by Scott, Amber
“Exactly,” Sadie said, feeling cocky.
Jen abruptly stood and said, “You ready?”
Sadie suppressed her gasp and followed her cousin out. At the exit, she sent a shrug and a grin to the pair they’d left standing. Their gaping mouths reminded her of back in the day. Maybe she wasn’t so rusty after all.
A tip to valet and they were off to the club. “You were awesome back there.” Jen tossed her long hair. “See, I knew you could do this! So, one half of the club is Ice and plays trance and techno, while Fire is the dance and hip-hop side. In the middle is a lounge and after midnight, they wheel out a grill,” Jen explained. “The burgers are heavenly, but the plan is to stay, dance our asses off, then head to after hours at Denny’s.”
“Denny’s?” That sounded lame.
“I know, I know. Denny’s of all places, right? Not exactly cool. But you’ll be amazed.”
Again, they bypassed the line and Jen kissed the bouncer on the mouth on their way in. She quickly ordered them two pomegranate martinis. “Denny’s has perfect drunk food. Just find the picture of what you want and point at it. And it’s so brightly lit you can see who you were actually dancing with all night.”
Amazingly, their fruity martinis arrived fast. Sadie sipped the tangy concoction slowly. No way was she getting drunk and ruining this night. “But you said they serve amazing burgers here.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay. He might be there.”
“He?” Sadie asked immediately, thinking of Elijah. But Jen couldn’t possibly mean him. Her belly ached just a little anyway.
“The guy I met.” Jen got that far off look from last weekend as she swirled her drink. “The perfect one?”
“From the club?” Sadie tried to sound forgetful. She’d mentally replayed the conversation a hundred or so times, inserting herself as Jen and Elijah as—. She stopped herself from finishing the story. What if Jen had met Elijah?
No. She had to stop thinking of him.
She’d made a deal with herself on the ride over. No Elijah tonight. No whimsical winged fantasies, no wishing for the chance to fix that first impression, or plotting exactly how she’d fix it. None of it. Period.
“No. Not from the club.” Jen took a long drink. “From Denny’s.”
Sadie frowned. “Wait a minute. You’re saying you met the perfect man at Denny’s? Isn’t that some kind of movie gimmick?”
Jen laughed. “I know, right? Of all places.” She motioned for Sadie to follow and they strolled the perimeter of each half of the club, pausing in places to chat. At seventeen, sneaking in with a fake I.D. , they never did this walking stopping thing. They weren’t alone doing it. The dudes traveled in pairs, hardly looking at each other, eyes on the crowd, searching for a hot target.
“Sadie? Did you hear me?”
“Say it again?” The music ebbed and flowed around her, making her hips move.
“If we get separated, not that we will, but if we do, we meet in the ladies room. Do you remember the lounge? Good. If the club is closing, we meet there. If you need me, text me.”
Sadie nodded, her hips nodding too. “Got it.”
Her body wanted to be out there under the strobe, moving and writhing, disappearing into the beat. But she couldn’t. It was early. The dance floor was too empty for Jen’s taste.
“Seriously, Sadie,” Jen said, a bit slurry now. “No taking candy from strangers. No lost puppy finding. We stay together, okay?”
“Okay. I promise.”
Two martinis later—four for Jen—Sadie itched to dance. They stood at the side of the Ice dance floor, Jen rapt in conversation with one of two guys; the other one kept sending Sadie meaningful smiles.
The dance floor, swirling in azure lights like water under the dancers’ feet, called to her. Bodies moving in short jerky stops and smooth liquid sways. The music thumped through her.
Sadie couldn’t keep faking interest. Her body was sick of standing, her eyes were sick of watching. Screw it. The next great song, she was going out there, Jen or no Jen. The way things were looking, Jen would never dance, making Sadie wonder if she ever did. Her cousin seemed happy to see and be seen.
Not Sadie.
