A Beautiful, Terrible Love by Lucky 97 (bearly read books TXT) 📕

chest, "I will be the most popular guy in school!"
This just went to show how naive I really was.
"I'll have you know," I huffed, "I am here with my boyfriend..." It was mostly true. Except for the boyfriend part, of course.
Wait.
Where's Peter?
Hurriedly, I looked around, my hair flying, urgency in my gaze. He wasn't near me at all... where had he gone?
I had just seen him about fifteen minutes ago, right before I got swept up into that addicting game to try and win the bunny. He had been right beside me, shaking his head at me in laughter as I decided I had to have that bunny. I guess I lost track of him then, focusing on the fluffy animal that delighted my heart.
I walked hurriedly around, peering into tents, looking into the ride lines, glancing at all the people around me. My heartbeat began racing, my eyes full of fright. I was alone.
This isolation is what forced me to search for him.
I raced to a shooting attraction, a thin, weedy girl standing beside the cash register. She didn't look up as I grew close; focusing on what I soon realized was her phone. Her fingers flew upon the keys, mashing them hurriedly, as if she was in a rush.
"Excuse me?" I politely said. She finally, after a long pause, raised her head.
"Yeah?" she asked, a heavy southern drawl in her long, drawn out words. With eyes of green and silver-blonde hair, she was fairly cute, though her extremely skinny form made me question her health.
"Did you see a tall man with tanned skin, chocolate eyes, and wearing a t-shirt and jeans?" I asked. When she didn't answer, recognition not coming to her, I added, "an incredibly hot one."
She perked up then, her eyes shining with brightness. I should have known to say that first. "Oh, him? I saw him pass by here about ten minutes ago towards that purple tent over there," she smiled, pointing at it. "He sure was fine," she murmured, looking over at the tent once more, as if he would suddenly emerge from it and sweep her up into his arms.
I tried to quell the tiny stabs of possessiveness, offering my thanks through gritted teeth. "I appreciate it," I forced a smile to my worried face. She ignored me, still lost in her thoughts.
"Fine..." she whispered as I walked away, letting me know what she was thinking about.
I edged to the purple tent, my short trek filled with purpose, yet with fear. What was he doing in there? I felt like I didn't want to know.
I forced the doubt away. Peter wouldn't ever do something... bad. He was the one constant in my life, the one person that never changed. Maybe the bathrooms were in the purple tent.
I plowed faster through the throng of people, heading towards my goal. My hair flew behind me, my face flushed from worry. I was almost there.
I didn't realize how big the tent was until I finally approached it.
It loomed before me, its stripes of purple and lavender, without the lights the other places had. Towering above my head, it truly was gigantic, a monster. The tent was freaky, almost like a haunted house, but in a circus style.
I took a deep breath, lifting the flap and slipping inside, my heartbeat pounding furiously in my chest.
Well, it certainly wasn't a bathroom.
Tables were scattered all through it, almost every seat filled. Women, all dressed provocatively, were lounging about, and flirting with the unattractive, but obviously rich men littering the area. You could tell they were well off by their clothes and face, well groomed in all aspects. In the corner there was a bar, a huge one, with about thirty barstools stretching from one end of it to the other. Handsome men were pouring the drinks, entertaining the men with stories and jokes.
Silence overtook everyone as they turned at my entrance, their eyes widening at my form. Even the women were staring, surprised to see a celebrity in such a place.
I felt very uncomfortable under their measuring gazes. Why would Peter enter this awful place? Why didn't the girl tell me this was a bar?
Suddenly chatter started back again, the excitement at my presence lost. Men continued to drink, flirting outrageously with the tempting women, some traveling out of the bar with a girl to do who-knows-what.
I had to find Peter and get us both out of this horror.
My eyes like searchlights, I frisked my gaze over the drunken guys, the intimidating women, the handsome workers, trying desperately to find him. Eventually, I saw a form hulking over the bar, in the far corner, despair in his slump.
I hurried over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. Slowly, he turned, his face weary and worn.
"Peter?" I questioned. He just looked at me, blankness in his features. A thin glass laid in his hands, filled with liquid, his eyes unfocused and blurry. I saw the desperateness in his features, yet the emotion he lacked.
Who was this man? And why did he look exactly like Peter?
The glass flew from his hand onto the floor, my hand causing the accident. Quickly, I grabbed his arm, forcing him upwards. He put up no resistance, no biting words to deliver. His chocolate eyes were deep and dark, hiding what was truly inside of them. I was afraid of this strange man. This was a side I had never seen before.
"We are leaving," I told him sharply, as loud as I could without screaming. The whole bar stared as I dragged him to the opening, some even cheering for me as I shoved him out. I guess they were still waiting for reason to come and pull them out of the terrible, sinful hole they were in.
