by Sage, Aubrey
“Yeah, after you left the school, he just came up to me and apologized one day. I accepted his apology, but then he started making small talk whenever he had the chance. A few months ago he had the gall asked me out.”
“Did you go out with him? What about Sam?”
“C’mon, you know Sam was just dating him to make you jealous. She broke up with him as soon as you went to UCLA. And no, I didn’t want anything to do with him. I don’t date football players.”
“You don’t date football players? Whaaaaaat?”
“Too big, too aggressive. I prefer the nice guys. Maybe I’ll find me an artist or someone like that.” And too sought after also, I thought. If I dated an athlete, there’s no way that he would be faithful.
Mitch rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess it’s good choice for you. I know football players, and they will just want to get in your pants.”
Mitch turned a corner and pull into a large, packed parking lot in front of a huge, industrial building with a sign that read ‘Revolution’. Outside was a line with at least 50 people, all dressed to impress and all looking quite a bit older than me, waiting to get inside. “You ready for this?” he asked.
“I think so.” My heart raced with excitement and a little bit of anxiety. I had no idea what to expect, but I was ready to dance my ass off.
Mitch parked the car, and we joined at the end of the line. When we arrived to the entrance 15 minutes later, a huge bouncer wearing a tuxedo was frisking people but just shook Mitch’s hand and waved him through while another one was asking me for ID.
“She’s with me,” Mitch said to the other bouncer, and the other man nodded and motioned that I could pass. When we were entering, I noticed several signs that said “21+ Only”, so I felt like I was walking into a forbidden garden of sorts, making it all that much more exciting.
Inside was dark and purple lights strobed all over the room while hundreds upon hundreds of people were in the middle of the dance floor grooving wildly to hip techno music. The intensity of the sound was deafening, and while I had felt the buzz of Mitch’s Ferrari between my legs, the music in the club was rattling my soul. The smell of sweat and alcohol filled the air, and while it should’ve disgusted me, it somehow made me feel even more ready to rock.
“Let’s go get something to drink,” Mitch yelled over the music. He had to put his mouth directly up my ear for me to hear him.
I nodded.
I followed Mitch through the mass of people. Women wearing almost nothing were pushing their ass into men’s crotches, one couple was slow dancing although a clearly fast song was playing, and one man whom I’m certain was gay was on the floor popping his butt into the air. I had never seen anything like it. We arrived at a large bar that was being manned by several bartenders. I awed internally at the hundreds of different liquors behind the bar, sparkling every time the strobe lights passed by.
“I’ll have a long island,” Mitch said to one of the men behind the bar.
“The Wrecker!” The bartender wailed and threw his hand up for a high five. “Nice to see you here tonight.”
Mitch fived the guy and turned to me to ask what I wanted.
“Umm… I don’t know,” I screamed over the blasting music. “Do they have fruit punch?”
“Fruit punch?” Mitch asked, his lips warped with confusion. “This isn’t the type of place for fruit punch.”
“But I’ve only drank alcohol a couple times when I was having a slumber party at Kate Mitchalson’s house with–“
Mitch turned around, dismissing my protests, and leaned into the bartender. “Two long islands.” He held up two fingers to make sure that the bartender knew exactly what he was saying. Another bartender, a female, eyed me suspiciously, and I tried my best not to make eye contact.
I leaned in to Mitch’s shoulder. “Long Island has alcohol in it, right?”
“Of course it does,” He chirped.
“Are you sure that’s okay? I’m not 21 yet.”
“It’s your graduation night. Relax.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I was really liking the new Mitch. A couple years ago, before his accident, I had never seen him drink. Granted he was underage at that time, but he played by the rules, and I rarely had seen him take risks. Now, he was a risk taker, he had a seedy side, and while some of his risks were a little over-the-top, the new edge added a whole new layer to his personality.
While we were waiting for drinks, a man slid up to the bar beside me and called out to the bartender. His shirt had a few buttons undone at the top, showing a little too much chest, and his dark brown hair was slicked with hair gel. I overheard him order a mojito, and after placing his order, he glanced at me briefly, moved his eyes away, then turned his whole body towards me once more.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked. He had a strong French accent and a gleaming white smile. It immediately cancelled out the tackiness of his unbuttoned shirt.
“Pretty good, thank you.” I smiled back and flipped a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Are you here alone?”
“No, I’m here with my brother.” I pointed towards Mitch who was alternating between looking out to the crowd and then back to the bartenders in search of our drinks.
“Oh that’s cool. How about I buy you a drink?”
I laughed internally. It was the first time in my life that a guy had asked to buy me a drink, and I realized how inexperienced I was at those sort of places. It seemed like I was in a movie–so far out of my normal reality.
“That’s okay. We’ve already ordered,” I replied.
“Okay then. Maybe I can buy your next one.” He held out his hand for a handshake. “I’m Raymond. What’s your name?”
“My name is Annie,” I said as I shook his hand.
“And I’m Mitch.” My brother suddenly circled around and jumped into our conversation, handing me my long island and holding his hand out to Raymond.
“Nice to meet you, Mitch,” Raymond said with a kind expression. “I was just getting to know your sister, Annie.”
