by Pamela Ann
“Um … How far away is this place?”
Nessa threw me a warm smile. “Not far. We’re almost in Brighton, love.”
Brighton? I wondered, thinking that I hadn’t been there. Well, there were a lot of places I hadn’t been yet, but one by one, hopefully before I left the country, I would have a chance to see them all. Who knew when I would be able to visit again? Surely not on a student budget; that was for damn sure.
The party was held in the three-story home of some artist, so the people filtering in and out of the place were a contrast of colors and hues. Most opted for black apparel with interesting hair colors from all over the color wheel. It certainly would be a night to remember.
British people expressed themselves in the most passionate of ways. I didn’t know how they had become known for being standoffish and reserved. One thing stood out, though, and that was their love of music. People here seemed to appreciate the retro jams, rock and roll, and everything in between. It was different than what I was used to, but I found it refreshing.
I wasn’t sure if that made much sense, but heck, I was young and buzzing with alcohol, so I did what everyone else was doing: dance, drink, converse, and dance some more.
Since Bobbie was basically engrossed with Jude, Nessa and I partied together. There were several men wanting to break us apart, but I wasn’t interested. When one guy took Nessa’s interest and left me all to my lonesome, I was relieved to see Bobbie sitting all by herself while watching her boyfriend do some Irish bomb contest. Seeking her company, I sat next to her, enjoying the craziness around me.
“Your boyfriend looks a breath away from passing out.” Jude did seem as though he couldn’t go for another round. His eyes were barely cracked open as he sported a shit-eating grin.
Bobbie smirked. “Oh, that’s nothing new, my love. The party wouldn’t be smashing if he didn’t fall flat on his hairy arse.”
Jude had a hairy ass? Uh … GROSS! The image that flashed through my mind was too hard to shake off. Fuck.
Bobbie spat out the alcohol from her mouth, snorting as she laughed her heart out. “Your face! Bloody hell, that was priceless!”
Hairy and ass didn’t go together. I would have enjoyed laughing along with her, but I was too sober to do so.
“What time do you think we’ll be heading back? I’m in no rush, just want a time frame.” I still had classes and work tomorrow, none of which I intended to miss.
“I don’t think any of us are in condition to drive. We’ll probably crash here or sleep in the car more like. You know what I mean?”
“Yes, I do.” But I wasn’t prepared for that. I didn’t expect that coming out to party tonight meant that I wasn’t going home until whenever they felt like driving back. It wasn’t their fault. It was mine since I hadn’t asked for essential details when they invited me. Heck, I hadn’t even asked where it was located.
While Bobbie was preoccupied rehashing stories about Jude and getting inebriated in the past, I was trying to find a solution. Given the hour, flagging a cab or taking the train was out of the question. I had heard it didn’t resume until six a.m., so I basically had the choice of waiting it out for another five hours or tagging along with my school friends, none of which appealed to me, to say the least.
He did say I could call him if I needed something, and this was a moment of desperate need. It would have been different if there was a safe place to crash around here. However, it seemed that everyone was too busy meeting someone to hook up with and getting obliterated as quickly as possible instead of worrying about something as lame as having a decent place to sleep.
One of my biggest rules when partying was always to make sure I got home safely. I could get drunk as much as my heart desired, but I always had to sleep in my own bed.
With that in mind, I got up and went to the nearest corner that was packed with couples making out or trying to get to second base. Ignoring the romantic humdrum behind me, I pulled my phone out of my purse.
“Serena!” Nessa hollered at me from a few feet away. “Dance with me. I need a partner.”
“In a little bit. Let me just call someone really quickly, then I’ll be right with you, promise,” I pled, and she signaled a thumbs up then blew me a kiss.
Back to my dilemma, I took a lengthy breath. “Get over it, Serena. You’re being obnoxious. Stop it,” I muttered under my breath as I looked down at the handheld device.
With my phone in hand, I scrolled for Cruz’s name, feeling wretched for even considering this idea, yet I felt dizzy at the thought of hearing his voice after a week of no news from him. My withdrawals were real, but not severe. Even so, none of it was healthy.
Holding my breath as I pressed the call button, I was half hoping he would pick up and half hoping he would send the call to voicemail or still be out of the country. When I heard his voice on the other end of the phone, though, my heart skyrocketed into blissful oblivion.
“Yes?” His raspy, deep-timbered voice temporarily suspended me from reality. Then, as quickly as it came, I was reverted back to my senses.
Shaking my head, I wondered who answered a phone call with a yes. A normal person would usually say hello, not yes. It was arrogant and a bit entitled. Little bits like these made me nervous when it came to him. It only reminded me of the vast difference between us.
“Hey, it’s Serena,” I said meekly but loud enough for him to hear.
“Serena?” He didn’t sound pleased. “Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?”
Maybe I had caught him at a bad time. Well, there was no good time past midnight when one was calling for a favor. Damn it. I probably should just apologize and hang up for bothering him. It would be the politest thing to do.
“What is that sound in the background?” He sounded appalled.
Your worst nightmare, I wanted to retort back, but I successfully refrained from it. Instead, I decided to play nice.
