“So has your name changed at all?”
Ryan’s voice snaps me out of my trance. I don’t say anything, and I’m just sitting there quietly for a moment to come back to.
Ryan goes on asking, “I mean Ariel. Is that your last name?”
I shake my head a little, trying to find the words to speak. “No, it’s my middle name actually. My last name is Mancini.”
Ryan nods then takes a drink and then he says, “Cool.”
I’m starting to squirm a little. I’m going to finish this beer; then, I’m going to make up some excuse to leave. Yes, that sounds good. Tristan stretches out his arms, laying them flat on the table when he’s done and starts talking to his band on what he thinks could be used in the next show. Really? I mean, I’m all for being professional, but we just did our show. Time to unwind and fucking relax a little. I look over to Jared, rolling my eyes and sticking my lips out, mocking Tristan.
“Is something the matter?” Tristan’s deep voice causes me to jump. Jared starts laughing at me, and I just sit there for a moment. For some stupid reason, I thought that when I turn my back away from him, he wouldn’t be able to see me. “No. Nothings the matter.” I turn back toward him a little, clearing my throat. I give him my little sassy, teasing grin. The alcohol is definitely making me cockier now.
Tristan narrows his eyes at me, but he is starting to have this half smile form on his beautiful lips. While the other guys pick up on conversation again, Tristan leans into me and whispers in my ear. “Then why the fuck were you mocking me?” He slowly pulls back from me, placing his left arm behind me and resting it on the booth. Now I feel intimated, but I don’t want him to see that. Straightening myself up and squaring my shoulders, I look him dead in the eyes. “Well, maybe because you dedicated fucking harlot about me.” I quirk my eyebrow up at him and cross my arms, and doing so pushed my breasts up even more. I notice his eyes moving down to my chest, and he slowly licks his bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth. His eyes slowly graze my chest for a moment longer before making their way back up to meet mine again. Fuck me running. Okay, I think I should go and use the bathroom now. This is just getting too intense for me to even handle now. Trying to speak, I manage to get out quietly. “I need to use the restroom. May you let me out please?” Tristan just stares blankly at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking right now. “Go ahead. I’m not stopping you.” Um . . . I think this requires him to—I don’t know—move the fuck out of my way! “Well, actually, you are. You see, you need to move out of my fucking way.” Holy shit! I can’t believe I was so bold just now, but it felt good. Tristan’s eyes widened, and humor is now on his face. He starts shaking his head softly and says, “Climb over me if you have to go that bad.” What! I’m not climbing across his stuck-up ass. He just wants to put me in an embarrassing position by either crawling across him or asking the other guys to all get out. So I do the immature thing. Something I did all the time whenever I was out eating with my parents at restaurants when I was younger. I start scooting to my knees below the table. Tristan has this surprised look on his face, and Jared’s looking at me like “What the fuck are you doing?” Everyone else doesn’t seem to notice. They were all getting too smashed, and they’re partying hard now.
I have all these knees in my back, and Tristan’s knee in my face. I hear Jared laughing from up the table. Tristan peeks his head under the table and gives me this cocky smile. “You should have told me, Sophia, that you wanted out. It would have been much easier for you than doing it that way.” Motherfucker! I did say I wanted out. He’s just putting on a show ’cause of Jared being right there. As I get on all fours, I punch Tristan’s shin. But all that did was hurt my hand. Ouch! “What the fuck!” Tristan starts bellowing with laughter, but I’m pissed. I crawl my way out of the table. The floor feels so gross on my palms. Hurrying up and trying hard not to rub into anybody, I make my way out of the table.
Once I’m out, I look up and see Matt staring at me while I’m on my hands and knees. I didn’t know what else to do but plaster a cheesy smile on my face. Matt’s eye widens too and looks shocked to see me like this. Oh, great. I know this doesn’t look entirely good. Matt bends his head down and whispers to me. “What the fuck are you doing underneath the table, Sophia?” I give Matt this look with my eyes that says please don’t ask me questions as I bite my bottom lip. He shakes his head and takes a drink from his beer. After he sets his bottle down real quick, he extends his hand out for me to grab. Taking hold of Matt’s hand, he steadies me to my feet.
Standing up, I start dusting myself off. “Yo! How the fuck did you get there, Sophie Mophie?” Roger stops mid-sentence with the other guys and stares at me. “You’re like fucking Houdini. I didn’t notice you even leaving the table. Shit, I didn’t realize I was that drunk yet!” Roger starts laughing; then, he waves for the waitress to come back over. Before walking away, I stop and turn to my right and very discreetly, I raise my middle finger at Tristan. He flashes this huge, all-teeth smile at me. I give him one more glare, and I start heading my way toward the restrooms. I’m just so annoyed right now; I’m seeing red. It’s definitely killing my buzz. To top it all off, he didn’t even explain to me why he pulled that little harlot stunt tonight.
After using the restroom, I scrub the hell out of my hands. After being on that gross floor, my hands feel sick. I dry them off and look at myself in the mirror. I’m a little flushed-looking now, but that could be because of the booze or Tristan working me up. I notice that my eyeliner ran a smidge, so I take my fingers and gently wipe away the black residue from under my eyes. Thankfully, everything else still looks good. Okay, when I get back out there, I won’t let that asshole ruin my night. This is my first night out in a while, and we just finished our first show. So I’m celebrating, damn it! I will have just a couple more beers then back to the hotel I go.
