by I. A. Dice
“I spy with my little eyes something beginning with G.”
Amelia bounced in her seat. “Garden! Ginger!” She looked at me. “Grumpy face!”
“A gun.” Ethan cut in, smiling at Nadia. “My turn. I spy with my little eyes something beginning with C.”
I rolled my eyes. He was overdoing it. “Cutie,” I clipped. “I spy with my little eyes something beginning with J.”
That one was obvious, wasn’t it? Apparently not. At least not for six people sharing the taxi with me. No one guessed, but their turns took the rest of the journey.
We entered the club, and I headed to the bar with Nicholas and Scorpio, leaving the Jerk to follow Nadia to the table, since she was apparently incapable of walking twenty metres without help.
Scorpio watched him, sneering. “That didn’t take long. Were they a thing before Nadia left?”
Nick looked over his shoulder, a soft but sad smile on his lips. “No. He wanted to ask her out, but she was sixteen and not interested in dating. He had a long-term girlfriend later, and when they split up, our dad was already dead, and Nadia was a mess. I guess he wants to make up for lost time, but it doesn’t matter. Nadia will be back with Adrian in no time.”
“She seemed certain that they are over,” I offered.
“I don’t think such a term exists with them. You haven’t seen her with Adrian. He’s the guy. He’s so in love with her he makes me look like an amateur.”
Was it even possible? Nick loved Amelia like a beaten-up stray dog loves a new owner who gives him a cosy bed and an occasional stroke. He loved her more than his work and life combined. Not more than Nadia, but it was still a-fucking-lot.
How could Adrian love Nadia more?
“What can I get you?” A tall, skinny, blonde barmaid stopped in front of me, even though Scorpio was the one to crawl out of his skin to get served.
“A bottle of tequila.”
“And an Appletini.” Nick ordered Amelia’s favourite drink.
Scorpio elbowed me in the ribs, offended that he didn’t get served first. “Two of those.”
“Should I make it three? Does Nadia drink that?”
Truth be told, if it were up to me, I would cut her off. She took a handful of pills and flushing them down with alcohol seemed like a bad idea.
Nick pulled a face. “Not a chance. She’s on tequila for the rest of the night. She can’t mix.”
Noted—no mixing for the baby doll.
Ethan approached when the bartender was finishing up with our order. He raised his chin in greeting, since we haven’t seen each other for five whole minutes, then moved his gaze to the blonde with big boobs.
Was she a sign? A tall, blue-eyed sign telling me to leave my best friend’s sister be, and take her instead somewhere at the back of the building?
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Nadia had issues, and God knew I had enough of my own.
“Two bottles of Corona, one with two pieces of lime,” Ethan ordered.
I used to like the guy. Deep down I still did but damn it, he was getting on my nerves. He was an annoying discomfort like a piece of gum stuck to a shoe, or pigeon crap on a brand new Armani suit, all because he was after the girl I wanted. It wouldn’t be an issue with any other girl, but in this case, Ethan could have Nadia—and I couldn’t.
Nicholas frowned, hinting who the two-pieces-of-lime Corona was for. Pissed off all over again, I snatched the tray with tequila from the countertop and made my way to the table, leaving Nick to cover the bill. I put the tray down and handed a shot to Nadia.
“Drink up, baby doll.”
“Ethan’s getting me a Corona.”
He’ll choke on it later.
I outstretched my hand over the back of her seat and leaned in not to shout over the music. The sweet and spicy smell of her perfume was a strangely satisfying combination. I had the urge to hide my face in the crook of her neck.
“I would rather you didn’t mix.”
Nadia pursed her lips, eyes drilling a hole in me like one of those pneumatic hammers used at road works. She wanted to argue but she downed the shot while holding my gaze.
“Thank you.” I took the empty shot glass from her and placed it back on the tray bottom up.
Amelia and Jane watched me silent, surprised, and confused. I acted oddly around Nadia, but there wasn’t much I could do.
