by Julia Bevan
Chapter 3
Josie
"Excuse me!" I grab the elbow of a waitress passing by, her tray loaded up with three big plates of sloppy looking nachos, "Sorry! I'd been trying to get the attention of someone for what felt like forever, unable to press my body through the dizzying crowd of wiggling bodies. It's claustrophobic in here, sweltering and suffocating. She shoots me an impatient glance, shifting her tray to the other side. She says something, but the words are drowned out by the blaring music that's making my ears throb. I can't hear her at all, and she probably can't hear me either. I haven't seen hide nor hair of my brother since arriving a few minutes ago, but I imagine he's in the middle of some big crowd of his friends somewhere. It'd always been easy for him to make friends, while I typically get all shy and flustered when meeting someone new. Even as a teenager, when most boys his age would be repulsed by the idea of a little sister tagging along, Ben always made sure to include me in his plans. If his friends argued with him, he would always pick me instead. I was never lonely as a kid, thanks to him. "Benjamin Mills!" I say as loudly as I can, "Do you know where he is?" The woman blinks, edging closer. "... where the tea is?" she mouths back, hurriedly pantomiming lifting a cup to her red painted lips. "I'm looking for my brother!" I have no idea how to mime that, so I just lift both my palms up in utter confusion. She squints her eyes like it would help her hear me better somehow, "What would you like to order?" I stare at her, exasperated, then shake my head. "I'll just take the tea, please!" I mumble, feeling sorry for wasting her time when clearly this isn't headed anywhere. With a somewhat halfhearted wink and a grin, she vanishes through the thick throngs of people. Everyone is packed so tightly together that it's impossible to see farther than a foot or two ahead, and the lights flash so brightly that they leave stars in my eyes. I feel like I'm on a whole other planet, unable to speak the language or move under the changed gravity. I'd always been a wallflower. I am in way over my head. No wonder Ben had been so insistent that it was fine that I skip out on coming to this party, but I'm glad I managed to make it. I'd already texted him, asking where exactly in the club he was, but I'd only gotten a random assortment of emojis in return. Still looking for my brother, my gaze lands on a man across the dancefloor, the swarm of dancers between us parting like the Red Sea. The guy standing over across from me is handsome as hell, the pure epitome of tall, dark, and beautiful. Ebony hair hangs in dark eyes, dark stubble rough along his square jaw. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he was looking right at me. Surely, there's no way… A guy like that would never notice me. My throat goes tight, my fingers instinctively curling around the hem of my short skirt to tug it lower down my thighs. I'd had no idea at all about what to wear to this sort of club, and compared to everyone else, I was extremely underdressed. While the men wore slacks, polished shoes, and button u shirts, the other women lounged about in skin-tight dresses and sky-high heels. Then there was me, sticking out again like a sore thumb in my frayed jean skirt, a shimmery pink tank top, and matching sandals I'd gotten from the clearance bin at Target. I was honestly a bit surprised that they even let me into the venue with how everyone else was dressed. Ben's going to tease me for sure when I finally manage to track him down. The waitress suddenly reappears, her tray empty aside from my drink which she thrusts hastily into my hand. Thanking her, I took a long sip, not realizing just how thirsty I was. The iced tea is strangely sweeter than normal, making the tip of my tongue tingle, but then again what was I expecting from a club? It wasn't like they were tea brewing experts. I sidle backwards through the crowd, the people blocking my way from the handsome stranger once again. Someone grabs at me, their hands on my hips. The sudden touch makes me yelp and almost drop my drinks as he draws me closer to his body. He dances behind me, pelvis grinding into my ass, but I whirl around and wag a defensive finger at him. "You touch me again like that and I'll pour my drink in your face!" I raise my voice as much as I can, a furious scowl contorting my eyes. "Yeah, baby?" he grins, licking his lips, "You'll sit on my face?" With a squeak, I wrench away and march determinedly back towards the other side of the room where I can hide away in a corner far from the dancefloor. The air in the club is hot and thick with the scent of liquor and perspiration. There are so many people in here that it feels like it must be a thousand degrees. Beads of sweat form on the back of my neck, dripping slowly down my spine and leaving thin trails down the back of my shirt. I look desperately for Ben, but he's still nowhere to be seen. When I duck into a corner, the waitress from before gestures at my almost finished drink. "Another?" she asks. With a shrug and a nod, I drink it down and then pass the empty glass back over to her. For a moment I close my eyes, take a deep breath of dank air, and focus on relaxing. I must be getting used to the music, I realize, because it's no longer as painful on my ears. I'm not as nervous anymore either, even though I'm surrounded by people. If that