Chapter 7
“Will!” You gasp, staring up at her in disbelief. She looks just like you remember her.
Well, the blood on her face is now replaced with glitter, and instead of the pale, exhausted look she wore last time, her cheeks are tinged with a flush of warmth, so that's new. But those deep blue eyes, her baggy clothes and tall frame, and that little amused smirk she wears as she looks down at you, those are all the same.
Also, tragically, she's still really hot, possibly even more so now.
You're as unprepared as the first time you met her, but as long as nobody gets shot this time, you like these circumstances much better. Her presence still sends a little thrill of nervousness through you, but the few drinks you already have in your system help smooth things out a bit.
You grin up at her, holding onto her arm and silently enjoying the way her body shields you from the rest of the crowd. You can feel your friends staring from behind you, but they don't interrupt, instead silently watching the interaction with rapt attention.
“What are you doing here?” You ask her, and then want to kick yourself for the stupid question. She's probably out enjoying the holiday’s with her friends, just like you are. The club is packed with people doing the exact same.
Or, you think belatedly, maybe she's here to kill someone.
“Getting plastered.” She responds bluntly, and honestly you can't really tell. Maybe it’s because you've never seen her in a normal, casual setting, but she doesn't seem any different from when you had first met her. Although while not technically intoxicated, suffering from a gunshot wound would probably make most people act a bit different to their normal selves. You wonder if she’s always like this, or if you're just developing a habit of seeing her in extremes.
“You don't seem it.” You tell her truthfully.
She smiles, and it's a beautiful thing. You try to ignore the fluttering in your stomach at the sight.
“Well,” She says, slipping her arm around you and pulling you closer. “If I was sober, I wouldn't tell you that I haven't been able to stop thinking of you. I wouldn't tell you that, when I saw you in the crowd just now, I thought I was just drunkenly seeing what I wanted so desperately to see. And I most definitely would not tell you that I got drunk tonight solely with the intention of finally getting you off my mind.”
You look down at her arms around you. “I guess it didn't work so well then, did it?”
She laughs, and you try to ignore how that makes you feel, too.
“Maybe I haven't drunk enough then?” She says, almost to herself.
At that, one of your friends takes the opportunity to pop up beside you, drink in hand. “I can help with that!” She says, offering it up to Williams with a mischievous smile.
Before she can take it though, struck by the same sudden impulse you had felt when you first asked to bind her wound, you snatch the drink, heart beating wildly in your chest. Glad for your heels which bring you closer to her face, you reach up to cup her jaw with your other hand.
Williams raises a brow at you, but lets you cradle her face. Maybe she is as drunk as she claims, because the look she’s giving you has bad intentions written all over it. Your heart races, and you escape the trap of her intense eye contact, instead focusing on the thin chain around her neck as it disappears into the collar of her shirt. Without the distraction or urgency of a bleeding wound this time, you’re acutely aware of the feeling of her skin beneath your fingers, of how intimate it feels, how easy it would be to replace them with your lips.
You have the brief thought that perhaps this is a bad idea, but then, you're a bit too drunk to care at the moment.
With a deep breath, you tilt her head back slightly. “Open, please.” You whisper, embarrassed at your boldness. Your friends make all manner of loudly inappropriate cheers in response.
Williams’ lips twist into an amused smile before parting obligingly for you. Carefully setting the glass against her bottom lip, you slowly pour the drink directly into her open mouth. You can feel her jaw move under your hand as she swallows, trying to avoid meeting the dangerous glint in her low lidded eyes as she stares at you, her gaze unwavering. You almost drop the glass.
When it's empty, she straightens, running her tongue across her teeth. “Well that was unexpected.” She says, and you can't tell whether she’s pleased or not. Your hand still cupping her face, you realize you're close enough to kiss. She pulls you closer, hands tightening on your waist, and you panic, dropping your hand and pulling away.
“I thought you wanted to forget me.” You whisper, and of all the things you might have wanted to say at this moment, that wasn't one of them.
