His mouth was twisted into a smirk, with one hand gripping his drink and the other by his side, tantalizing me.

“You’re not the one I came here for, you know.” He chuckles softly, his eyes meeting mine intensely. I can't hold his gaze longer than a second, and immediately find my eyes lowering to the floor. I feel weak around him, and I'm not sure why.

I feel his hand that was once laid by his side slowly inching its way from my back to around my waist. I feel him pulling me into his space, and my waist is now touching his. My cheeks are starting to turn a soft pink.

“I suppose a charity project could have its own benefits.” His voice is teasing and light; a stark difference to the somberness and embarrassment I am feeling from his words.

“Girls like you tend to be more fun to break, anyways.” His eyes meet mine again, and I find myself quickly lowering my gaze to the floor once again, unable to utter a word.

He starts guiding me through the bar with his hand on my waist. This bar isn't the typical hole-in-the-wall; it has an air of affluence to it. Instead of empty beer bottles glued together to make a cheap chandelier, the pendant lights above the bar are crystal and glittering. The people around are all dressed to impress, and the smell of expensive cologne and exotic perfumes fill the bar.

I follow him through the bar meekly, not saying a word with my head hung low to the floor. I know that I look ridiculous and defeated, but something about him just makes my heart skip a beat - and turning away an opportunity like this could be detrimental.

He stops by a group of four - two men, two women.

“Just stopping by before I make my way outside.” His hand abruptly leaves my waist. I follow his hand with my gaze, seeing it slide from one of the woman's back to her waist, leaving me feeling partially abandoned in this new group of five.

The woman he has by the waist seems to almost melt into him - it's clear they have a past together. She looks up at him and I see his eyes sparkle faintly, and he nuzzles his mouth against her neck. She sighs, and suddenly I can feel her gaze focus on me. She doesn't say anything though - instead, she gives him a hot and heavy kiss on his lips, and then looks at me again after she pulls away. Her eyes aren't leaving mine this time, though, and I'm forced to continue staring or otherwise admit defeat.

She has on a red dress that sparkles under the lights. It's tight to her waist, and her lips match her dress perfectly. Her hair is a dark brown with lighter auburn highlights throughout, and her body was clearly built through hard work and perseverance at the gym. Basically, she's everything I'm not, and she and him know that well.

She eventually concedes and continues on the conversation with the other couple, with him still hanging onto her waist. He does finally look at me though, and I know my eyes must be pleading for attention because he rolls his eyes at me, gives the woman a final peck on the cheek, and then grabs my wrist and pulls me towards the entrance door of the bar.

I brush by people as he has me by the wrist. The music is growing fainter as he drags me past the two entrance doors that lead to fresh air.

Once outside, he gives a long sigh and lights up a cigarette. I keep my eyes on the ground, not knowing where I stand with him.

“What do you want from me?” I can't stop myself from asking, no matter how ugly or crass it sounds.

He takes a puff from his cigarette, and chuckles. His eyes don't meet mine - instead, they are looking straight ahead, almost dazed.

“From you?” He looks me up and down. “Nothing. There's nothing I want from you that I can't get better elsewhere.” He says this without chuckling this time, and for some reason that makes it hit harder. He hits another puff from his cigarette.

I gulp and try to compose myself, but I know that it doesn't matter; I feel out of place, and so I will inevitably look out of place, too. I gather my thoughts for a few seconds in silence.

“Then why am I here?” My voice is shy and timid, almost like a child confessing a sin to their priest.

He finally meets my eyes directly again. “Like I said, charity project.” I keep my eyes steady, holding his gaze as much as he holds mine, hoping my faux pas would keep him engaged.

“A charity project?” I make sure I sound more innocent than usual, hoping I can play this game with him.

“Do you need a dictionary definition of that term?” His tone is arrogant, and he types something on his phone with his free hand. “Charity project; as known as a humanitarian initiative, a philanthropic effort, a nonprofit venture.” He flicks his cigarette butt at me, and it lands next to my open-toed heels.

“Are you implying that I am a charity project for you?” My voice can't help but show my discomfort and disbelief. His finger is below my chin, and he presses it upwards to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

“I like to believe everyone has a purpose in life.” He keeps his eyes locked on mine, and I feel his hand moving towards my waist again. “Or maybe, rather, I like to believe every woman has a use; even looking as you do.” His eyes look me up and down again, and I can feel myself wanting to shrink into a puddle on the floor.

Before I can find my footing and gather my thoughts to respond, his hand that has slyly been making its way towards my waist is now gripping me, forcing me to stay still against his body, and not allowing me to move without his guidance.

“Follow me, charity project. We have a lot of work to do.” His mouth is against my ear, giving me shivers. He forcefully pulls me by the waist, walking me through the dark parking lot as he finds his way towards his car.

I'm following as he has me by the waist, and the lights are getting dimmer and dimmer as he continues to walk me into the darkness ahead.