“It’s called the “Macarena,” A blast from the past, 90s style.”
“It’s the what?”
“Have you been living in a cave? ’Cause I’m pretty sure everyone’s heard this song.”
There was something about his tone that rubbed me the wrong way. I felt as though he was judging me for some reason.
“I sure as hell haven’t, so no, I doubt everyone has heard of it.”
I couldn’t believe it. We were actually arguing about the fucking “Macarena” song. Why did he have to be so infuriating?
“I get that you’re mister high and mighty, but please, just for once—just this one time—could you please take the stick out of your royal ass?”
“I beg your pardon? First of all, I am not royalty. Secondly, I never had a stick up my arse, not now, not ever, not even in the near bloody future—”
Okay, I got that loud and crystal clear.
“Fine. Okay, whatever.” This whole conversation had started on the wrong footing. How it got here, I had no idea. As much as I would have liked to bury this entire conversation, he apparently wasn’t done.
“Did you insinuate that because of what happened that night?” he confronted, possibly wanting to open the can of worms once again.
Oh, no. I could talk and argue about anything: conspiracy theories about NASA covering up alien life, the inhumane ritual killing of hundreds of whales in the Faroe Islands, the child bride practices in other cultures, the thriving narcissistic culture through social media, why Kylie Jenner’s lips garnered more attention than ISIS in our society’s younger generation—heck, anything, anything at all. But never about that night. I just couldn’t.
“Listen, I’m sorry I called at this late hour. Just scratch everything I said. It was a mistake calling you tonight.”
“Were you drunk dialing and mistakenly called me?”
Drunk dialing? I wasn’t that kind of woman. What the hell? I was a fun drunk, not some emotional train wreck.
“No, but if I was, I’d rather call 1-800-MASTURLINE.”
WTF? Did I just say that out loud?
Shit. Shit. SHIT.
My face was beyond hot; it was burning from inside out.
“Forget I said that. FUCK!”
I wanted to die on the spot. What in the world made me spout off idiotic things to him? It was like vomit—just when you thought it was over and done with, there was another surprise attack sneaking up on you.
“Like hell I will. MASTURLINE?” His tone sounded amused with a hint of intrigue. “Care to elaborate on that?”
“Not really. Nope.” I shook my head, wanting for something to swallow me alive so I didn’t have to endure another notch in my already long list of embarrassing moments where Cruz was concerned.
“You’re quite the firecracker, aren’t you, Serena?”
How badly I wanted to die right then and there. Then again, the uncomfortable damage was done, so it was best to live with it.
“You bet. I’m like a Christmas morning—a gift that keeps on giving. Now that we’ve established that, can I hang up now? ’Cause I think my fun-o-meter is running low.”
“Why did you call me in the first place, Serena?” he inquired, obviously willing to forgo the awkward moment.
I could have sighed with relief, but I didn’t want him to know how embroiled and distressed I was.
“I wouldn’t have bugged you in the first place if Archer wasn’t out of town.”
“Good to know I’m not the first choice.” Pure sarcasm laced his voice, none too pleased.
His comment was as if he was implying something else entirely. If his ego was bruised, well, it wasn’t my intention.
Back to my present conundrum, I hoped he would be willing to help me.
“Are you back in town, or are you still in Geneva?”
“I flew in four hours ago.”
“Right. Well, I know this might seem too much, given that you guys don’t know me all that well yet, but since you once told me that I could count on you when I needed something, I was hoping, if possible, there’s a spare driver you could call to come pick me up right now? I know it’s late, and I apologize for that. I promise this will be the first and only time. I don’t like inconveniencing people for my benefit. I’m not like that at all. I just wanted to add that.”
There was a momentary pause before he said, “Where are you exactly?”
“Brighton.”
“What in God’s name are you doing in Brighton on a school day?” he hissed, briefly stunning me.
The second I regained my wit, I immediately went into defensive mode. “What do you think, Cruz? We’re studying the Bible and singing “Kumbaya,” I snapped back, fuming.
“Lovely, just lovely. At least one of us finds it humorous,” He reprimanded in a manner that a principal would use to scold a student. “Text me the address this instant, and someone will be on their way to come fetch you.”
“Thank you.” His less than amused tone affected me a great deal more than I would like to admit. Instead of responding in the same biting tone I had used minutes ago, I felt compelled to resort back to my less catty voice, mellower and less snarky.
I was expecting another exchange of words, but was stunned to find that the line had gone dead.
Okay. What was that all about? Was he pissed off because I had called at this time of the night, the fact that I wanted a driver to come get me, or the fact that I had partied on a school night? Margery didn’t seem to mind when I told her, so why was he acting like I was a rebellious party girl?
Shaking my head, I made sure to text him the address then put my phone on vibrate before I slipped it back into my purse and headed off to find Nessa on the dance floor.
Chapter 74
Cruz
I
kept staring at the phone, confused, wondering why the hell I was so bloody furious. Ever since the day I had laid eyes on her, nothing had been the same. She had been hounding my thoughts, making me struggle to fight this powerful pull that kept me from gaining back my sanity. The week away from her was a blessing. I had almost believed she didn’t affect me so. Well, that belief came into question when I got a call from her and proved how wrong my judgment was.