She wanted more. She felt stuck. Would dancing a few feet away, promising to keep within sight, be wrong? A little voice reminded her, there was always the just-in-case clause. They could text, right. And it was only a few feet. Just one song.
The music hummed low in her veins, calling. She let her hips sway to it, closed her eyes for long seconds, allowing the story to sink into her bones.
She snapped her eyes open and looked over. Jen winked her way, then returned to her conversation. The extra guy angled his shoulders her direction, facing her by inches. He nodded his head, drank his beer, looked away. Sadie did the same, her gaze finding the dancing bodies again.
He leaned in. “I love this music,” he shouted.
Sadie nodded reverently. She did too. She smiled. He was tall and handsome in a contained, safe kind of way. She liked it. He smelled nice, too. Spicy. When her brain rushed to dismiss him, comparing him to the incomparable Elijah, she resisted. She buried the name down, his memorable face with it.
What was this guy’s name again? Jake? Drake? Maybe it didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes were on his friend. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was giving him a let’s-move-on kind of stare. Here she’d thought he’d been about to ask her to dance.
Did guys do that at clubs anymore? Was she on her own if she wanted to break girl code of honor and indulge her body’s craving?
Jake returned his attention and rolled his eyes.
“Is it love?” she joked.
“What?”
She waved off her words. His name had to be Jake. He looked like a Jake. Clean cut. All American. He motioned to the dance floor, wanna dance? The tempo felt like it was trying to lift her skirt over her head. The lights flirted with her, the swarm of bodies beckoned.
But Jen’s rule kept her in place. She shrugged a shoulder.
“I can’t dance for shit anyways,” he shouted, leaning in enough to share his cologne with her buzzing senses.
She could see it in his smile; she’d bet money he could dance. “Liar.”
He winked. The challenge incited her. So many people underestimated her. He was toying with fire and had no idea. She could make a man beg if she wanted to. Music spoke to her that deeply.
She glanced at Jen who sent her another apologetic look. Sadie flipped her hair back and called Jake’s weak-ass bluff. The idea of seeing his mouth fall open, hunger in his eyes, hunger for her, for what he’d never get, fed her own hunger to escape into the music.
Adrenaline spun through Sadie. She shifted her hips and sent him a what-the-hell look. The music changed. She didn’t know the song but the beat had a sexy hook. The kind of song she could melt inside.
Sadie didn’t see him follow, but felt him following close behind. The lights flashed and bounced over her skin and vision. Heat radiated out from the crowd. She carved a path to the epicenter. The song quaked into her muscles and took hold. Her hips, her shoulders, her arms and legs swept into sultry movement. He watched her. She moved.
Attention plucked up around her, little by little, like chords. She thrilled in it, feeling the woman she used to be, sexy and free, unencumbered. The outside world disappeared. She could die in this moment, float here forever.
The song ended and Sadie lit back to earth. However pissed off Jen would get over her ditching out, that had been completely worth it. With a laugh, she fanned her face, looking for Jake, trying to orient. She found him standing behind her. He gestured that he’d go get them drinks. She nodded, breathless.
A deep, wondrous satisfaction swam in her veins as she weaved out of the crowded floor. Two long years, she’d been missing this. How many more moments could she devour tonight?
A new song gyrated out of the speakers. Her veins liked it even more than the last and her body agreed. The
upbeat tempo lifted her in a strange euphoric way. The lyrics repeated over and over, caged within the rhythm. The crowd thinned. Sadie peered toward the edge. She couldn’t see Jen.
Guilt pricked at her. But the music lifted again, beating into her. Baby, just come to me. Baby, just come to me. Baby, I love you so, I’ll never let you go. Jen and she would find each other. What could one more little song hurt?
