Someone Like You

by Addison Moore

  “Ally Monroe engaging in illegal activity? I might have to conduct a citizen’s arrest.”

  I belt out a laugh. “Right. I’m sure I’ll fall on my head so that won’t be necessary. Although, if you feel the need to play doctor again—I might be up for some of your alternative treatments. In fact, I feel a dull ache coming on that only you can cure.”

  “You won’t fall, Ally. And if you do, I’ll be there to catch you.” Morgan pulls me in just as the sky darkens overhead.

  The moment grows altogether serious as a light rain starts to fall.

  “You’re always there to catch me, Morgan. Why is that?” Maybe he’ll say it—give me the words full strength, those very words I’ve longed to hear since my mother passed away, but that no one has said, not even Ruby.

  “Because you fall a lot.” He pulls his cheek to the side and his dimple winks at me.

  “Are you always such a wise ass?” I press my chest against his and tip my neck back to look straight at him.

  “I learned from the master. You have much to teach.”

  “You’re welcome, grasshopper. I find my black belt in sarcasm is both cathartic and catty. What more can you ask for?” Plus it masks a thousand feelings. I like the mask. I like the way it bandages up the wound so the world can never see it.

  “Yeah, well, sometimes things get serious.” He leans in like he’s about to kiss me, and pauses. Morgan locks his steel gaze over mine. “That’s when you use heartfelt words to express how you really feel. Those are the important ones.”

  The rain falls in long, silver slats, cutting across our bodies sideways at an aggressive pace. It’s so loud, as if someone turned up nature’s volume all the way, stealing the moment from Morgan and me. And now, we’ll never know what those important words were or who was going to say them first.

  That night, at the Pretty Girls Gentlemen’s Club, I hang out with Tess in the love shack she shares with Dell and his unholy harem while she teaches me the fine art of pole dancing. Tess said she had to pull a few “strings” so Dell would give me another chance at the club. I don’t even want to know what the details of said “strings” were. I’m sure it involved a flesh exchange. And, considering Dell was at the receiving end, it more than makes me want to hurl. Speaking of the club, Morgan is there now, probably getting accosted by an entire bevy of underdressed girls. Not that I can blame them for trying to have their way with him. I just don’t want them to.

  “Make love to the pole, Ally,” Tess commands as she jumps up onto it and points her toe toward heaven. “See how easy it is?” She twirls down with the grace of a ballerina.

  “Nice.” I go up and hop onto the metallic structure just the way Tess demonstrated and actually end up sticking until I slowly release and edge my way down in short staccato jerks. “Ha! That was easy.” I flex my foot in the air, and land on my head with a thump.

  “That’s a great way to throw out your back.” Tess claps her hands as if ordering me back on my feet. “Come on! Let’s see that again.”

  I give it another go like a seasoned showgirl and jump on the pole as if it were Morgan. I caress its cool steel exterior and slide down with ease this time, finishing it off with a little twirl. It takes about a dozen more tries before I feel confident that I can tackle the phallic lightning rod in the big room, but I’m starting to get good vibes about the entire situation. Maybe this whole dancer thing will really work out for me? I mean, if Morgan’s okay with me showing off my goods, minus providing services, I don’t see what’s wrong with turning a few bucks by way of my body.

  “Look at you!” Tess beams with a streak of red lipstick smeared over her teeth. “You did it! I knew you were a natural. You’re destined to knock ’em dead.”

  “Maybe I am. I got fired from Starbucks. And God knows I don’t have enough to pay for my own place and books next semester. I’ll have to take out a monster loan just to graduate.” I sit on the floor with my back against the pole. “Worst of all—” I’m going to say it. I can feel it bubbling from my lips like a volcanic eruption. “I’m going to miss Morgan. He goes home in a few weeks. So there’s that.”

  “Morgan?” Her face knots up in confusion. “Are you talking about that guy who gave you a ride?” She points in the direction of the club. “The bouncer?”

