when her eyes fall on Harry. “Oh… Hello,” she mumbles, colour rising in her cheeks as she turns her wide eyes to me. I smile. It’s not often Hannah’s at a loss for words, but a guy with a face and body like Harry’s seems to have done the trick.

“Hannah this is Harry, Harry, my friend Hannah,” I introduce the two. Hannah sticks her hand out to shake Harry’s, who dwarfs her hand in his massive one.

“You must be the guy who Josiah punched,” Hannah asks cautiously glancing at his split brow. Harry quirks one side of his mouth in a grin “That’s me,” he replies.

“Where’s Josiah now?” I ask Hannah.

“Still downstairs,” she answers. “Aaron’s trying to sober him up but it was a losing battle when I left to find you,” she turns back to Harry. “So Harry, do you make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress?”

“Hannah-” I try to cut off her imminent line of questioning, but Harry beats me with his reply.

“When a damsel looks like your friend here, it’s hard to resist,” He says coyly. I know it's supposed to be a compliment, but it rubs me the wrong way. I mean what the fuck, people should help others no matter what they look like. Did he come to my rescue on the hopes of getting laid?

“Oh, so if I didn’t look the way I do, you wouldn’t have helped me?” I say, glaring slightly. My comment seems to have caught him off guard, something that hasn’t happened yet in this whole fiasco of an evening. He starts to say something, but I grab Hannah’s hand and start to leave the room. There’s nothing he can say. He’s just another shallow guy. Hannah’s giving me a look, a ‘how can you leave such a hot guy who’s obviously into you’ look. I roll my eyes and go down the stairs, ready to leave this stupid party and forget this night.

Harry calls my name from the stairs as I exit the front door. Hannah, being the loyal friend she is, has resigned herself to leaving the party with me. I'm not mad at Harry. I'm mostly disappointed in how the evening went. I just wanted to laugh and drink with my friends but Josiah had to get wasted and be a tool, and Harry… Oh well, it’s not like I know the guy. All I know is that he’s attractive, which doesn’t mean anything.

“Casey, slow down,” Hannah whines. She was practically jogging to keep up with my brisk pace. I slowed down, trying to curb my emotions that are quickly spinning out of control. Josiah tried to hurt me. What would have happened if Harry didn’t stop him?

“I just want to get home,” I mumble. Hannah nods and we walk the rest of the way in silence.

Notes

I've never posted anything before so if you like it I'll post more of this story. Please let me know.