Mitch looked down and me with questioning eyes.
“It’s okay,” I mouthed but didn’t verbalize.
Mitch looked up at Raymond once again and then turned to me. “Okay, I’ll be right over there if you need me.” He sized Raymond up one more time before he turned and walked away to the far side of the bar.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
“No, it’s okay. He’s your brother. I can understand why he’d be a bit protective of you.” He shrugged his eyebrows and glanced down the bar. “He’s a big guy.”
“He plays football for UCLA.”
“Oh, does he? That’s cool. So what about you? Are you from LA or are you an import?”
I was glad that didn’t seem to recognize Mitch. I hadn’t anticipated on meeting a cute guy that night, but I would have loathed if he was football fan who was drooling over the fact that I was sister of ‘The Wrecker.’ It was nice that he was more interested in getting to know me for me.
“Born and raised here.” I grinned and stirred my drink with the stiff straw that was floating inside. I took a sip of my drink from the straw, and almost spit it out when it hit my tongue. I had somehow forgot that Mitch had brought me alcohol, perhaps mislead by the cute pineapple that was adorned to the side of my glass, and my body instantly rejected it. Thankfully, I managed to swallow.
“Are you okay?” Raymond asked. He had obviously noticed my slight heave.
“Yeah, sorry. It’s just a bit sour.” I took another big sip, this time prepared for the foreign burst of flavor that was about to hit me. It was indeed sour, but it wasn’t that bad the second time around. “Where are you from?”
“I’m originally from Paris, but I’ve been in LA for about 3 years now. I came here to do art but eventually moved into acting. What do you do?”
I took another sip of my drink, trying to buy time to figure out what to say to him. It was ironic that I was just telling
Mitch how I should meet an artist, and low and behold I stumble across one–a rather cute one with a French swagger no less–the same night. If I told him that I was 18 and it was my graduation day, he’d probably run away.
“I’m still figuring things out,” I said eventually.
“Fair enough. There’s a lot of people in LA still trying to figure things out.” The bartender slid Raymond his mojito, and he handed him a ten dollar bill in exchange. Raymond took a sip from his straw then smacked his lips and motioned towards the dance floor. “Care to dance with me?”
A voice inside me told me to politely turn him away, to head back to Mitch and spend some time with my stepbrother, but another voice–probably the long island, which I was already starting to feel–told me to go out and have some fun with Raymond. I could always catch up with Mitch later.
“Sounds fun,” I said a little bit too eagerly.
I saw Mitch looking at the two of us at the other end of the bar, and I pointed towards Raymond and then to the dance floor, giving the obvious signal of what I was planning to do. He nodded towards me and took a sip of his drink.
Raymond grabbed my hand and led me through the club until we were deep inside the swarm of sweaty bodies. The area was sweltering with humidity and I could already feel a thin layer sweat starting to form on my skin.
We were both still holding our drinks, so once we started to dance, it felt a little awkward doing so with glasses slinging around in our hands. I didn’t mind though. I was started to enjoy the long island, and took a sip every few moments between the shuffle of music. Raymond was a great dancer and seeing that he was able to move his body, unabashedly while he held a mojito gave him a lot of bonus points.
After several minutes of dancing, I noticed that my drink was empty, but Raymond, apparently a mind-reader, snatched the empty glass out of my hand and placed both of our finished drinks on a nearby table that was attached to a pole.
I was slinging my hair from side to side when I felt Raymond slide up behind me and place his hand on my waist. Normally, I would’ve jumped away at the slightest foreign touch, but the alcohol and the sight of other people touching loosened my nerves up so that I wasn’t really bothered. He started intermittently at first, sliding behind me with a touch, backing away, then returning with a pat on my shoulder or a twist of my hand and repeating the process over and over. Then he was close, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, while our bodies moved in unison to the music.
Sexy was an understatement. This was not like the high school dances I had been to, and Raymond–sexy, French artist guy Raymond–was showing me moves that completely turned me on. It felt like I was having sex, or at least what I imagined sex would be like. I couldn’t stop beaming from the fun I was having and had completely forgotten that somewhere in the club Mitch was doing who-knows-what.
The song changed, and Raymond grabbed me by the hand, twirled me around like a princess, then pulled me in so that we were face-to-face. His hand found the small of my back and squeezed me closer, then suddenly his lips were on mine.
I could taste the mint of his mojito as he pushed his tongue in my mouth, and I made a mental note to have a mojito instead of a long island as my next alcoholic beverage. My head spun, but I was so turned on from our dancing, that I couldn’t pull away. I accepted his kiss. In fact, I lifted both of my hands up to his cheeks and moaned also as we grinded our bodies into each other and danced the night away.
Thank god for graduation.
But in a flash, the moment was ruined as I felt a large hand push on my shoulder, prying me away from Raymond, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Raymond sliding across the ground on his ass, bumping against the legs of other dancers.
Mitch.
The crowd surrounding us all stopped dancing and focused their attention to the scene that was unfolding in the middle of the dance floor.
“What are you doing!?” I yelled at Mitch.
“I’m getting you away from that creep.” His face was red, and he looked angrier than I had ever seen him.