Her heart swept up into the lyrics, aching with meaning. She wanted to laugh and cry and dance all at once. The song bled into the next. The shift in beat brought her down to earth and she glanced through the bodies again, searching for blonde hair, a statuesque physique. And she realized, for dark hair as well. Nearly black, softly curled at the temples. Elijah. She sighed, closing her eyes, and chastised herself. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Her eyes ached to see him, the song bringing back memories of the kisses she dreamed of. Flying skyward in his arms, hope in her heart.
Why did that day have to have been such a disaster? This song would be a nameless emotion if she’d never laid eyes on him. Her heart wouldn’t be aching for a dream. He would be some jerk with a stunning face instead of a too real fantasy adhered to her brain.
She forced her limbs to slow enough to walk through the crowd to the nearest edge. Sweat cooled her neck. Her mouth was dry. Had Jake ever gotten the drinks? No blonde hair, leastwise not belonging to Jen, in sight.
Panic slithered into her belly. What was the backup plan again? Oh yeah. The bathroom. Meet Jen outside the women’s bathroom. Or was it inside? Sadie made her way toward the rear of the club, but it was the front instead. She turned around, walking faster. God, it was hot in here. Her toes pinched in her shoes. Her hands shook as she fanned.
She hadn’t been gone long. Had she? No more than ten, fifteen minutes at most, could have passed since she’d left Jen. Right?
Her throat constricted.
She needed water.
She bypassed the bar, seeing a hallway ahead that gave her hope. Bathrooms. Please be there, please be there. She strode down the dim hallway. Bunches of girls elbowed past her. No Jen. She ducked her head inside the bathroom, surveying the short line. No Jen. “Jen?”
The line of girls turned her way, varying degrees of what-the-fuck on their faces.
“Jen?”
No Jen.
Panic? Not yet. She’d wait for a few minutes, keep her eyes on the club. Maybe she’d spot her, or Jake.
Fifteen minutes and two unanswered texts later, Sadie decided Jen must be in the same spot from before Sadie’d given in to the music’s seduction. Sadie must’ve gotten turned around. If her palms would stop sweating rivers. It wasn’t so surprising or worrisome that Jen hadn’t texted back. She’d been rapt in conversation. The club was loud, dark. Jake probably found them and told Jen she was still dancing.
Two girls brushed past her. “Are you okay?” one asked.
Sadie nodded. She was okay.
Everything was okay.
She would find her cousin. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she arched her feet higher. One turn around the dance floor perimeter couldn’t hurt. She’d look for Jen, come right back here and wait again. She could get some water. The little corridor was hot and was filling with more female bodies by the minute, like their bladders were all in sync. The club would close soon. Wouldn’t it?
She forced her features smooth and attempted to appear impassive. The riot in her stomach certainly showed somewhere in her body language, though. Subterfuge wasn’t her forte. Thankfully, as she weaved in and around the clusters of people, no one particularly noticed.
How could so many blondes be in one place? Jen was distinctive. Wasn’t she? Jen would stand out, like always. The restrooms came back into view. A hollow abyss formed in Sadie’s belly. Dread pooled there, the feeling rising ever so steadily.
One more time. Slower this time. She’d look at the dance floor, too. Blonde after skinny blonde filled her vision. Not Jen. Not her. A flash of luminescent blue caught her attention. Her gaze shot after it. The lights from the dance floor. Couldn’t be what her heart, what her silly brain, had thought. Him. Her dreams. Glowing. Beckoning. Of all times, now was not the time to hallucinate.
Her mind rationalized. She was in a panic and part of her wished for a hero. Someone to come to the rescue and deliver Jen. Logically, her mind would conjure dream Elijah. Because her psyche had developed a hero worship for him powerful enough to make her dream of him almost nightly. Powerful enough to make her a fool in her waking hours over him.
Fool or not, as she zigged and zagged through the crowded periphery, her vision flickered with the same light blue. She stopped short, drawn by impossible hope. A familiar silhouette interrupted the beautiful blue. Her distress dissolved. Shivers raced in her veins.
