A**hole

MILES

*WARNING SCENE OF PANIC ATTACK*

I stumbled around the mansion, trying different doors until I found a bathroom. Luckily, no one was inside, so I locked it behind me. The bathroom was larger than my room, and it looked so nice I didn't dare touch anything. There was a large mirror on a lone wall, and I slowly made my way to see my back.

A gasp left my lips as I looked. Large circles of purple, green, and red were there in splotches. Everybody had seen them. Maybe even people from school. I tried to swallow back my panic. I never wanted anyone to see. I didn't want everyone to know I was actually weak. The panic was still crawling up my throat.

'Don't forget, Miles, you're nothing.'

My mother's words haunted my mind like a ghost with unfinished business. I smacked my hands over my ears and crouched down.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed in the bathroom. waiting for my panic to calm, for my mothers voice to quiet down, but when it didn't, I knew I had to get out of there.

I put my beer soaked flannel back on. Unlocking the door, I swung it open and went back into the crowd of people, Kenzie nowhere to be seen.

The house was so large I couldn't find the entrance Kenzie and I came in from. Voices were getting louder, and my body was getting hotter. I felt like my lungs were being squeezed tight. I clutched my flannel tighter around myself. Were my bruises covered? Could everyone still see? It felt like they could. Like they knew I took beatings every day of my life and just let it happen.

I looked around frantically until finally, I spotted a door with the darkness of the night outside of it. I practically ran over to it, not caring who I bumped along the way. My lungs squeezed tighter and tighter. I couldn't breathe.

I took my first step outside, letting the summer air wrap around me, but it wasn't enough. My legs kept going and going, breaking into a run. I kept going even though I felt like I would pass out. I ran, trying to focus on the grass under my feet when I heard a loud moan. It startled me so bad I tripped and fell on my knees.

I tried to catch my breath but I couldn't. My throat felt clogged. Only short strained gasps left my lips. My fingers curled into the grass, trying to hold on to something, anything.

'You're nothing.' Her words pounded in my head.

"What's wrong with her?" I heard from beside me, but it was muffled. Tucking my knees in, I held on to that, trying to put myself in my box.

"Fuck off." Another deep muffled voice said.

I heard some protests but couldn't make it out. Rocking back and forth, I let go of the grass and clutched my flannel.

'Get in your box, Miles. Get in your box,' I thought to myself. But my lungs didn't work. I was... I was losing myself in panic. Could a person die like that? Would I die? For a moment, I realized it didn't sound so bad. Dying.

'You're nothing.'

"I'm nothing."

"....."

I thought I could hear something.

"Ju.. br...."

Something warm held my face.

"Brea..."

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open.

"Breathe!"

I took in a gulp full of air as if I'd been under water. Golden eyes like amber honey stared back at me. "That's it," he said. "Just breathe. In and out. Nice and slow." His voice was a comfort, deep and even, vibrating through me like a tremor.

I did as he said, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly. It was warm hands that were on my cheeks. They felt nice, safe like my box.

Minutes felt like hours as I calmed down, and I realized I had my hands wrapped around his wrists, and the eyes that were in front of me belonged to none other than the asshole who poured his beer on me.

Dominic. For a moment, I let myself lean into the worry in his eyes. I let myself seek comfort from the warmth of his hands. But only for a moment.

My eyes went wide, and I shoved him away from me, making him fall on his ass. He looked as startled as I felt.

"I'm sorry!" I shook my head. "No wait, fuck you!" I smacked my forehead. "Fuck... that's not what I...you're still an asshole but thanks."

My mind was all jumbled from the alcohol and my panic attack and so were my words apparently. I had no idea what I was trying to say.

He smirked as he got up from the ground. "Which is it?"

I sat on the plush grass and looked away, taking in my new surroundings. "All of them."

I was in a garden. The fact that I had no recollection of how I got there made me tired. The panic attacks had been getting worse, and having an asshole help me through one was icing on the fucking cake.

It didn't matter. I was okay now and had to leave. I pushed up from the ground and dusted myself off for the second time of the night. I started to leave but halted when he asked me a question.

"So you're not a swindler?"

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and putting a wall of armor around myself. Now, he wanted to know if I was a swindler? How convenient for him to ask that when no one was around. "No asshole, I just learned from the best. It's not my fault you showed your insecurities."