Or could I?
I turned around, scanning the dance floor in search of a perfect blonde who would take my mind off the perfect brunette. The bartender was plausible, but I knew there were prettier girls around.
Nothing had changed since the morning—Nadia was still off-limits, and I still craved her not knowing why. The time had come to take drastic measures, but before I zeroed in on the prey, Alexandra joined the party making my skin crawl.
“There you all are. I have been looking everywhere.” She brought her lips so close to my ear she ended up breathing down my neck. “Good evening,” she murmured.
Creeped out had to be a spot-on definition of my facial expression. I refused to acknowledge her presence when she took a seat and hung her bag over the back of her chair, focusing on me. I didn’t have to see her face to know she watched me with what she considered being cute eyes, but what made her resemble a drugged up Chucky doll.
“There you go, cutie.” Ethan placed a Corona on the table.
Good boy.
He sat down on her left and Nadia smiled with appreciation, reaching for the beer. Her smile slipped when I snatched the bottle first. I brought it to my lips and took a large swig to prove a point.
“Got something you would like to say?”
The death glare on her pretty face was fucking adorable.
“There are many things I would like to say right now.” She extended her arm. “My beer, please.”
“Don’t mix. Please.”
Determination lasted three seconds. She got up, smoothed the white skirt, and took Amelia and Jane to the dancefloor, making me realise I couldn’t watch her from where I sat. Two shots in hands, I moved to an empty seat beside Scorpio.
“You all right?” he asked in a hushed voice, motioning to my clenched fist under the table caused by seeing the Jerk turn in his chair to watch Nadia. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m good.”
“You can’t lie for shit, mate,” Scorpio scoffed. “Why her? And don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. You haven’t taken your eyes off her all evening.”
I should have expected he would be the one to notice and figure out the reason behind my weird behaviour. He knew me well. He knew me before Nick did, and way before my life turned into a pile of regrets and a guilty conscience.
I shook my head to show I had no fucking idea why of all people it had to be her.
“Whatever the reason, you better get a grip and forget about it.” He motioned to Nick. “He would have your balls in a blender.”
I smirked. He had a point. Nick was capable of crazy shit. I partied with him enough times after he had a row with Mel to know. Whenever the two of them argued, Nick called Scorpio, Ethan, and me and we hit the clubs so he could get wasted. The problem was that once he was past a certain level of alcohol in his blood, Nick was out of control. He even got locked up a few times, and I had to lie to Mel and pick up his sorry ass from the police station in the morning.
Yeah, that blender thing would happen if I touched Nadia, and since I planned on it, it seemed like a good idea to wave bye-bye to my balls. I would miss them one day, but the brain in my pants didn’t care.
CHAPTER 4
NADIA
The right push
Sean Paul’s get busy reverberated through the place when Jane, Amelia and I found a square meter of space on the dance floor. Jane had the moves of a stripper—sexy, and a little too out there, but she kept safe, pushing guys away whenever they got too close. She glanced at the table every so often, where Scorpio kept an eye on her.
Amelia’s moves w
ere less provoking, not attracting as much attention, but it didn’t stop my brother from making sure she was okay. Their protectiveness reminded me of the times I used to go out with Adrian. He was just like them, but more.
I sat on Adrian’s laps, snuggled to his chest, with my legs sprawled on the couch and a bottle of Corona in hand, watching the partygoers while he talked to his best friend Ty.
The music was loud, the frat guys played beer pong, and ultraviolet lights danced across the crowded room. People danced wherever they could, and my friend, Jasmine, was waving me over for the past ten minutes to come and join her and three of her friends.
It had been four weeks since Adrian and I started dating, and this was the first party we came to together. Adrian was known around campus. Anyone who was anyone heard rumours about the up-and-coming boxer.
He pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck, and despite the loud music, I heard him inhale. “Go,” he said, tucking my hair away. “Have fun, puppet.”