She didn’t need to discern his features to know, to her core, she saw Elijah.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Eight
Sadie recognized the outline of his body. Her mind knew without a doubt, it was Elijah. Her heart thumped faster. She could swear she saw the curves of two sheer, blue wings just past his broad shoulders. She crept closer, needing to understand what she was seeing. Her insides flipped over. It was as though her dream had materialized and no one saw him but her.
Or could he be real and this was the chance she’d wished for? A second chance at a hot impression?
In a blink, a different face popped in front of her. “There you are,” Jake said, grinning widely and proffering an umbrella-laden drink, unmoved at her startled reaction. He completely blocked her view.
Seeing him reminded her—Jen! Where was she? “Where’s Jen?”
He drank, grinned, nodded.
Had he not heard her? Dread slipped back into place, anchoring Sadie back into reality. “Where’s Jen, my cousin, the one your friend was talking to?” she shouted, leaning in for good measure.
The ice shifted in her glass, the exterior trickled with watery sweat. Her throat tightened. She drank two sips, tasted little to no alcohol, and took three gulps. The cool liquid soothed her throat. Thank God for cold drinks and nice guys.
“Oh, other side, I think. Spencer likes hip-hop. Dancing.” He grinned again.
Having some idea where her cousin was gave her some relief. She looked past Jake for the blue outline of Elijah. Gone. Moments passed and her pulse returned to a near normal rate. Not calm per se, but nowhere near the panic of moments ago. A tinge of unease shifted through her every few seconds, making her feel like an outsider, a fake.
Sadie peered past Jake again. The blue was still gone. Of course it was gone. She sighed and finished her drink, the liquid cooling her burning throat. “Hey, can you help me find Jen? She has my lip-gloss,” she fibbed.
“Sure,” Jake shouted over the music. Maybe he felt the awkwardness, too. He seemed nice enough, a gentleman. He’d brought her a drink, hadn’t he? Waited with her as she stood shifting from one aching foot to another. And he led the way to the other side, held her hand by the fingers, and guided her around the other side of the club.
No Jen.
“Do you see her?” Jake shouted.
Sadie shook her head. “No.”
Not on the Fire side. Not on the Ice. Not in the bathrooms. Jen left her? She couldn’t believe it. Not Jen. Not for a guy she’d only now met. Damn it. The panic awoke again.
What if Jen’s perfect guy had showed? Would she break her own rule?
Her panic returned, bringing a bit of disorientation. Her thoughts didn’t want to be contained. The room of writhing bodies tipped, then righted itself. Her heartbeat drummed at her chest. Heat flashed over her skin. She tried to swallow but gagged instead.
She forced her gaze to Jake. Concern shone in his eyes. “You okay?”
Sadie tried to speak. Her tongue felt fat in her mouth. Weighed down under the dryness. She nodded, pointed toward the door. Fresh air. Water. He could figure that much out, couldn’t he?
He put his arm around her to support her clu
msy limbs. What had she been thinking leaving Jen for one stupid dance? Two! Ugh. Whatever the drink was that Jake had brought her, it was threatening a speedy exit.
She needed air. Now.
“Is she alright?” some distant voice said.
“One too many,” another mocked.
Jake kept onward. Thank God. He’d be cleaning vomit off his lap and shoes if she didn’t get—a blast of air hit her face. Sweet, cold air. Outside. The confines of the club vanished. She pushed at the arm around her, starving for more of the clarity the coolness gave her. Lights and colors blurred. Her stomach wrenched. The arm let go, guiding her to a seat. She sank onto a hard surface. A bench? The nausea eased away, the panic too.
Was she safe then?
“You’re going to be okay,” Jake said. “I found Jen. She’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
He’d found Jen. Safe. Sadie tried to peer through the darkness, but her vision blurred. She couldn’t speak. A fuzzy oblivion edged, closer and closer, until she imagined her body cradled like a babe, her anxiety crooned to sleep.