Free On an Edge of Glass by Autumn Doughton Page B

Tiny beads of sweat glisten above his straight brow and trail down his cheek to his open mouth. 
    It’ s clear that he’s lost on stage—in a world of chords and rhythm and oblivion.  I find myself leaning forward, entranced by this new version of Ben.  Just once, he looks up and catches me staring at him.  Our gazes hold steady for a long moment before I tear my eyes away and let them fall to the ground, unfocused. 
    It is n’t a surprise that more than a few admiring girls, dressed in slutty Halloween attire, have collected toward the front.  I see them giggle behind their cupped hands and dart moon-eyed glances in Ben’s direction.  I think about how it would feel to gag those girls or kick them in their pretty faces.  Instead of resorting to violence, I drain my drink in one quick motion and glare threateningly at their backs. 
    All around me, people that I don’t know are laughing and tossing back drinks.  They shout at their friends and flirt and dance. 
    One unfortunate soul is puking over by the fence. 
    I look for my friends and spot Mark and Hal on the far side of the backyard engaged in a private conversation.  Ainsley’s standing in the middle of a cluster of girls and she’s laughing giddily.  Payton is perched on a chair taking a shot straight from a bottle of bourbon.  A small entourage cheers her on. 
    Apparently, our party is a rousing success, yet here I am, standing by myself in a corner freezing my butt off.  The alcohol is helping, but I’m still practically shivering with my legs and arms exposed to the cold night air.  I push myself away from the wall, about to defy Payton’s orders to stay in costume.  I have every intention of slipping inside to change into a pair of jeans and a sweater when something soft and grey and warm drops over my shoulders. 
    I look down.  It’s a thick, wooly scarf. 
                  “You looked cold,” an unfamiliar voice says.
                  I jerk my head around.  A guy, with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, looks me up and down shamelessly.  His eyes, I note immediately, are a startling shade of blue framed by a layer of thick black lashes.  My breath hitches.  There’s something about blue eyes. 
    His cropped light hair is gelled and mussed to excess.  He’s got that I-tried-hard-to-look-like-I-didn’t-try thing going on.
    His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s leaning against the back wall of the house.  He’s got on a leather jacket over a tight-fitting black tee and dark, stiff jeans.  No costume for this one.
                  “Thanks.”  I finger the scarf, wrapping it more snugly around my neck.  I smile at him questioningly. 
                  “I’m Drew,” he says, holding his hand out to me.
                  “Ellie,” I reply.
                  Drew doesn’t shake my hand when I give it to him.  Instead, he curls his fingers around mine and pulls me forward until my shoulder joint brushes his upper body. 
    “Sorry, what was that?” He asks against my ear.  
                  The music is loud and the crowd is rowdy, but I get the distinct impression that Drew heard my name and he’s just toying with me.  Normally, this is the type of move that would have me rolling my eyes and mentally practicing groin kicks.  But tonight, I find it vaguely amusing. 
                  “Ellie,” I repeat slowly, letting my fingers linger in his grasp. He smells faintly of beer and musky cologne.
                  “It’s nice to meet you Ellie.”  Drew steps back and brazenly surveys my body.  “You cute girls and your sexy dresses on Halloween…” 
    “Excuse me?” 
    He chuckles and raises one eyebrow.  “Not that I’m complaining at all.  I just meant that the weather doesn’t usually cooperate.”
                  I smile.  This guy is hot and intriguing.  Is it