The crowd was rich adults in suits and black dresses for the most part, aside from a few young college students drinking their problems away.
Brandon made his way through the warm bodies watching beautiful human faces hidden makeup, and to order a drink.
They are very hard to leave. Once you set up a specific routine, whether it is healthy or unhealthy, you wouldn't be able to quit.
And silently getting drunk every night was Brandon's habit.
On the other side of the bar, Gabrielle leaned on the bar, her dirty blonde hair lying over one shoulder. She held her drink up and lolled her head to one side pushing out her red lips just a little.
She wasn't completely drunk but she liked to give the impression that she was, imitating Hollywood actresses of the few movies she watched.
The bar tender was there to take her order, his eyes dropping momentarily to her low cut neckline. Gabrielle twiddled her hair in a seemingly absent minded way and giggled girlishly before ordering a Barcadi Breezer.
Why not take risks and do everything she's never done before?
Why not get drunk and hook up with a stranger then run with her bra in hand and her dress almost falling to her knees?
Why not do the things any girl her age is doing?
Shouldn't she be enjoying being a nineteen-year-old and fall in love for one night?
Oliver, her sister's fiancé's words filled her almost drunk mind and she nodded in agreement to his every word replaying in her head.
That was why she was there, that was why she had paid for an expensive makeover and that was why she was sitting out of her comfort zone.
A man took the stool next to her and she fixed him with a look that would make any guy other than Brandon Anderson shrivel.
He met her gaze with a smile of one who knows the upper hand is his and lighted up a cigarette.
Gabrielle folded one leg over the other, dangling her newly bought heels and showing more leg. Yet, her face stayed abolish disinterested.
He smashed his cigarette, his eyes running her body. He gave a slight smile before outstretching his muscular arm and reached for her hand.
"May I be the honored one to accompany you to the dance floor?" He asked earning a shy giggle.
She took in his appearance. Enchanted, well built and of course intimidating. The smell of dominance and arrogance could be felt just by looking at his structure.
Or maybe that was the dark scented perfume he was wearing doing its work.
She looked down at her heels then stared at his smoke grey eyes. Inexplicable feelings were mixed inside of hers as she could easily see the sexual desire burning inside of his.
"I don't like dancing."
"You can't judge yet," he smiled dragging her between the couples dancing and tightening his grip on her hand every once in a while.
His hand wrapped around her small waist and resting on her naked back, feeling the little dimples nobody ever knew she had.
Their bodies moved closer with every beat the band played. It was a slow mash-up of rock and classical music. One of the few kinds Brandon enjoyed.
"I never had the chance to ask about your name," his tongue seductively brushed the lip ring he had in the corner of his mouth before forming a smile.
Giggling, she said, "Gabrielle Roseline."
"Brandon Anderson," he replied.
"Cute," she complimented following his moves to not look out of place.
"I meant your name."
"Thank you two times," he gave another warm smile watching her shake her head in embarrassment.
"Attached?" She asked and he faked a thinking face before answering, "not yet."
"Surprising," he rose his eyebrows in an impressed way.
"Hmm," she fought the smile that was pushing through her lips.
"Interested?" He asked
"Leaving?" He asked
"Now?" She yelled as the music got louder and he yelled back, "yes!" dragging her behind him outside the bar.
How ridiculous it was, the way she pushed away everyone who tried to approach her for the past nineteen years and the fact that she is leaving a hotel bar with a sexy stranger right now.
"Where are you taking me?" Gabrielle asked struggling to follow Brandon's fast pace.
"Somewhere comfortable," he grinned glancing back at her, secretly admiring her clumsy run.
They climbed the stairs in silence, aside from Gabrielle's heavy breath and the clicking sound of her heels.
"You're not sporty at all," he teased, finally marching slowly letting her take a great amount of oxygen to take back what she lost.
"Not when I'm wearing these," she said holding one shoe up and bending over to take off the other one. She's only a few rooms away to get to her room anyway.
Brandon let out an almost girly giggle and nervously brushed the tip of his nose, "come in?"
They were on the third floor in front of a room. A room that she guessed was his.
320, that was the room's number.
She opened her mouth to refuse but the nagging voice in the back of her head kept pushing her forward.
Isn't that what you wished for minutes ago? Isn't that what you want anyway?
What are you going to do when you refuse this handsome man's invitation? Stay home and cry over crappy romantic movies?
Why not be the heroine of that crappy romantic movie?
"Zoning out?" Brandon said moving his hand in front of her blank expression. She simply shook her head and whispered a yes.
He offered his hand to her once again and she took it, and for a second it seemed like a fairytale.
As if she were a lost Disney princess and he was prince charming.
And like every Disney movie, there's a start and there's a happy ending. Sadly, Gabrielle and Brandon never knew they were still living the beginning.
Or maybe Brandon did...