“He’s not a creep! We’re dancing!”
“That’s not dancing.” He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled. “Come on, we’re going home.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I tugged back, trying to free my wrist. “I want to finish dancing with Raymond!”
He spun into me and pointed his free finger towards my face. “You’re drunk.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s my decision. I’m 18 now. Let me go!”
Mitch released my wrist and softened his face as he stared down at me. “Annie, listen to me. You can’t let some guy–“
“I can do whatever I want.” I wasn’t going to back down to him no matter what he said.
Raymond had picked himself up and made his way over to us. “Hey, look man. I’m sorry for–“
“Don’t be sorry,” I cut him off harshly. “And do you mind giving me a ride home? I think I’ve had enough of my brother for tonight.”
Raymond’s apologetic frown turned into a smile. “Yeah, sure I can give you a ride.”
“Thanks,” I said cockily. I grabbed Raymond’s hand and turned back towards the dance floor.
“Wait, Annie…” Mitch started to protest.
“Oh, just go home, asshole” I chided.
Chapter 16
When I saw Annie kissing Raymond, my heart sunk. The guy was at least five years older than her, and he looked like a total douchebag. I have no idea what Annie saw in the French bastard, but when their bodies were grinding against each other in a more than friendly way, I went into attack mode.
I knew what he wanted.
It’s not Annie’s fault for being so developed, but she looked like she was just asking for it. When I saw Annie at her ceremony, she looked great with her new haircut, but when I saw her dressed for a night out, she didn’t even look like my sister. Maybe it was the makeup, or maybe it was the hair, or maybe it was the tiny red dress that wrapped around her body like a tight fitting glove. I dunno. But she looked sexy as I had ever seen her. Hell, just about every guy’s head swung around to check Annie out when we walked in the club. Don’t even get me started on how her great her tits looked.
I felt like hot shit when I walked in to Revolution with my stepsister by my side. And yeah, I know she’s my sister, but for some reason it felt a bit like a date. I wanted to show her a good time, show her the best night on the town possible, and I thought I’d be the cool big brother by getting her into an exclusive club and letting her drink.
What was I thinking?
I felt like shit for giving her alcohol. There was no doubt in my mind that guys would flirt up Annie, but I thought I knew my sister better. I never imagined that she’d end up making out with the first guy who talked to her. How could she not see that the dude was trying to get her into bed?
She was right when she said she was an adult though. I couldn’t make her do anything. I felt doubly bad, like I had lost my date and lost my sister to a snake when she told me to go home and asked the French guy for a ride. Had I overstepped my bounds by trying to protect her? Had I ruined her graduation night?
I hung around for a little while longer and saw that Annie and Raymond had since navigated back to the dance floor and restarted their little freak session. Just one look at the two sent me into a jealous, ravenous state. I tilted my head back and downed the rest of my long island, trying to cool my nerves.
A tall brunette approached me. “Um… Hello,” she said, waving her head in front of my eyes as if she as trying to snap me out of my manic trance.
I turned my head away from my sister and raised my chin. “Yeah?”
“Are you Mitch Ryker? You play for UCLA, right?”
I lifted my cup to my lips and slid a piece of ice in my mouth. The ice crunched as I chewed and eyed the girl up and down. She was wearing a tight, two-piece black dress and a pearl necklace was draped across her honey colored skin. Her long, dark hair was curled at the ends, and judgi
ng by her accent she was a Latina.
“Yeah, I’m Mitch.”
“Oh my god. I am such a fan of yours. Well, my Dad is a fan, but he’s kind of gotten me into the sport as well,” she rambled. “The way you run over the defenders is insane. It makes the whole experience totally worth it.”
“Thanks,” I said nonchalantly.
She continued standing there, frozen like a dear in the headlights. I call this “Fan Freeze.” It’s when a fan approaches you, wants to chit-chat, has nothing to say, but isn’t quite ready to give up the moment.
I glanced over to Annie who was still dancing with Raymond, and my blood boiled. Then I glanced back to the woman. I couldn’t stay there and stalk Annie all night. She’d hate me for that. And I had the severe need to relieve some tension. The long island had barely had an effect, and I hadn’t fucked a Latina in a long time.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“I’m Sheila,” she grinned.
“What do you say, we get out of here?”
She tilted her head down slightly and looked at me with large eyes. “Are you serious? You want to leave with me?”
“You’re the best looking girl in the club,” I lied. Clearly Annie outshined them all. “Why beat around the bush?”
“Wow… okay… You’re so forward.” Sheila smiled, huffed and rubbed her palms against the flat of her dress. “Let me just go tell me friends that I’m leaving, and I’ll be back.”
I gave her a nod, and she ran off. Fans are the best.
I sent a text to Annie:
Hey Annie, sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to make you upset… If you need anything, please let me know.
Ten minutes later, I was swerving through traffic with Sheila on the passenger side.
“I can’t believe I’m in a Ferrari with The Wrecker,” she squealed.
“Believe it,” I said and reached out to grab her hand. I didn’t really want to hold her hand, but I knew that if I did, she would be so focused on our touch that she would stop talking so much. All I could think about was Annie, and how she dismissed me at the club.