Brighton, on a Monday night. “Bloody Hell,” I muttered under my breath.
Before I even had the chance to ponder it, I thought it would be best to get her myself. That way, maybe she could get a good lecture or two about how she should take her life seriously.
As all these inexplicable thoughts ran through my mind, one thing stood out—why did I care so much if she partied? She wasn’t my responsibility, far from it. Apart from making sure she got everything she needed while living in my mother’s home, the rest wasn’t my problem.
Cursing for considering such idiotic thoughts, I took the flight of stairs two steps at a time, instantly going inside my room to change into some black jeans, black top, and a matching leather jacket. Then I marched down the flight in the same manner as before, striding towards the hall that led to the foyer. I seized the set of keys that were sitting on the Murano crystal table then let myself out the house, and I immediately slid into the Range and revved up the engine before maneuvering in a maniacal manner.
Reckless driving was not a constant occurrence, but haplessly applied when the situation called for such, such as when someone got themselves in trouble on a Monday night.
Before I had received the call from Serena, I had actually been contemplating if I should see Ivy or not, but the idea turned to dust the moment I heard the madness in the background. Ivy. God help me. She wouldn’t be pleased to know what I had been up to, but I was already on my way to pick up Serena.
“This is the last time,” I said under my breath, loathing the fact that I had somehow managed to entangle my life with Serena’s.
Although I didn’t despise her, I found myself cold and distant with her. Maybe it was because I envied her candor and vibrant persona, the polar opposite of me. She always seemed to don this smile that never failed to make me feel uncomfortable, yet I couldn’t ever look away. I admitted she was charmingly beautiful, but so was Ivy.
I had realized I had never looked at my fiancée in the way I looked at Serena. Serena rattled something within me, and it was unsettling. I had felt it the moment my eyes had found hers, and it had only gotten worse when she had kissed me in such a fervent manner that I had succumbed to my wayward senses. For years, I had never had a problem governing my wants and desire, yet that kiss almost made me lose control. From then on, I had known I had to keep her at arm’s length.
She was far too dangerous for my well-being, and quite frankly, I liked having order in my life. Happenstance wasn’t part of my vocabulary.
Still, here I was … about to dance around the orbit of the damn enticement itself.
I already regretted the decision of coming out to get her myself rather than having one of the in-house drivers pick her up, so I consoled myself that I needed the drive to clear my thoughts. I supposed I could use this opportunity to see her in an environment that would give me a hefty reality check.
When I had first met her, I had shocked myself by flirting with her. It wasn’t intentional. I was used to women throwing themselves at me, and she didn’t hide the fact that she liked me. Her eyes and the way she addressed me proved as much. My normal reaction would be to scoff at it and turn down the woman’s advances before it progressed further since I was committed to Ivy, but I couldn’t do it with Serena.
It seemed, the more I got to know her, the more I felt as though she drew me into her spell. I was drawn to her like none other. It was enjoyable at first, but after that heated kiss, I knew she was a disaster waiting to happen.
Indulging in such fiery dalliances was never on my agenda. She simply was a risk I could do without. With that in mind, I had it all planned out, and then my mother had to suggest she work for me. I had almost passionately rejected it out loud when the mere idea spouted from her lips. Once more, however, I didn’t have the capacity to decline my
mother in fear that her health might deteriorate even further. It was best I dealt with the situation with caution. Tonight would be a good start.
Steering through the sparse traffic with the help of navigation, I arrived at the address Serena had texted me. Although I’d had an idea of what I would most likely deal with upon arriving, nothing had prepared me for such monstrosity. Not only was the house vibrating loud music throughout the street, but there were people littered around the damn walkways, drinking, dancing, and doing God knew what else. This was, without a doubt, the worst racket I had ever set my eyes upon.
Serena likes places like this? I marveled at the thought, pondering what had enticed her to such a scene. To each their own.
Parties such as these were not my cup of tea, and for good reason. Archer, on the other hand, lavished on such occasions because he had been brought up differently than I. At a very young age, I was already primed to carry on my father’s legacy, so I had instilled in my mind that partying would deviate me from my purpose. While he had the freedom to do as he pleased without familial obligation hanging over his head, I had carried on doing my commitment without a word of complaint. I had one it for the love I had for my parents and out of duty, and nothing could ever steer me away from my commitment, not even an enchanting American who stirred something deep within me.
After drawing out breath, I tried calling her phone a few times, but to no avail. It immediately diverted straight to her voicemail.
“Where the bloody hell is she?” I grumbled as I scanned the drunken folks through the glass of my window. After a minute or so without any sign of her, I decided it was best to park somewhere, get out of the car, and look for her. I wasn’t one to wait about until she was ready to end her partying for the night.
Once I was out of the vehicle, I was a little disappointed of what type of company Serena surrounded herself with from university. She seemed like a bright woman with splendid potential. It would be disheartening to see her deter from her promising future, wasting away precious time by meandering through parties and men instead of focusing on paving her way into a successful career. Was this the main reason she had come here in the first place, to party?