If he thought he was obsessed before he didn’t know the true meaning of obsession.

He had to see her again, and he didn’t care how horrible that sounded considering the fact that Jess was sitting beside him at the moment; he had to see her. And he hoped deeply that she’d decided to take him up on his invitation and meet them at the bar tonight. “As a way of showing my appreciation,” he had said, when they both knew it was just an excuse… although telling her she could bring Isabel was his attempt at putting up a front.

She hadn’t given him a definite answer, throughout the whole encounter she’d seemed hesitant, but didn’t she feel it to? Fate bringing them together no matter what they did to distance themselves from each other?

Jess put her hand on his thigh, bringing him back to the situation at hand: waiting for Michelle to arrive. And Trace and Delilah. “You told them Long Island right?”

He took a drink of his rum on the rocks and scanned the bar inconspicuously before turning his attention back to her. “Yeah. She said she’d be late though. She had to pick up someone. And you know Trace is never on time.”

Jess nodded, and focused on the dance floor. All of his coworkers were out doing the electric slide. They’d been here for an hour already and after a long day of work she was beginning to feel exhausted. The martini she was babysitting, that just so happened to be her third, wasn’t helping. Maybe if she danced? She put down her drink and grabbed his hand.

He shook his head. “I can’t. What if they come? I want them to be able to find us.”

“That’s what cell phones are for.”

He motioned to his cup. “I want to finish my drink.”

She smiled, and tugged his arm playfully. “I’ll buy you another one.”

But he didn‘t budge. “No, I think I should stay.”

He felt bad about the disappointment that crossed her face, but it was Greta that he was worried he might lose. Maybe she’d walk in, miss him because he was on the dance floor, and leave. If she came that meant that the note was irrelevant; and he couldn’t blow his chance.

He took another sip of his drink and re-scanned the bar.

Not even ten minutes later, entering from the left, he saw Trace (finally), Delilah, Michelle (finally), and a tall light skinned dude. The person she had to pick up?

For as long as he could remember Michelle was single. Was this her date, a friend, or a cousin twice removed? He didn’t know why he felt so curious, so taken aback by this, but judging by this dude’s swag Justin knew he was not going to like this fucker.

“You guys made it!” he called, as Trace and Delilah settled around him.

Trace rolled his eyes. “So much fucking traffic.”

Delilah nodded equally irritated, “Yeah, getting here from downtown was insane,” and motioned for the bartender.

A cute little thing, with long wavy hair, big hazel eyes, and a butterfly tat on her left breast… the bartender was currently being hit on by another customer. She acknowledged Delilah with a slight wave as if to say, ‘I‘ll be right with you,’ but Delilah knew it would be awhile, and all the other bartenders were preoccupied too.

She turned back to the small group and followed in suit of Justin and Trace, focusing on Michelle’s eye candy. He was super hot! But seemed cocky. Definitely a heartbreaker.

Michelle knew they were waiting for her to introduce her man-friend, but she was never one for PA (or PDA for that matter)… there was something about having her business all out in the open that made her uncomfortable; hesitantly she pulled her companion forward. “Everyone…” However, in spite of her unease she couldn’t help but smile. “This is my boyfriend.”

He nodded at them, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Hey.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed. At least shake my hand, punk. But he didn’t say anything, just took a long drink of his rum.

Trace smirked, “Hey,” thinking the same thing as his best friend.

Delilah smiled politely. Ick, rude much?

Michelle squeezed her boyfriend’s hand in hopes of releasing her nervous energy. So much for a proper introduction. Everyone was so stiff, like they were so uninterested in each other that they couldn’t even be bothered to learn each other‘s names. Happy birthday to me.

This was going to be a long night.

***

Last call for alcohol. Everyone felt amazing, ecstatic beyond belief, drunk, drunk, and more drunk. Even Jess felt good, the dancing had gotten the vodka actively flowing through her veins so that she was far from feeling tired; and Justin felt relaxed, his mind on the events at hand, rather than on Greta (who by the way, hadn‘t come). Michelle felt comfortable being there with her boyfriend; the awkward stranger tension was gone. And Trace, who could sometimes be an aggressive drunk and had almost started a fight with a guy in the restroom, was calm, too busy getting down on the dance floor; Delilah was almost having a hard time keeping up. The formula for having a successful twenty-sixth birthday being: booze plus music plus friends equals good time. Michelle felt lucky to have all of these people in her life.

She usually had a hard time when it came to having true friends. Her extremely good looks made girls jealous and therefore backstabbers, whereas all her guy “friends” just wanted to be her fuck buddy.

She turned to the man that she now called her boyfriend and held him close, grinding into him Dirty Dancing style. How long had it been since she’d been in a serious relationship? Since a guy had made her feel special the way that he did?

It was like the premise of a romantic comedy, the way they came to be. He’d pursued her---despite all her of hard-to-get attempts---and seen right through her, winning her over with his cunning persistence. No guy had ever worked so hard to get her, or looked so fucking hot while doing so, he deserved a chance.

She opened her mouth to thank him for being so awesome, and to tell him how happy she was, when it all came to a screeching halt.

“Alec?”

The look on his face told Michelle that he knew the women that had just said his name.

His mouth fell open but he was speechless.

“Oh my God…” The woman turned to who Michelle presumed to be her friend, looking as though she was fighting back tears.

Justin, who was nearby dancing with Jess, stopped immediately. It was Greta, and Isabel, and this was Alec. Michelle’s “boyfriend.” Greta’s boyfriend. He couldn’t be happy to see her (though she’d come after all!), nor could he admire how amazing she looked in that low cut halter, the distress on her face was too gut-wrenching.

Michelle was pretty sure she knew what was going on, her eyes flittering between Alec and this woman. Was this the part where she slapped him? Where she refused to acknowledge the obvious truth and went Jerry Springer on the bitch, rather than dealt with him? Or should she apologize for being with him, although she had no idea that he was already seeing someone? She was hot with liquor, embarrassment, disbelief, and anger.

“You bastard!” The other woman, the friend, yelled at Alec.

Justin wanted to jump in and calm Isabel, punch this Alec prick in the face, and ultimately make sure that Greta was okay but he couldn’t acknowledge the fact that they knew each other. Not with Jess here. That would be too much to explain, it would only add more fuel to this already heavily conflicted fire. He watched on with everyone else.

Alec reached for Greta.

“Don’t touch me! If you touch me I’ll lose it, I swear to God… just don’t fucking touch me.” She looked at Michelle. “Nice necklace by the way. It’s… gorgeous. I always wished I could afford something as nice as Tiffany and Company.”

Michelle’s hand instantly went to her neck. She’d bought it with her first paycheck, her gift to herself for finally getting a job that would support her and keep her out of her father’s house. She felt so awful, she could hardly muster the thank you that escaped her lips. There was just so much she wanted to say right now.

Alec reached for Greta again successfully grabbing her by the shoulders. “Just listen to me…”

But Isabel shoved him away. “She told you not to touch her!” Then she pulled Greta away and into the crowd before any of them could see her cry.

Alec looked back to see all of Michelle’s friends staring at him. “I’m…” He shook his head, helplessly. She looked so heartbroken. “Michelle, I’m sorry.”

But his apology was no match for Trace, who bellowed in a drunken rage, “Fuck you and fuck your lame ass ‘sorry’ you pretty boy looking bitch! I knew your ass was scandalous you fucking dick!” He probably wouldn’t remember doing this in the morning but before anyone could stop him, he lunged at Alec and punched him in the face.

If you keep obsessing over Greta, this will be you. It was a fleeting thought before Justin rushed in to pull his best friend back.