I shook my head, eyeing the crowd of drunk guys hitting on anything that moved. “I’ll pass. They aren’t dancing. Guys just want to get laid, and girls try not to get groped.”
Ty chuckled, and we both looked at him.
“No one will try to grope you, Nadia. They know that if they cross you, they cross Adrian, and no one here will risk a one-on-one with him.”
Adrian smirked, nodding. “Go. I’ll keep an eye on you, puppet.”
Jasmine waved at me again, and I downed the rest of the beer, and got up. Adrian caught my hand, his eyebrow raised.
“You haven’t kissed me.”
A wave of heat spilled inside me, my heart swelling. I loved that about Adrian—he had no trouble showcasing his feelings. Most guys avoided public displays of affection, but he was different—confident and affectionate.
“Kiss me,” he urged, pulling on my hand.
I bent down pressing my lips to his, endorphins flooding my system.
Reality slapped me across the face when someone’s arms wrapped around me from behind. Panic kicked in first, leaving no room for rational thinking. I jumped away and spun around, my body rigid, heart thumping. A blond guy stood there; a beer in hand. He frowned when I shook my head.
He emptied half of the bottle, looked me up and down again, and smiled, taking a step forward and risking another rejection.
“No,” I exclaimed. “Find a different girl.”
Either he thought I was joking, or the amount of alcohol in his body tampered with his ability to comprehend what I said because he caught my hand again. I snatched it away and turned to leave, all the while trying to calm down and not let my past ruin the present.
The psychiatrist back in New York encouraged me to take opportunities and face my fears. Ignoring my heart, which was on its way to my throat, I stomped my foot and turned around.
My muscles turned to stone when he smiled. Not waiting for another change of mind on my part, he caught my waist, pulling me closer. A strong scent of booze fanned my face, mixing with cologne and cigarette smoke. I spun around, pressing my back to his chest, thinking It would be easier if I didn’t see his face. He draped one hand across my collarbones and hid his face in my hair.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. It’s just a dance.
Not enough time had passed yet, and I hadn’t learnt to deal with and control my fear, but I was determined not to let my mind trap me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t fool my instincts. When his hands slipped lower, to my stomach, and kept travelling south, I jumped away again, feeling nauseous.
“Oops, sorry,” he chuckled.
It looked like he wasn’t sure what happened. He had a strong Scottish accent and smelled as if it was St. Patrick’s Day. He caught my wrist not giving me enough time to decide whether to stay or run.
Run.
“Let me go!”
“Oh, come on,” he chuckled, swaying to the rhythm. “Let’s dance.”
Just when I freed myself from his grip, a clenched fist shot past my head, landing on the Scotsman’s face. He barely stood as it was, and all it took was one punch to bring him to his knees. Blood gushed from his nose turning his white T-shirt crimson.
I spun around to see the owner of the fist.
Thomas stood much closer than I expected to find him. And he was raging. His cinnamon eyes watched the drunk Scotsman with what could only be described as pure hatred. His jaw worked while he gritted his teeth, looking ready to move in with another blast.
Then he looked at me, and hatred turned to worry.
“You okay?”
What surprised me was that he didn’t try to touch me. He kept at a distance, waiting for my move. The kiss he pressed to my hand at the parking lot flashed before my eyes first, and the scene of us sitting so close to each other in Nick’s back garden followed.
We spent most of the evening sitting shoulder to shoulder, and he kept his hand on the back of my chair the whole time, but not once have I had the urge to move away despite not being comfortable when my own brother was near me.
I took a wary step forward and placed my trembling hand on Thomas’s chest, curious if I would want to move away or not. He struck me as a guy who lost control often and took pride in smashing someone’s face every now and then. He glanced at my hand resting on his torso, and his muscles relaxed under my touch.
Fear left my mind faster than it did after the pills.
“Thank you,” I whispered knowing he couldn’t hear me, but he seemed to have read my lips.
