The cold metal of the Zippo lighter laid heavy in my hands, like a weight pulling me. I flipped the top, closed it, relishing the weight and the power. In a moment, I flipped the top again, struck the flint, and watched the flame glow in the dark of night. It danced to its own rhythm, moving with the wind of the cool night air, exactly like life. One small gust in the wrong direction and one’s cards of life fall in places they didn’t anticipate.

Holding the key to that was an energy I’d never get tired of.

Life was a game like that. The goal was to be successful however an individual defined it. Except life was a cruel bitch who turned on you at the drop of a hat, sending everything spiraling out of control. I remembered a time when I was young and felt safe, secure, and like nothing could touch me. Then it all crashed around me. I would never allow myself to feel that way again.

Emptiness surrounded me in the alley behind Scooners Bar, which was disturbingly quiet as well. For a happening place inside, outside was the complete opposite.

Bringing the flame to my face, I touched it to the end of my cigarette and watched the flame grow. On a deep inhale, I lit the cancer stick letting the poison fill my lungs, giving me a roaring dose of nicotine. Exhaling out of my nose, the smoke burned the fine hairs as it found freedom in the night air.

Freedom was a funny thing.

America, land of the free because of the brave.

I had lived in this great nation my entire worthless existence, and freedom was not at all what I felt. But it had nothing to do with where I lived.

It was simply who the fuck I was.

A man trapped.

A soul destroyed.

A damaged being.

I was all of those things and so much more.

The sound of laughter brought me out of my negative haze.

The noise was almost melodic as I looked up to see her. Blonde hair came down her back in long waves glowing under the street lights like a halo. She lifted her head and her blue eyes met mine.

Sealed.

Nothing existed for the moment.

I wasn’t Paxton Williams, the man with a past dark as midnight. She wasn’t Laurel Conrad, the one woman who always seemed to be exactly where I needed her even when I wanted her gone.

The pull between us was too strong for even me. While I wouldn’t cross the lines that separated us and our worlds, I simply couldn’t stay away.

My body moved of its own accord as I made my way to her. Stopping in front of her, she gasped in shock. Her chest heaved in the confines of the strapless dress as she drank me in.

“Pax,” she greeted on a hushed whisper that seemed to flow in the wind.

“Angel,” I replied, watching her eyes and looking deep into them. Home. She was home.

“We’ll ummm be over at the car, Laurel,” her friend, Tatum, told her, to which Laurel’s gaze never left mine as she waved them on.

“I’ll get her home,” I told her friends.

She shook her head, breaking our trance. I wondered for a moment if she got a thrill in defying me.

I took a drag from my cigarette before tossing it to the concrete sidewalk beneath us. Blowing smoke directly in her face, I get her attention back on me where I wanted it, needed it, and demanded it.

“Paxton, I should go.” Her words were so quiet, and I knew she didn’t mean a damn word of it.

The music from the club sounded out to the street with the doors now opening and closing as more people left. Reaching out, I pulled her against me. Her soft curves touched me everywhere, her breasts poking my chest. Moving us to the music, Laurel relaxed into me. I could smell the alcohol on her and knew I was pushing the limit.

I didn’t give a fuck.

Laurel Conrad was in my arms. I wouldn’t waste a single minute.

Dropping my head, I crashed my lips to hers taking what I needed from her. In a forceful kiss, she soothed my black bottomless soul simply by being connected to her. In a split second, she was compliant and soft under me, giving me her total surrender.

I relished the power.

Our tongues danced as our bodies swayed in the night air. She tasted of rum and pineapple juice while it mixed with my cigarette bursting against my tongue.

I wanted more.

She gave.

I took.

We danced.

Until she pulled away.

With the glow of the street lights, her eyes met mine and the regret was there.

“Pax, I can’t.”

The words sliced me deep, cutting open an old wound like every fucking time she said them.

“Laurel, give fuckin’ in.”

She could only gaze at me wide-eyed, the want and need shining brightly in them. I could read Laurel Conrad like a fucking book. Page by page, I knew her from cover to cover. Her words might deny me, but her body, her mind, and her soul craved me.

“Your body wants me. Your mind is wound too tight. Let me loosen you up,” I stated, knowing she wanted me as much as I wanted to sink deep inside of her.

“Pax, you can’t give me what I need.”

I nodded at the crushing words that were completely true. “You’re right, I can’t and I won’t.” My last words were the death blow to any hope for a change. I was incapable of giving in and making concessions. This left us at the same standstill. One where I wouldn’t give in.

The spell between us was broken once again as she turned and rushed away, even slipping out of her over-priced designer heels and leaving them on the concrete in front of me.

“Laurel, your shoes,” I called out as she kept her back to me and rushed to catch up to her friends.

“Keep them,” she yelled back while keeping about her task of running from me. She never looked over her shoulder. Not even one last glance.

I let the laugh escape me. Oh Laurel, why couldn’t she see? I wouldn’t let her get away again. I might choose to refuse her, but I wouldn’t be without her.

“You can run but you can’t hide.” She was mine, and it was about damn time she opened her damn mind to it.