  “Yes.” I nod, shocked by her apparent dismissal. “The bouncer. He’s nice. He makes me feel special, and safe—and I’m going to cry rivers and flood this whole damn place when he leaves.” I press my lips together as tears make their appearance a little sooner than expected.

  “Oh, honey!” She lands next to me soft as a whisper. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Love?

  I shrug, still not sure she pegged the right emotion.

  “I don’t know.” I take the tissue she’s manufactured from thin air and blow my nose. “I’m not sure I’ve ever loved a boy before. I mean, how would I know? How does anyone know?” Is there some relational juxtaposition I’m supposed to conduct? Do I hold our relationship up to Kendall and Cruise’s? Lauren and Cal’s? God forbid I use Tess and Dell as a measuring stick, but if we’re just passing time together, how are we any different?

  Tess pulls me in. A faraway look takes over as she considers this.

  “Oh, Ally. When you think of that person, and your heart is so full that you can’t take it anymore, that’s when you know,” she says sweetly while brushing the hair from my forehead. “You’ll want to spend every waking hour together, and he’ll occupy your thoughts from sunup until sundown. There won’t be anything you won’t want to share with him. I think when all of those things fall in line, that’s when you can really be sure you’re in love.” She presses a soft kiss over my temple.

  “Thank you, Tess.”

  I think I’m already sure.

  The club is filled to maximum capacity tonight as I peer from behind the thick velvet curtain. The smell of smoke and whiskey lights up the air as music pulsates from the speakers.

  Tess convinced me to step into a pair of long white boots that crest my thighs, a metallic G-string with a bona fide chain that rubs me the wrong way, and a hot-pink bra encrusted with an illegal amount of rhinestones that bejewels my chest.

  I’m on after Cinnamon and Spice—a duo that wows the crowd by indulging in one another’s hips and lips.

  Once they boogie on down into the crowd, Tess gives me a gentle shove.

  “Remember—eye contact. Choose a customer and focus. Make him feel like the only man in the room. You’ve got this, girl!”

  “I’ve got this,” I repeat, stepping out onto the stage. I’ve been relegated to the dance floor since that first night I took a tumble. Well, it was mostly a self-imposed sanction. But tonight I’m conquering my fears, walking the catwalk like a big girl and rubbing up against some serious stainless steel. The pole catches my attention. It’s not at all like the flimsy, thin stick Dell had installed in his living room. This one has the girth of a telephone pole.

  My palms sweat at the sight of it. My stomach does a revolution, and it’s only then that I remember I haven’t eaten a thing since Morgan made breakfast.

  Shit. This is totally throwing me off my game.

  Okay, don’t panic. A slight roll of nausea cycles through me.

  The catcalls begin as the music slows to a ridiculous pace.

  Choose your get.

  I scan the crowd for a friendly face to latch onto until this fiasco passes but I have a hard time looking at any of them. Then, buried in the haze, I see him—Morgan. He’s got his hair slicked back. His T-shirt looks two sizes too small, causing his biceps to bulge like hillsides. His rippling abs contour through the fabric, and I smile, big and bright in his direction.

  Morgan widens his grin. His dimples explode, taking my insides down with them.

  Something deep inside me solidifies as I take him in. It’s as if
a spotlight had fallen over Morgan and assured me of everything I already knew deep down. My heart feels full, like it’s ready to burst, and for damn sure I don’t think I can take it anymore. Morgan locks eyes with me, and I’m mesmerized. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy. And more than anything, I want to spend every waking hour with him. He occupies my thoughts from sunup until sundown. There isn’t a thing in the world I don’t want to share with Morgan Jordan.

  Everything in me swims with relief. There’s not a doubt in my mind—I’m in love with him, and I want the whole world to know it.

  My hips swivel as I strut down the illuminated catwalk, ready to throw all caution to the wind and give everything up for the one I love.

  I quickly approach the pole in all its vertical glory.

