[ cool something new // song is by good charlotte

warnings: language, mentions alcohol and clubs and sex, set after the breakup

concept: instead of moping around after the breakup, lewis goes out and tries to forget about logan.

lewis' point of view

this is short and sucky

stay safe,
lew. ]

—————

The lights are dizzying.

I'm lightheaded, but I don't know if it's from the alcohol or the pulsing lights or the pounding bass in the music. This was never my scene. It was more of... his type of place.

I shake my head and down another shot. I'm here to forget about him, not to think of him and be reminded of his stupidly perfect face.

I mostly mind my own business, at least until I'm pleasantly buzzed. It's then that I have enough confidence to walk out and make myself the center of attention, that liquid burning through my guts and giving me the strength and bravery to do this.

Dancing was never my forte, and it shows now. My movements are out of rhythm up until the hands find their way to my hips from behind, pulling me closer and guiding my every move.

I can already tell that this person towers over me, and through a cursory glance over my shoulder, I know he's not really my 'type'. His eyes are dark, blonde curls practically glowing in the strobe lighting. He's handsome, but it's not him.

Soon enough, the guy has me pressed against the wall in a secluded hallway, my hands tangled in and tugging on his hair as he's sucking bruises on my neck. It's a weird feeling, and for the first time tonight, I'm unsure if this is the right idea.

I push that thought aside in favor of pulling the guy's lips to mine again. "Wanna get outta here?" I ask between kisses, untangling my hands and running them down his chest.

"Wish I could. But I'm the designated driver," he replies, actually sounding somewhat remorseful.

I'm so desperate to distract myself that I murmur, "It's okay. We don't have to leave."

Really, the worst idea I've had is a quick fuck in the bathrooms. It's cliche and gross, not to mention uncomfortable as hell. And the worst part is that I'm still thinking about him.

But still, I leave, heading home alone to an empty house and nothing but my thoughts. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the cab's rearview mirror, and all I can say is:

I'm such a fucking mess.

——