creepy guy had asked me to dance now, I might just have said yes instead of being offended. What in the world was going on with me? Was I just that in need of a night out on the town? "Another Long Island!" the waitress beams, leaning in close to lightly place a fresh cup of iced tea into my hand. I look at it, then back at her, startled. "Long Island? That has alcohol in it, right?" I ask in confusion. "Girl, that's like all alcohol," she laughs in response, shaking her head and then turning on her heel. Her makeup, which had been bright and flawless when I first walked in, was beginning to streak down her face because of the humidity of the writhing bodies within the club. Her tray is loaded up with nachos again. I guess it's the favorite munchy of the night, that or someone's ordering a bunch of it. I almost call out after her to take the drink back, but the waitress vanishes amongst the writhing, damp dancing crowd. Thoughtfully, I stir the straw in the glass. The drink stares up at me, beads of cool condensation dripping slowly against my fingers, the ice cubes tinkling merrily against the rim of the glass. I'd never had a Long Island before tonight, but I could distinctly remember a good friend who'd gotten completely trashed off a few of them on her twenty-first birthday. No wonder I'm already feeling a buzz. Both my brother and I turn red when we drink liquor, though it affects his whole body and just my face. As long as I didn't end up dancing like a crazy person up on top of the bar, I'd be fine. Tentatively, I press my lips around the tip of the straw, sucking in a slow gulp and savoring it on my tongue. Now that I knew what I was drinking, I could taste the hidden notes of vodka, and only God knows what else, but it was subtle. This is a dangerous drink, I can already tell. To my surprise, I like it. In seconds, I've finished the drink, and I'm tempted to get one more. I set aside the empty glass, hips wiggling to a song that I didn't know, my awkward movements spurred by a mix of treacherous liquors. My hands find their way into my hair, my head tilting back to greet the music and the flickering neon lights. Right now, I probably blend in with everyone else that's dancing. I'm gyrating and swaying just like them to the beat of the song. My mission to find my brother is all but completely forgotten now, lost in the blur of booze and music. "Finished your drink?" a deep voice asks, so close that the breath is hot on my earlobe. My skin prickles, but I don't open my eyes. I don't want to lose this moment. I feel so impossibly free, like a bird who's just been let out of a cage. I don't want to open my eyes and realize I'm still stuck. "You can take the glass," I murmur to the waiter. He laughs, the sound rough and smooth all at the same time. This time I have to open my eyes. I have to know what the man whose voice that belongs to looks like. "It's you!" I gasp, sucking my lower lip between my teeth and biting down in surprise. The man, the handsome one with the broad shoulders and dark hair who I'd noticed across the club earlier, stood near me now. My nostrils flare with surprise, inhaling the scent of cologne and male musk. It makes my head spin, more intoxicating than any drink I've had tonight. If there's anything temptingly dangerous here, it might be him. "Me?" he echoes curiously, leaning against the wall. He's so tall that I feel dwarfed in his presence. I have to tilt my head back just to get a good look at his face, but
the flickering lights and the lingering alcohol make it hard for me to focus. It's odd, however, that I don't feel intimidated by his muscled bulk. If anything, I feel like I'm suddenly safe and secure, shielded from the other men in the room. Normally, I would shy away. I would make an excuse to vanish. I would run as quickly as I could from the attention. Tonight, however, I feel like a different person. Maybe it's the drinks. Perhaps it's the music. Maybe it's the thrill of skipping work. Perhaps it's just me. "I saw you earlier," a coy smile works its way to my mouth. Holy hell. Am I flirting? Do I even know how to flirt? He smiles back, a faint dimple appearing in his cheek that makes my heart knock against my ribs harder and harder. I suddenly feel swallowed whole by that lopsided grin and the dark specks of his eyes. My knees feel weak, like I'm being held up by nothing but pure luck. "Are you alright?" he asks when I totter to the side, sudden worry blooming in his eyes. His fingers brush my hip, steadying me, and even the slightest touch of his hand against my body makes a lightning bolt of something that I don't recognize pierce through the whole of my body. It's like I've had twenty of those dangerous drinks all at once and every inch of me is on fire. My skin crawls in the most thrilling way. My knees no longer tremble, they shake. My whole body quivers, even down to the deepest part of my core. His other hand brushes my other hip when he notices me trembling, easing me down onto a seat behind me. It's only when my body again gets another flash of heat from his touch that I realize just what it is that's consuming me, making the backs of my eyelids glow crimson red. My eyes drift down his face, locking on the curve of his lower lip that surely tastes deliciously of beer and salt. It's lust that ripples in my veins, that pulses in my heart. Raw, carnal, desperate lust, unlike anything I've ever let myself feel.