His cheek brushed against mine when he leaned forward, bringing his mouth close to my ear. “The pleasure is mine, baby doll.”
A blush heated my face. I held his gaze when he inched away.
“Dance with me,” I blurted out.
There was something about him that put my mind at ease. I wanted to have him closer and feel the fear evaporate, even though I didn't understand why my subconscious didn’t mind his closeness.
J. Balvin and Safari started playing and my hips swayed to the rhythm while I waited for Thomas to make his mind up. Dancing used to be my favourite thing to do. Problems lost their meaning for a few minutes when I danced. And tonight, I wanted to be free again.
Seconds passed with a silent Thomas watching me. I expected him to shoot me down, but he straightened up and caught my hand, lacing our fingers as if he had done it a thousand times before. And still—no trace of fear in my head. We pressed through the crowd of sweaty bodies to stop a few feet away from the DJ station, out of our friends’ view.
Music alone was enough to push away the grim memories that returned thanks to the Scotsman, but it didn’t work as well as Thomas did. The moment he drew me in, pressing his forehead to mine was the moment my past faded, leaving nothing but a blur.
“Don’t run,” he said. “I won’t do anything you won’t let me.”
I nodded, having no intention of running. Passing on the opportunity to feel safe was impossible.
Thomas moved one hand to my hip, then pressed the other to my back and drew me in as close as he could … as if he needed me as much as I needed him in that moment. His impulsiveness, skills, and the touch of his body against mine. Much time had passed since the last time I let anyone touch me like that. I looked into his eyes, picked up his rhythm, and travelled back to the times when I was just an ordinary girl.
The pace of the song changed, and Thomas turned me around, pressing my back flush against his chest.
“Close your eyes,” he said in my ear, “and imagine we’re alone.”
Strong hands rested on my stomach when the bass reverberated through my body. My eyes closed, and it changed a great deal in the way I experienced the moment. The music was all I heard; Thomas’s body all I felt, and the delicate fluttering of a single butterfly’s wings in my stomach turned into the fluttering of a thousand insects.
We moved in sync, dancing, being. My head rested on his shoulder, and his hand travelled up to my throat. He caught me gently, pressing his long fingers to my
flesh, and holding the other hand across my stomach. He hung his head low, hiding his face in the crook of my neck, breathing in a slow, shaky breath.
Pleasant cramps started in my stomach, and my limbs relaxed.
That was all it took for me to lose myself in the music and in him. No wonder he was such a player. I met him twelve hours earlier and already had a hard time resisting his charm, although for much different reasons than the herds of women he slept with.
Another Latin song played next, and we danced through that one and two more before Thomas rested his hand on my lower back, steering me to our table.
“Where were you?” Nick asked not waiting until we sat down.
“He offered to be my date for your wedding and said he could dance,” I explained. “I don’t buy a pig in a poke. I had to check if he can, in fact, dance.”
Thomas scoffed, but his dark eyes said something other than amusement. He outstretched his hand over the back of my chair, making himself comfortable.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
“You’ll do.”
A smirk was his only answer.
“Who was that guy you KO-ed before?” Scorpio motioned to the crowd.
Thomas shrugged. “No idea.”
“Okay, so what did he do?”
“He didn’t understand when Nadia said no. Looked like he needed the right push.”
“Or punch,” I corrected, and turned to Thomas, who tried to get my attention by brushing his fingertips against my shoulder.
“You’re tougher than you look, I’ll give you that,” he said, pointing to my wrist with a smile. “Next time … shoot the asshole.”
Nick and Mel hit the dancefloor, and as if encouraged, Ethan rose to his feet, holding his hand out to me. “Come on, cutie. Let’s dance.”
Having known him for five years I knew he was harmless, but dancing required the kind of closeness I had trouble handling. Still, after dancing with Thomas, refusing Ethan would raise questions, trigger unwanted suspiciousness, and give Thomas the wrong idea.