Don’t Touch
1244 Words
The party was already loud before we even walked through the doors.
Music shook through the walls hard enough to feel in my ribs, lights cutting through crowded rooms filled with bodies, laughter, spilled drinks, perfume, heat.
Isla grabbed my wrist immediately.
“This,” she yelled over the music, grinning at me, “is exactly what I needed.”
I laughed despite myself as she pulled me deeper into the house.
People recognized us almost instantly.
Not surprising.
Graduation parties after summer break always turned into reunions disguised as disasters.
Someone handed Isla a drink before we’d even crossed the living room. Another appeared in my hand minutes later.
Then another.
And another.
The warmth settled in slowly after that.
Not enough to make me sloppy.
Just enough to make everything softer around the edges.
The music.
The lights.
The pressure in my chest I hadn’t realized I’d carried into the party with me.
For the first time all night, I stopped thinking about Damon Arden.
Mostly.
Isla disappeared into the crowd twice before returning laughing harder each time. By the third drink, she was dancing with strangers like she’d known them for years.
I stayed near the kitchen for a while, leaning against the counter with my cup in hand when someone stepped beside me.
“Alina, right?”
I looked over.
Tall. Attractive. Easy smile.
Familiar enough that I vaguely recognized him from school.
“Maybe,” I answered.
That made him laugh.
“Dangerous answer.”
“Depends who’s asking.”
He leaned against the counter beside me. “Ethan.”
“Alina.”
“I know.”
Something about him was easy to talk to. Confident without trying too hard. He moved closer every time the music got louder, his hand brushing lightly against my waist once when someone bumped into us.
I should’ve stepped away.
I didn’t.
Across the room, Isla was fully gone already.
She sat sideways in some guy’s lap near the couch, laughing into his mouth while he kissed her neck like he’d known her longer than twenty minutes.
Typical Isla.
I shook my head.
Ethan followed my gaze and smirked. “Your friend looks occupied.”
“She usually is.”
“Good for me, then.”
His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth.
Before I could answer—
Someone tapped his shoulder.
A guy leaned in close enough to whisper something into his ear.
I watched Ethan’s expression change almost immediately.
Not fear.
Recognition.
His eyes flicked toward me once.
Then toward Isla.
Then back again.
He stepped away slowly. “I should… probably not.”
I frowned slightly. “Not what?”
A pause.
Then a small laugh under his breath.
“Mess with Arden girls.”
And just like that, he was gone.
The warmth in my chest shifted.
Not embarrassment.
Something stranger.
Something heavier.
Before I could think too much about it, Isla came stumbling toward me with flushed cheeks and ruined lipstick.
“You look traumatized,” she announced.
“I think your last victim got warned away from me.”
She burst out laughing. “Already?”
I opened my mouth to answer—
Her phone rang.
She groaned dramatically the second she saw the screen.
“Oh my god.”
I already knew.
“My dad,” she muttered.
She answered lazily. “Hi, father.”
A pause.
Then another.
Her expression changed slightly.
Not guilty.
Annoyed.
“Yeah, yeah. We’re coming.”
She pulled the phone away from her ear and shoved it into my hand.
“He wants you.”
My stomach tightened for absolutely no reason.
I lifted the phone slowly. “Hello?”
His voice came through low and even.
“Outside. Now.”
No greeting.
No explanation.
Just certainty.
Then the line disconnected.
I stared at the screen a second longer before lowering it.
Isla was already grabbing my wrist again. “Come on before he kills me.”
We stumbled outside together, laughing under our breath as cool air hit my skin.
Then I saw him.
And the laughter died immediately.
Damon leaned against the front of the black car parked beneath the street lights.
Dark shirt tonight.
Sleeves rolled again.
Head lowered slightly before he looked up at us.
His gaze moved first to Isla.
Then to me.
And stayed there a moment too long.
Not angry.
Somehow worse.
The closer we got, the quieter I became.
Isla didn’t care.
She walked straight past him toward the backseat. “You’re ruining my social life.”
“Get in the car.”
She rolled her eyes but obeyed anyway.
I stopped beside the door, suddenly remembering—
“My bag.”
Damon looked at me.
“I left it inside.”
“I’ll go grab it—”
“You’re not going in alone.”
The answer came immediately.
Like there hadn’t been another option.
Before I could argue, he pushed away from the car and walked toward the house.
I followed.
The second we stepped back inside, the atmosphere changed.
Not fully.
The music still blasted through the walls. People still danced and drank and shouted over each other.
But they noticed him.
Eyes followed us through the crowd.
Or maybe just him.
I could feel the heat crawling into my face the entire walk to the kitchen.
I grabbed my bag quickly from beside the counter. “Okay. Got it.”
When I turned back toward him, he was still watching me.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Which somehow made it harder to breathe normally.
I moved toward the hallway. “Come on.”
Halfway there, I stopped abruptly.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then he nodded once.
I turned down the empty hallway, heels quieter against the floor now that the music felt farther away.
I reached for the bathroom handle—
And felt him behind me.
Close.
Too close.
I turned too quickly and nearly ran into him.
He didn’t move.
Just looked down at me.
The alcohol in my system suddenly felt warmer than before.
“Why are you following me?” I asked softly.
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“No?”
His gaze dropped briefly.
To my mouth.
Then back up.
Something in my chest tightened.
I placed a hand against his chest automatically, meaning to push him back slightly—
And instantly regretted it.
Because he caught my wrist.
Fast.
His other hand braced beside my head against the wall behind me, boxing me in before I could think properly.
My breath caught.
He leaned down just enough that I felt his voice more than heard it.
“You’ve been testing limits all night.”
The hallway suddenly felt too small.
Too warm.
My pulse stumbled when his grip tightened slightly around my wrist.
“Touching me isn’t a good idea, Alina.”
My hand slid slightly against his shirt from the movement, brushing the hard lines beneath it.
His jaw tightened immediately.
That tiny reaction nearly destroyed me.
Then his eyes lifted back to mine.
Controlled.
Dangerously controlled.
“Use the bathroom,” he said quietly.
A pause.
“Before I decide you need to be punished for tonight.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
Punished.
The word settled low in my stomach before my brain could process it.
And the worst part—
He knew exactly what it did to me.
- Writer