Chapter 4
Luke
The wide-eyed way this girl stares up at me makes me feel like she's a helpless doe and I'm a wolf about to scarf her down. It's impossible to place the thoughts whipping around in her pretty head, but I'm worried that I may have startled her. I sit down beside her, retracting my hands from her body so she doesn't think I'm trying to make a move - even though I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to. But I can't tell just how much she's had to drink, and I'm not about to act inappropriately towards her. She's either intoxicated or just plain bizarre, I guess only time will tell. Either way, she's gorgeous. She looks a little familiar though I can't place where I've seen her face before. I figure maybe she's one of our fans and I've seen her at the games in passing. Maybe that's why she's looking at me in the peculiar way she is. She's just star struck. Can't blame her there. It happens with a few of our fans when they wait after the games to meet us sometimes. I'd like to imagine their meeting me is a highlight in their life. After all, I have carried the Pumas to at least one victory with my superior goalie skill. Or at least that's what I'd like to believe. I wave over the waitress, intent on asking again for some more water. "I swear if you ask me for ten giant plates of nachos like your friend did earlier..." she trails off warningly, a stern look on her face. I knew her good mood wasn't going to last. Good to know that Ben was eating at least, he'd need it to soak up some of that alcohol he was chugging down. Hopefully, people have laid off the shots now. I hadn't seen him since he wandered off for a snack, but he's probably laying low somewhere in the crowd. Knowing him, he's falling asleep. One drink too many and that guy passes right out. "Just water, please, for the lady" I laugh, mentally reminding myself to leave the waitress a nice big tip that will take the edge off her evening. I'll have to make sure both Ben and the mystery girl's tabs are settled before I leave as well. For Ben, because he's so drunk, he might forget, and for the girl so that maybe she won't forget about me. She suddenly sucks in a breath as though she's been underwater for some time, only just popping up above the whitecapped surface. "You okay?" I repeat quietly, ready to leave if she asked me to. I wouldn't go far though. I wasn't going to leave a potentially drunk girl stumbling around and confused. "I'm fine, really. Just overwhelmed, I guess," she murmurs shyly, her voice soft and delicate and very sweet. In fact, everything about her is soft and delicate and very sweet. Maybe that's part of what makes her so irresistible. There's an innocence in her expression that makes my molars grind together. At least she doesn't sound as wasted as I thought. "Not much of a partier, are you?" She shakes her head, fiddling again with the frayed edge of her skirt. She stands out amongst the other women in their uncomfortable stilettos and chunky necklaces and overdone hair and bright lipsticks. There's something naturally gorgeous about her, from her tantalizing Cupid's bow to her cinnamon freckled nose. I don't think she's even wearing any makeup. Unlike the gold diggers who follow the rest of the team and me around all the time, she doesn't have that look in her eye like she wants something from me. It's refreshing and borderline irresistible. "Actually, I don't ever do anything like this." It's her turn to laugh this time, gaze skimming the faces of the other partiers before returning swiftly to me. Having her look right at me like this makes my whole body go warm, like I'm standing on a beach with a hot tide slowly washing higher and higher over me. It's then that I finally see it, that familiar gleam of an expression which indicates, in most women, that she wants something. I brace myself, waiting for her to ask me to buy her a lobster dinner or a new dress. "Want to dance?" she whispers breathlessly. For a moment I go entirely silent, staring at her in surprise. That's what she wants from me? "I don't dance," I finally smirk. She reaches over, fingers curling around mine. Her hand is as soft as I expected, her fingers smooth as the finest silk. My whole hand feels hot under hers, like the skin is sizzling where our fingers collide. The girl leans in close so that I can hear her more clearly, "Me neither." If I'd been questioning whether she was truly irresistible before, she definitely proved her power over me now. With ease, she drags me to my feet, and I willingly turn to face her. Though I genuinely don't enjoy dancing, the thought of our bodies being flush together makes this all sound a lot more pleasant. Her arms hook around my neck as the trill of the music behind us beats on. Though the tempo of the song is quick and harsh, we slowly rock together like we're dancing to an old-fashioned love song. Her chest is pressed to mine, and I can feel her heart beat like a little hummingbird's, faster and faster against my own ribs. My hands find their home on her hips, pulling her closer against me. She doesn't resist, her body perfectly melting against my own. Her fingers weave up the back of my head into my hair, lightly plucking at the short, dark strands in a way that makes my eyes almost roll back into my head. My heart picks up the pace, veins swollen and heavy with the heat of growing desire. Being so close to her, inhaling the scent of