Crave - Teresa Mummert Page 0,2

always threw killer parties on the weekends and I was in desperate need of forgetting myself in the bottom of a bottle. Fat drops of rain dotted the sidewalk as I trudged down the street lit only by sporadic street lights and shop signs. I took another drag as I made eye contact with the only other person in sight, my brain on high alert.

I’d seen him hanging out in this area for the last couple of weeks. He walked toward me, keeping my eyes locked with his gaze. God, he was hot. His dark hair was messy like someone had just raked their nails through it. Lucky girl. He passed by without a word and I wished I’d had the guts to say something. Anything.

Hunters always stood guard after the sun descended. It was the only way any of us could get a decent night’s sleep. But they were outlaws and wild by nature in their own right. Their trail of broken hearts tended to be just as long as their trail of bodies. Glancing over my shoulder, I couldn’t help but smile as I noticed him glancing back at me.

His mouth turned upward in a mischievous grin causing my stomach to flutter. I looked down at the sidewalk and began to walk faster, turning the corner down Church Street to Grayson’s apartment. I made my way up the back fire escape and knocked on his window three times before sliding it open and climbing inside.

The apartment was a sea of drunken misfits. I snaked my way through the living room to the kitchen where Grayson West sat at the table surrounded by his closest friends and miscellaneous scantily-clad women playing poker. His dirty blonde hair framed his bloodshot eyes, magnifying the intense blue of their centers. Girls flocked to his disheveled I don’t give a damn appearance. I couldn’t blame them. At one time, I was just as enthralled by his lack of motivation and moral compass. But the slacker routine wore thin when the world became a war zone.

“Classy,” I quipped, making sure not to look in his direction as I pulled open the fridge. I grabbed a bottle of liquor and beer.

Grayson and I had dated for three years in high school. We were the couple everyone envied. But as the world changed, so did I and I could never be that bubbly carefree girl I’d once been. I dropped out of school when Marcus died, just shy of earning my diploma. Things like education and relationships no longer felt relevant when the world was coming to its end. The minute I turned eighteen I got my own apartment, unable to be surrounded by the people I knew one day would all become victims.

I slammed the shot back and chased it with the beer, dulling the burn to my throat. I set the shot glass back onto the counter and refilled it, desperate to become numb. Taking a deep breath, I slammed another.

“Eva, take it easy,” Grayson called from across the room with a warning tone. I sat the shot glass down and refilled it again, refusing to listen to him. I needed to forget if even for one day. He had no idea how it felt to have to feel all of this, to not be able to shut it off and pretend people didn’t matter as he did. Grayson got up from his seat and came over to my side, putting his hand on mine, preventing me from drinking it.

“Oh, now you care about my feelings?” I didn’t try to hide the hostility in my voice, but I knew my anger was misplaced.

“Come on, Eva. You know I’ve always cared about you.” I let go of the shot glass, his hand still on mine, his eyes filled with what looked like pain and regret causing my heart to clench painfully in my chest. Grayson wasn’t to blame for our split, but it wasn’t easy to admit to myself that I’d been the one to break his heart.

“It’s been a bad day, Grayson.” I wouldn’t offer more of an explanation and I hoped he wouldn’t push me to.

“Come on,” He said, inclining his head toward his bedroom. “Let’s talk.” I turned back to my shot and swallowed it quickly, grabbing my beer off of the counter as he pulled me by my hand toward his room. He motioned for me to sit on his twin bed, sloppily covered in an old space movie comforter. I