He took a step towards me, his eyes glinting in warning. "Careful."

There was something about his tone that set me off. As if he had placed a chess peice on the board and invited me for a quick match. A challenge.

I was never one for mental games, but it didn't mean I didn't know how to play them. I lived with my mother after all, and this man made me want to test the limits. I didn't know if it was how damn attractive he was, or the alcohol, but I suddenly, I wanted a fucking challenge.

I scoffed. "Or what? You got another drink to spill?"

The side of his mouth turned up into half a smile, and I didn't like the way it made my heart jump. Why did he look so good in a plain T-shirt and jeans. And why did his eyes have to look so intense and hot, like he had a furnace behind them?

"I'll admit it wasn't my finest moment, and maybe I didn't expect you to wipe the floor with my ass so I showed horrible sportsmanship to you." His tone was light as if his words were meant to be a peace offering.

I studied him for a moment before responding.

"Is that supposed to be an apology?" I raised my eyebrows.

The asshole smirked and rolled his eyes. "It was just a little beer. You brought my mother into it," he claimed, with a shrug, as if that justified everything.

It was a fair statement. It dawned on me that other people probably had wonderful, loving relationships with their mothers. How fucking lovely.

"So you're a child. Noted," I told him, hating the envy in my voice.

"Seeing as you keep testing me, you either don't know who I am, or you're just plain stupid." He took another step closer to me.

His eyes raked over me slowly, like he wanted to eat me up, and it made me feel... excited.

"Yes, I'm sure you're very special. I just don't care," I egged on, wanting to hold on to that feeling.

He stepped closer. "That would be a mistake."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not scared of you."

"Maybe you should be." His tone was low but held a challenge, daring me to continue.

Under the moonlight, I saw that his dark hair looked ruffled, and his lips had pink smudges on them like he had just come from a heavy make-out session.

"Not in the slightest, asshole." My voice came out with a tad more bite than I intended and my body started to squirm under his heated gaze. He was a foot away, but it felt like I could feel his eyes touching my body, the intent behind them making my stomach flip.

I watched him like a hawk, taking in the way the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk or the way his eyes shone with amusement at the obvious way he was affecting me.

"That's the third time now," he said, his eyes burning with dangerous promise.

"Third time that what?" I asked, holding my ground. I knew he was getting closer to me, but I refused to back down.

He was directly in front of me now, and I was suddenly aware of how much larger he was than me, how much he towered over me.

"That you've called me an asshole. I don't think I like it." His voice was deliciously deep, and it traveled straight to my core.

I smirked, looking up at him through my lashes, hoping my eyes looked as defiant as I wanted them to. "It has a nice ring to it."

"You're pretty fucking mouthy."

He smelled like bourbon and sandalwood. It was intoxicating in a way that had me leaning in, just to smell it some more.

"Take away 'fucking mouthy' and you almost made a compliment," I whispered to his neck. Did he know that I had my hands on his chest?

"Don't make me mad, sweetheart."

My heart jumped at the mock endearment he murmured in my ear. Had he meant to place his hands on my waist?

"I'm shaking in my sneakers." I said sarcastically, but it wasn't a lie. I was shaking. It wasn't in fear or panic, but in excitement.

"Pretty bold coming from someone who just had a panic attack." His full, delectable lips were so close I wanted to lick them.

I flushed, hissing inwardly. "That's a low blow... " I paused for affect, "asshole."

Suddenly, he gripped my jaw, his hand wrapping around my chin and his hold on my waist strong but not enough to hurt. And my body liked it, practically sung for it.

"What's wrong? Too soon?"

I huffed a laugh in response, gripping his shirt in my hands. His eyes were dilated, and he ran his tongue over his canines. I shivered.

"I think," he said, his lips hovering mine, "you should be taught a lesson."

I cursed myself for not fighting against him. For letting him spread heat between my thighs. But that was only me trying to satisfy my pride, and the thrill of what would happen if I tested the limits were taking over my mind. I just couldn't bring myself to leave.

We had started a game now, and I was invested.

"You know what I think?" I asked him, raising my hand to his face and swiping my thumb roughly over his stained lips. He simply hummed in response, looking at my mouth. "I think, you should fuck me."

Fuck my pride.

And fuck my alcohol tolerance.