vanilla shampoo from her hair and liquor from her lips, the urge to kiss her is becoming more and more overwhelming. I resist it, but her eyes stay locked on mine, her mouth just slightly open. Every now and then, I see a hint of her pink tongue behind white teeth. The song changes again, but I no longer hear the music. All I hear is my own heart's rhythm and the soft hitch of her breath. I struggle to find the words to say but find none that would do this moment any bit of justice. Everything about it is just so perfect. For a man who hated dancing before, I find myself never wanting this dance to end. Our bodies are mostly hidden from the prying eyes of the crowd, and though we're surrounded by people, I feel alone with her, like we're the only ones in this entire club. We could be on an entirely different planet right now, and I would never notice. It's a feeling I want to cling to and run from all at once. Just who is this woman, and what sort of spell is she putting me under? My face drifts down towards hers as though it's pulled by a magnetic force beyond my control, the tips of our noses brushing and then our foreheads pressing together. She leans up onto her tiptoes just slightly, only a hair between our mouths though neither of us moves to claim the kiss of the other. Not yet. My eyes drift open only to find her already gazing up at me. I consider the flecks of her beautiful eyes for a long moment, connecting the shards of gold within them like the stars of a glorious constellation. The air crackles between us, th
e tip of her pink tongue tracing her upper lip. I can't just stand here anymore; if I do, I'm going to kiss her. I'm going to claim her. I'm going to want her. But I don't know this woman, and she needs to make her own choice on what she wants as well. There's only one thing to do. "Listen," I murmur, my hands gliding ever so slowly down her sides. She shivers under my touch, her head tilting back and exposing the long, pale flesh of her neck to me. I want to press my mouth against her collarbone, tasting the salt of her skin. I want to taste all of her. "I live across town, but I got a hotel room right next door so I could crash after the party." She doesn't speak, but her fingers trace down my spine, the wake of her fingernails making goosebumps blister in a field over my skin. I reach into my pocket and dug out one of my room keys. When the concierge had handed me two earlier, I'd almost told them I didn't need the extra. Now I'm glad to have gotten it. I dip it into her back pocket, taking a moment to worship the curve of her ass, then lean in closer to her ear. "Room 823, if you want to join me." Reluctantly, though I go through great pains to make it look easy, I pull back with a wink. She's gazing at me again in that same way that she was earlier, her eyes locked on my face as if I'm all that she can see. Except I can recognize the expression now. She's not looking at me as though I'm a predator stalking her as my prey, she's looking at me with that strained expression because she's fighting her own inner urges. "823," I repeat one more time before melting backwards through the mass of people until she's gone from my sight. It's only then that I finally suck in a breath, my heart beating like a jackhammer in my chest. I have to press one hand to it in an attempt to calm it down. No woman has ever made me feel this way. Hell, nothing at all has ever made me feel this way, not even any hockey award or commemoration that I've won. In those moments, standing on the stage and feeling the weight of a trophy in my hand or a medal around my neck, I'd thought I'd had it all. Now I realize how wrong I was. Why can't I get enough of this strange woman? Even if she doesn't show up at my hotel room and even if I never see her again, I'm exhilarated just to have met her because she showed me a side of myself that I never knew existed. It's like I've been going through life without seeing a vibrant shade of the rainbow that was suddenly everywhere, like I'd been blind to it until she showed me it was out there. Everything now seems brighter and warmer. "Luke!" calls Ben's voice as I walk dazedly by. He was doing better now, slightly more sobered up but still smiling. That's probably thanks to the heaping plate of nachos he made the waitress track down for him. "Hey, did I miss your speech?" I ask with sudden remembrance. I'd gotten so caught up in the girl that it had totally slipped my mind why I was even here. Ben shakes his head and shrugs, "I don't want to go up there slurring like an idiot. Max is taking me home once he finishes hitting on some girl." "I'll see you at practice tomorrow," I say with a laugh, marching determinedly out of the club. If I got to the hotel quick enough, I could get some champagne delivered to the room. It's not like I'm looking to marry the girl, hell, I don't even know her name, but there's something about her that makes me want to make this night as special as I can. But all I can think about is taking her in my arms, laying her on my bed, tearing off her clothing piece by piece while she cries out my name in that sweet voice of hers. Strangely enough, however, I don't care if that's not how we spend the night. She could merely show up, and we could just sit on opposite sides of the room staring at each other, and I'd still be content. No matter where the night leads, I know I'm going to love every second.