Right now, she looks like she wants to do anything but that. And as much as you hate to admit it, it kind of scares you. She kind of scares you. As attractive as she is, it's a bit hard to forget she murdered someone right in front of you.
The intensity of her presence is both alluring and frightening, like standing too close to a high railing, and in the distracting loudness of the club, you’re not sure exactly what you want from her, not sure what she would do . You won't deny the excitement you felt when you turned around and saw her earlier, or your attraction to her, but ledges are only exhilarating while you're still standing on them, not so much when you're already falling. You're scared of what it would mean to kiss her, here, drunk and distracted, and then have her disappear without a trace again.
“If I was sober,” You whisper, not sure if she can even hear you, “I wouldn't have done that either.”
Williams tilts her head to the side and gazes at you, considering. “A night of unusual behavior from both of us then.” She says at last, pulling away.
You immediately regret it, wanting her close again. You like her body, like the solid presence she provides. That much is clear to you, even in your tipsy state. Unbidden, you recall what it felt like to sit cradled in her lap, her arms heavy around you.
Williams takes the glass from your frozen fingers before turning towards your friend. “Hey, sorry for drinking it all.” She gives you a sly glance and jerks her chin towards you. “Your friend here didn't seem like she wanted me to stop…” A wink, and then she’s turning back to your friend. “I’ll get you a new one, on me.”
She’s hardly even turned away towards the bar before your friends descend upon you, their eyes wide.
“Bitch –” Gasps one, grabbing your shoulders.
“–there’s no fucking way you didn't tell us she was that hot .” Says another, pulling you in the opposite direction to face her.
“I believe it was the first thing I mentioned actually.” You say distractedly, trying to follow Williams in the crowd with your eyes but you soon lose her.
“I can't believe she's a killer, she's too fit.” Says another sadly.
“This is literally the universe telling you that you have to fuck her.” Says the first, spinning you back to face her.
They all nod. “Seriously, what were the odds? You haveee to now.”
You glance again towards the direction of the bar and wonder if she'll even come back. Williams walked back into your life just as quickly as she first had, and you wonder if she’ll walk back out of it the same way.
“You’re better than me,” Says one of them, pulling your thoughts back to the present. “I’d have fucked her the first time. Right there, on that nasty ass store counter.”
“Eww.” You groan, knowing full well just how gross everything in that store was. You’re glad you quit, haven't missed it a day since. Your best memories of that place were, coincidentally, when she was there. Also, some of your worst memories. It had been an eventful last shift to be sure.
Another one nods. “You should have at least kissed her. I would have.”
You stare at her. “And since when do you like girls?!” You ask, incredulously.
She shrugs. “For her ? Since now.”
You all laugh, and honestly, you can't blame her. “Fair enough.”
“She’s obviously into you, and we all already know how down bad you are–although now that I’ve seen her, I completely get it–”
You snort. Perhaps you had mentioned Williams a tad bit too often in front of your friends.
She turns towards you, clasping your elbows. “I’m serious. Go for it. She wants you. You should have seen how she was looking at you.”
“She's drunk.” You say shrugging, staring at the floor “It's easy to want anyone when you're drunk.” The truth is, it’s exactly what you want to hear, which is why you can't act on it. “What if we regret it?”
“Well, then that's a problem for sober you, still–”
“Excuse me miss–” A man appears at your side and you scream.
He stares at you awkwardly, obviously taken aback by that reaction, before collecting himself and continuing. “Uh–well, I saw you dancing earlier and I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re proper fit.” He grins at you, and you can tell that he's absolutely wasted. “I thought I should warn you, I saw that girl that you were talking with earlier. The bitch is crazy. Best to steer clear of someone like that.”
You frown. You find men off putting enough as it is, hearing one calling any girl a bitch doesn't help. Especially Will. He doesn't seem to notice though, shuffling closer and you get hit with a wave of nauseating cologne, sweat, and alcohol. You wrinkle your nose.
“Let me buy you a drink. I’ll make sure she doesn't bother you anymore.” He says finally, smug and satisfied, as if you've already agreed.
You blink at him.
