Saturday, March 12, 2011

Fan Fiction: "It Happened That Night" (One-Shot), part 1





Disclaimer: The following is a fan fiction story, based on the Twilight series.  The characters belong entirely to Stephenie Meyer, and I have taken some liberties with them.  No copyright infringement is intended, either at present, or ever.

Note:  The beautiful banner for this story was created by Annamorphos, a twilighted.net member.  Thanks & kudos, Anna!!




The club was really hopping that Saturday night. The crowd was rowdier than usual, so the bouncers had their hands more than full. Lights skittered across jaded, drunken faces, in time to the wild gyrations of countless bodies. Darkness pounded with blaring sound. It felt like the guitar riffs began and ended in my stomach, along with the relentless, savage drums.

He was sitting at the bar, an untouched drink in front of him. I caught a glimpse of his face, intermittently lit by the pink and purple lights, as I tried to dance with Tom. 

I couldn't believe I had actually been asked to dance. I never engaged in any activity that would put anybody in danger of being injured. Nor did I enjoy being made fun of. Yet here I was, moving around on this packed dance floor, in Tom's capable hands. i had to admire the guy's patience. He didn't even complain once.  As he whirled me around, I caught another glimpse of that face at the bar. He was gazing indolently at the dancing crowd, but his eyes suddenly zeroed in on me. They stayed there briefly, then flitted away, and he turned his back on the dance floor. I sucked in my breath, stunned, and completely lost my concentration. I collided, hard, with Tom's chest.

"Hey, you all right?" he peered down at me, a worried look on his face, and steadied me with his big hands. I guess I must have given him the impression that I had seen a ghost. I looked up at him for a moment, embarrassed, then looked away, shaking my head slightly.

"I think I need to sit this one out. My head feels funny. Sorry, and thanks for the dance." I smiled weakly up at him. He was nice, really. He had even put up with my clumsy dance moves. But then I had seen him, and his eyes had connected with mine. Any interest I might have had in my dancing partner had abruptly evaporated.

"Sure, no problem." He shrugged, smiling. "Want me to get you a glass of water or something?"

I looked down. My cheeks were on fire. I felt sorry for the poor guy.

"No, thanks. I just need to sit down for a while...at the bar." Involuntarily, I looked in his direction, as my face continued to flame. Blushing so easily, as well as so fiercely, was the bane of my existence, along with my klutziness.
Tom glanced over at the bar, and, of course, saw him sitting there. Then he looked back at me, and frowned.

"You know that guy?" His voice had suddenly taken on an unmistakable note of hostility.

I couldn't bring my eyes up to his face. "Well, no, not really..." I stammered. Too late, I realized I should have lied about my reason for wanting to sit at the bar, instead of being taken back to my table, escorted, of course, by Tom.

"Oh, I see," he said, "you would like to get to know him, then."

I opened my mouth to say something, as I looked up at his face. It was set in stone, and he was glaring at me.

"Later, then," he said, as he took his hand off my arm. With that, he turned around, and promptly disappeared into the crowd.  Well, I couldn't blame him. Nothing could hurt a guy's ego more than having a girl he was getting to know show interest in another guy.  I bit my lower lip. Now I was feeling very guilty. Tom wasn't bad-looking, I scolded myself. And he was a nice guy, too. But...then I had seen that other guy, and, as they used to say - and maybe still do - in romance novels, time froze. That sounds very dorky, I know. And yet, that's what happened to me. Everything and everyone seemed to freeze. Even the stale, liquor-laden air froze. He became the only thing that I could see clearly, that seemed to pulse with vibrant life.

I walked slowly over to him.

As I approached, I saw him come out of his apparent reverie, and turn to watch me coming closer. His eyes were a peculiar shade of gold – warm butterscotch was the color that came to mind. They were pointedly staring at mine. I could not look away, but I did manage to take in the rest of his face. It was the most beautiful male face I had ever seen, with its strong jaw, sculpted nose, and dark, brooding eyebrows. Then I noticed how pale he looked, even in the club's semi-darkness. Shadows framed his eyes, giving him a very gloomy, even frightening air that should have repelled me immediately, but didn't.  His hair, gleaming bronze in the pulsating lights, contrasted sharply with his face. The hair was tousled, in an endearing sort of way. It invited me to comb my hands through it, in an attempt to straighten out its enchanting disarray.

Then I felt it- an unmistakable flow of blazing electricity in my gut. I had never felt such a thing before, but knew what it was. My body was automatically reacting to this living, beautiful sculpture before me.

I flowed into the seat next to him. That was incredible in itself. I never "flowed". Instead, I was always bumping into things. I did not take my eyes off his face as I crossed my legs, taking my little purse off my shoulder and laying it on the counter.

We said nothing for a few minutes, simply staring at each other. I suppose he was as surprised by my approach and helpless scrutiny as I was.

Then he spoke.

"You should get up just as quietly and quickly as you can, and leave." His voice was as beautiful as the rest of him. It held no hint of menace, and yet, I shivered.

"What...did you just say?" I laughed nervously. I couldn't possibly have heard right.

He closed his eyes, as if he were in pain, and brought one of his hands to his head, leaning on the counter. Again I noticed that he had not touched his drink. It appeared to be a Bloody Mary.

"Please!" This time it was unmistakable; he was hissing through his teeth. "You must leave, now! Don't ask any questions. Just go!"

"But why?" I was so shocked, I didn't know whether to take his blasted drink and throw it in his face, or just stomp away angrily.  Then he opened his eyes, and glared at me. A thrill of fear swept through my body, bringing me to my feet. I suddenly wanted to put as much distance between us as I could.

"All right, I'll go," I snapped, trying to hold on to some remnants of dignity. I grabbed my purse off the counter, and walked away, with the intention of not looking back.  Against my will, I did turn to look back at this strange man who had seemed so irresistible, and yet, had so rudely ordered me to leave.  He was still sitting at the bar, but now his face was in his hands, and he had completely turned away from the crowd. The bartender came by and asked him something. He shook his head vehemently.








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