  I take a running leap and land midway up with my leg wrapped around it for dear life. Holy shit! This is so not like the pole I spent hours perfecting my routine on. Again, I’m going to strangle Tess once I get backstage. Thoughts of Morgan flood to the forefront of my mind, and I mold my body over the pole as if it were the dark knight himself. Then something strange happens and my limbs contour over the iced steel. I release my upper body and fall backward, my hair sweeping over the platform below. It feels empowering, gratifying—dangerously sexy. I twirl my way down with my leg still pointed skyward.

  I did it!

  I bounce to my feet before strutting to the edge of the stage to do what I had planned on all night: swan-diving right into Morgan Jordan’s arms. The crowd goes wild as I fall, weightless, light as a feather.

  “Damn, you were hot.” He lands a searing kiss right over my lips.

  I hold him by the neck and moan into him. I never want this feeling to end.

  “Thanks for catching me,” I say breathless as I spring to my feet.

  “Thanks for falling in the right direction.” He gives a quick wink.

  Kit is already on stage replicating my efforts on the pole, although she happens to look like a butterfly floating up and down its shaft. I doubt she’ll be tumbling off stage anytime soon, by accident or on purpose.

  I wrap my arms around Morgan and pull him in.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” I whisper.

  “What’s that?” He squints in an effort to make out what I’m saying over the blaring music. The thick cigarette smoke generates a toxic haze between us.

  Just as I’m about to harness all of the power my vocal cords can muster, a strong pair of arms yank me away—Woody Bates.

  “Hey, sugar.” His breath creates a nuclear wind of liquid courage as it sears over my face. His eyes are partway closed, and he’s drifting in a circular pattern, clearly wasted out of his mind.

  “Hey, you.” I try to play along while gently removing his roving appendages the way Tess taught me.

  Morgan pops up over my shoulder.

  “This guy giving you trouble?” he seethes.

  “Nope, got it handled. I’ll see you in a bit. I have a lot I want to say.” I bite down over my lip a moment before reverting my attention to Woody. Then a thought comes to me. I’ve got the perfect revenge for Woody Bates’s oddball behavior both on and off campus. It’s called Operation Clean Out His Wallet one last time.

  “So are you ready to party?” I swing my hips into his and his beady little eyes widen a notch. I glance back and Dell is speaking with Morgan, probably telling him not to catch flying girls. Dell’s a moron that way.

  I turn back to Woody. He and his banknotes are about to go down.

  “I’m ready if you are.” He slurs it out with a greasy smile.

  I do a little private show, nothing too overtly sexual, just rotating my hips like a hula girl and holding out my hands with a smile, ready for an honest wage earned.

  “It’s payday, Woody,” I say, glaring right at him. I’m tired of him getting all of the show and me getting none of the dough.

  He licks his lips and breaks out in a smile that reeks of sexual elation. Woody wraps his arms around my bare waist and his fingers travel south making themselves at home in the crevice where my G-string resides.

  “You can’t do that!” I try to pluck him off, but his arms have rooted to me like a vine.

  Morgan blows him backward onto the floor. He thrashes Woody around with the strength of a lion.

  “God! He’s going for the jugular!” I scream.

  Morgan throws a couple of wild punches and Woody gets in a few good kicks to the nuts.

  Shit! He’s going to take a perfectly good Morgan Jordan and castrate him. This is all my fault.

  The room lights up with screams. Woody’s face bloats as bright as a cherry while Dell and the bartender try to stop Morgan from attaining a lengthy prison stay.

  “Morgan,” I scream as Tess comes and holds me by the shoulders.

  I hate this.

  Morgan gets up and holds his hands back as if he’s leaving voluntarily. He gives Woody one last swift kick in the ass before turning to me.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, cupping my face with his hands.

  My insides melt as he examines me with such careful attention. Morgan sets my skin on fire when he looks at me this way.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Are you okay is the question?” I dip my gaze to his Levi’s.

  “I’m more than okay now that he’s not giving you a physical.”

