Blaise tipped his drink to his lips but didn’t take in any of the bubbly liquid. Alcohol and the buzz that came with it held little appeal to him. Losing control wasn’t his idea of fun. He watched as Ella talked to the small group of women that stood around her. She laughed, lifting up her foot slightly so they could get a better look at the electric-pink stilettos she was wearing. The dress was sleeveless, showing off rough discolored patches of skin, the flesh on the upper portion of her left arm obscured completely by the marks. She seemed unconcerned, making grand, sweeping gestures as she talked. He noticed that while no one looked at her with disdain, they did stand at a distance. He wondered if the scars were to blame. Ella didn’t seem to care either way. She was bubbly, confident. She was smiling, something he didn’t know if he’d ever seen her do, not in a genuine way. But then, she didn’t like him very much. Something he should be used to by now. He set his drink on the bar and wove through the crowded club.