Your friend arches a brow at him in response. “Mate. That is a whole lesbian right there.” She says, jerking a thumb at you. “Be so for real right now.”
He stares at you, uncomprehending, before shaking his head. “That's what all you girls say nowadays. Let me chat to you, I promise I’ll change your mind.” He moves forward reaching for you, and you're about to scream again before one of your friends shoves him back. Ironically, she’s also the shortest among all of you, but she crosses her arms and stares him down.
Nothing like a short baddie , you think affectionately.
“How about no?” She says, disgust clear in her voice.
He opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by a hand clamping down on his shoulder. A shorter girl with shaggy brown hair and bangs appears from behind him. “Right.” She says without preamble. “So, I saw you chatting to this very nice looking lady.” She shoots you an appreciative glance before turning back to the man. “Thing is, my friend–and you've met her already; blonde hair, tall, generally rather annoying?” The girl supplies.
The man stiffens but all you can think is, she knows Will . You try not to think about their relationship.
You don't try very hard though, immediately wondering if they’re together, how they know each other, if you've been delusional this whole time.
“You can tell your friend to go see a fucking therapist.” He spits out, shrugging out of her grip, or at least he tries to. She holds on. “Yeah. She could probably use one.” The girl replies with a shrug. “Thing is, I believe she already gave you a suggestion earlier tonight. You can call me your fucking fairy godmother, because I’m here to make sure she doesn't follow through with it. My girl likes this club and I’d hate for her to have to leave early.”
My girl. Your heart drops. Never trust a flirty masc.
The man eyes her warily. “The Asian bitc–chick?”
Wait what?
The girl's answering smile is sharp as knives. “Nice save.” She leans in closer to whisper something that you don't catch, but the man visibly pales in response. She points off into the crowd, and you all follow the direction of her finger to see Williams, staring at him over the rim of a glass as she leans against the bar. She looks perfectly calm, almost bored, and gives the man a little wave. He glares at her. Then she pushes off, making her way towards you all.
“Decide quickly what you want to do next.” The girl tells him. You see the man ball his fists, lip curling as his eyes dart between Williams and the girl. “All you fucking lesbians are crazy.” He says at last, jerking out of her grip and disappearing into the crowd. “Well that was homophobic.” The girl says, blinking. “At least I think.” She shrugs.
Williams appears at your side a moment later and passes the drink to your friend. “Wasn't sure exactly what you had ordered, so I had the bartender freestyle. Hope you like it.” She turns to the girl who reaches out for a fist bump. “Honestly, we should have just put that one down anyway. Would have been a bit of community service.”
The other girl nods, considering. “He almost called Kai-Ming a bitch. Were you thinking blade or bullet?”
You all stare at them confused, until you remember who’s standing in front of you. “Wait, are you going to kill him?!”
“What’s it matter to you?” The girl asks. “Who even are you?” She turns to Williams. “You didn't tell me about her.”
Williams shrugs. “You should probably get back to Kai-Ming.” She says evasively.
The girl considers this, glancing over her shoulder into the crowd. “You should leave then. He'll probably come back with some dim-witted friends and then we really will have to kill them.” She says this calmly, as if talking about the weather, before shrugging, giving you one last inquisitive glance and disappearing back into the throng of bodies.
“I don't feel like drinking anymore.” Williams then announces to no one in particular. Your friends have just seemed to finally realize they've met a pair of killers. It's silent for a moment before one of them speaks up.
“Williams, did you know that my friend here makes an excellent pineapple and cranberry refresher? Alcohol free, and it makes things really sweet, if you know what I mean.” She says with a wink.
You drop your face into your hands, embarrassed at her insinuations. Apparently discussion about potential murder isn't enough to dampen her spirts, or her desire to get you laid. It's kind of sweet actually.
Williams turns to you and raises a brow, amused. “Actually, there is something I need you to do for me. Join me outside for a sec?”
Before you can even respond, your friends are pushing you towards her and you have to catch yourself on her arm so you don't trip. “Have funnnn!” One yells. You turn to respond and see two of them high fiving before making a scissoring motion with their hands. “Go lesbians!”