I pulled him away from the crowd, away from the stares, his face still clouded. The night sky swallowed us up as we vanished into the bushes, into a small clearing. I released him here, his body swaying in the wind. He looked... strange. Expressionless.
"Why were you in there?" I probed, looking at him straight in the eye. As I did so, consciousness seemed to come to him, understanding lighting his features.
"I..." he stuttered, "had t-to get a d-drink," His lips parted in a pout, innocence in his face.
"How long have you been an alcoholic?" From what I could gather, he certainly seemed like one.
"About five years," he said, stuttering slowly evaporating. He frowned sadly at me as I contemplated this horrible piece of information.
He had been an alcoholic ever since I had gone into depression, after I had refused to be his girlfriend? How did he get a beer at thirteen?
I waved away my inquiries and focused on him. "This could hurt you, Peter," I said softly, my voice full of desperate pleading, "you need to stop, or you might be kicked off the football team."
The night seemed to grow darker with every dooming word I spoke.
His expression grew to be of fear. He grabbed my hand, nearly crushing it in his grip. "Please, Eve," he begged, "don't tell them. Please... please..." His eyes were full of sorrow. "I'm sorry for leaving you. I just had one of those urges. I... HAD to get a drink, or I thought I would die."
"Peter!" I exclaimed, "You are only eighteen!" How could he even get drinks? How could his addiction reach that level at his age?
He ignored my question, instead squeezing my hand so tightly it turned white. "Don't tell, Eve."
I ripped my hand away, looking to the stars, wondering just how much my life had changed in a few minutes. About ten minutes ago, I trusted Peter. I honestly liked him. In fact, I was wondering if he was even the true one for me. However, ten minutes had washed away any chance of romance, and even tore at our friendship.
Now I had nobody.
For the sake of old times, I attempted to calm him, no matter how badly I wished to punch him. "I'm not going to right now," I whispered, touching his shoulder, "but you have to stop. I will help you, Peter."
"You will?" he asked, the light finally returning, although something foreboding seemed to loom beneath the surface. He stepped closer, nervousness arising within me.
However, I could not show fear.
Standing my ground as he crepted closer, I continued. "Peter, you can solve everything!
“Just tell your parents, and they will help you recover also. You can fight this Peter!" Hope was laced through my voice, belief in my words. I believed that he could break free. Peter was strong.
Peter seemed to be affected, his hand shaking. "I... have never had someone believe in my before," he said softly, true sorrow in his expression. I felt a touch of pity, a hint of sympathy biting at me.
He smiled, his handsome, god-like face shining in the moonlight, his body lean and muscular. "Thank you, Eve," he thanked me, "you really are special."
Bringing his fingers to my face, he let them trail down my cheek, affection in his feather light touch. With his other hand, he held a strand of my soft hair in his large hands, stroking it softly. The normal Peter would never be so bold.
Time was suspended between us as he leaned in, his face within a hair's breadth of mine. I could smell the alcohol, though fading, on his breath. His closeness unnerved me, but somehow, I couldn't escape. He had caught me in a web, in a bind I couldn't possibly understand.
I couldn't mask my revulsion as he brought his beer stained lips to mine, forcing a kiss.
I knew he wasn't thinking clearly.
I knew he was one of my best friends.
But this? I... had a feeling this awful act would be hard for me to forgive.
He pressed closer to me, snaking an arm around my back, yanking me closer. His kiss grew deeper, scaring me immensely. I tried to wiggle away, but he was too strong, almost taking my movement as encouragement, forcing even more kisses down my collarbone, on my shoulder.
Please let it stop.
Please let the horror end.
Was I going to get raped here and now? By one of my very best friends? I closed my eyes, awaiting the worst. I truly, at this moment, discovered the danger of being drunk. Before, I had only read about it, it's destructive demeanor, how it implanted forbidden desires into your mind, causing you to lose control.
But now, one of my best friends was experiencing this horrible torture, and I finally understood.
There was a whoosh, a blur of movement I could spot through the crack in my eyelids. Peter's touch suddenly ceased, a grunt emitting as he fell onto the ground. Another pair of warm, comforting hands took Peter's place, holding my body close to the stranger.
Somehow, although this man truly was someone I didn't recognize through my very limited vision, I felt more comfortable with him than I did with Peter.
"I'll save you," a whisper erupted, close to my ear. I felt like I recognized that smooth, melodious voice. It seemed to bring complacency to my body, soothing the nerves that was previously spiked by Peter's kisses. Who was...
I was interrupted in my thoughts as another pair of lips crashed onto mine, urgency and longing in its deliverance.

Chapter 22

I immersed myself in him.
Delving myself into his soft embrace, I reveled in the feel of his sweet lips as they danced across mine. His shirt, silky and warm, brushed against me as I got closer to