  “He’s just wasted. Woody’s a goof.” I wrap my arms around Morgan and help him along. He’s hobbling, wincing with every other step, and it’s safe to say Woody left his indelible footprint over his ball sack. I bet Woody was looking forward to crunching my boyfriend’s jewels ever since the day Morgan added a new hump to his nose.

  Did I just call Morgan my boyfriend?

  Dell and Tess stomp their way over with stern looks.

  “You know what this means, right?” Dell grits it through his chipped teeth.

  “It means he’s a hero.” I glare at the two of them. They have a lot of audacity to bust his balls when clearly someone beat them to it.

  Morgan groans as he leans against the wall. “You want to sign me up for your fight club?”

  “No. It means take your white-trash ass the hell out of here and don’t look back,” Dell barks. “I don’t want any more trouble at my club. And you’re more trouble than I’ve had to deal with in years.”

  Morgan looks at me and offers an apologetic smile.

  “That’s it,” I say, siding myself with Morgan. “He is neither trash nor trouble. You’d be lucky to have an ounce of what makes him tick.” I stab my finger in Dell’s scrawny chest. “It’s you who’s trash for not having the balls to tie yourself to one woman.”

  “Ally!” Tess tries to pull me back by the shoulder, but I yank myself free.

  “It’s true, Tess. You deserve someone who treats you better than this. Does he make your heart feel full? Do you think about Dell sunup until sundown? I seriously doubt it because he’s too damn busy entertaining six other girls on the side.” I revert my rage back where it belongs. “You’re the one who’s trash, Dell. You’re nothing but trouble for leading my sister on. I hope she leaves you, and I hope this dive of yours tanks.”

  I whisk my way over to the lockers and throw my T-shirt on, tearing off the bejeweled bra like a magician through my sleeve. I jump into my sweats, freeing myself of the chastity belt chained to my ass, and step out of the overglorified waders.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I say, taking up Morgan’s hand and speeding us out the exit.

  “Call me!” Tess waves after me as Morgan and I make our way into the dark, cool night.

  “You were fantastic.” He pulls me in and gives a sad smile.

  “On the pole?”

  “Nope. Just now, telling everyone how you really feel.”

  “I think that’s exactly what I should do next.” I
take a breath. “Tell you how I really feel.”

  Morgan

  Ally decides to wait until we’re somewhere more memorable than the parking lot at Pretty Girls to clue me in on her feelings.

  “Sounds romantic,” I say, trying not to come off like some sarcastic douche. As soon as the R word sprung from my lips, a dopey grin lit up my face.

  I can feel it coming. Tonight’s the night. Ally is going to share her feelings and for damn sure I’m going to do the same. Although, I’m half afraid my feelings have evolved a little too quickly and the emotion that best describes them begins with an L. Ally is much more reserved. She’s probably going to tell me she thinks I’m a “nice guy” for removing the parasite that attached himself to her body.

  “So”—I start, unsure of how to do this—“you want to head to the beach?”

  Her lips curve with devilish intent and she shakes her head.

  “I was thinking…” It comes out breathy and my dick perks to attention in hope that the rest of her musings have a clear role for it. “We should just go home.” She bats her lashes at me before biting down over her cherry-stained lip.

  Hot damn. The entire fucking night just exploded with promise, sort of like my body is begging to do.

  We hop in the truck, and I drive like I’m auditioning for NASCAR as I land us in front of Cruise’s place in record time, only there’s a car parked in my usual spot.

  “Cal and Lauren are over.” Ally chews on the inside of her cheek while rethinking the situation. “Let’s just go in.” She wrinkles her nose at me as if plan B is well under way.

  “Suit yourself,” I say as make our way inside.

  All heads turn in our direction as soon as we step through the door.

  I spot Cruise’s little sister taking up real estate on the couch. Her bare legs are slung over the side, already parting like a promise.

  Crap—just what I needed.

  Molly delivers a lewd grin in my direction, and I pretend not to notice.

  Kendall, Cruise, Cal, and Lauren are seated over at the kitchen table, locked in a heated poker game. The girls look bored out of their minds.