I start walking toward the door, and right before I push it open, I let out a breath that my lungs must have been holding in. Shit! I guess I’m pretty drunk already. As I walk back into the VIP room, I instantly notice Frankie standing up at the bar. Thank God!
Squeezing my way through the now crowded area of people dancing, I can literally hear Roger’s laugh all the way over here. I look over at him and see him having a good time, and that puts a smile on my face. I’m so proud of all my boys tonight.
Coming up to the bar, I poke Frankie in his right side. “Where have you been?” I ask him. He looks over his shoulder at me, and his face immediately lights up, showing off his teeth and his full lips. Frankie loves his lip injections. “I had other . . . Arrangements to tend to.” Frankie has this mischievous grin on now.
“Ohh . . . Did you get some, Frank-ie?” I slurred a little bit, and that made me start laughing.
Frankie gives me this curious look and asks, “Girl, are you fucked up right now?”
“Nope! Not yet, but getting there.”
Frankie leans into me and says, “Well, let’s just see about that, shall we?” He turns to the bar and waves his hand at one of the female bartenders. She looks up at him through long dark bangs and wipes the counter down real quick before making her way over.
“I’m gonna need a shot of Grey Goose and . . . ” He looks back over to me. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”
“Coors light, please,” I tell him. Frankie rolls his eyes and continues our orders with the bartender. “And one dirty Coors light. Wait a second . . . make those two shots of Grey Goose.” He glances down at me with his dirty little smirk like he has something planned up his sleeve. Oh, no. I don’t know about this.
“I don’t think that’s gonna work too well. You see, I’m already drunk and have been drinking tequila, gin, and beers all night so far . . . ”
“I think the idea was to get you wasted girl.” Fuck me!
Chapter Nine
The bartender returns with the two shots of vodka and my beer. Frankie pushes some cash at her then nods. I reach out with both hands and grab
my shot and beer from the counter. He reaches for his shot with one hand, and with the other, he picks up his Bloody Mary that he already must have ordered before I came out of the bathroom. “Okay, here’s to the start of a fan-fucking-tastic friendship.” Frankie raises his shot glass against mine, and we down our shots. If I was sober, I probably would have felt the burning from the vodka a little more; but with my buzz on, it’s less noticeable. “So . . . Having a good time so far, sweetie?” Frankie is now sipping on his drink with his dainty, well-manicured pinkie sticking out every time he takes a drink.
I find myself rolling my eyes when Frankie asks me how my night was going. Frankie narrows his eyes, peeling the pickle out of his drink. He starts pointing the pickle from his drink at me and begins to say, “Girl, let me tell you something, mmm-kay? If you rolled your eyes because of who I think it is, then you just need to step up. Don’t let him ruin your night or this whole experience for you. All right, girl?”
I couldn’t help my laughter. Frankie was trying to be a little serious with me, but all I can focus on was his damn pickle flopping all over the place when he spoke. He must have noticed it too because he looks down at it and bites the end off, giggling when he does.
I cast my glance over at the booth; all the guys were still there, minus Cory and Caleb. But now, I notice one of the blondes from earlier tonight that was with Tristan is back. She is squeezing into the booth with Tristan, and for some fucking reason, I hate it. Turning back to Frankie, I decide to ask him if he wants to go dance. “Hey, Frankie, do you wanna dance?” Frankie starts nodding his head slowly and grabs
55 my hand. “I thought you’d never ask. Let’s go downstairs, more people.” He points over the balcony, and I agree and follow him to the elevator. We approach the dance floor, and its packed! It’s a sweet dance floor with the blue lights underneath making it almost look like you’re dancing on water. The kind of lights they had underneath are made up of different shades of blue and they move in what looks like a rolling motion. It’s pretty fucking sweet but definitely not a good thing to keep staring into when you’re drunk.
Frankie takes hold of my hand and starts pushing through the crowd. I’m following behind him, trying not to fall flat on my face. Wait! I don’t mind dancing at the edge of the dance floor, but he’s taking us to the center. Figures. Frankie, from what I’ve gathered, loves attention.
He drops my hand and whips around. Placing one hand on my right hip, he pulls me close against his lean body and starts to move. I don’t really listen to modern day dance stuff, but the song on isn’t that bad. The bass is pumping through the speakers that are surrounding the entire dance floor—the whole club, for that matter.
My body is feeling warm and fuzzy from the drinks, but now I can feel the music start to take its effect on it, too. My hips start to move to the rhythm of the music. I raise my arms above my shoulders and close my eyes, feeling every beat run through me.
I start rolling my chest every so often, and Frankie does the same with his on me. By looking at it, you wouldn’t be able to tell that Frankie is gay with how he’s dancing with me. He’s such a good dancer, which is a bonus for me, because it makes it easier for me to follow his lead.
We are now on our third song, and I can’t get enough of dancing. Frankie is the best person to party with; he’s carefree, funny, and dances extremely well. Having a flamboyantly gay friend is totally fucking awesome. I feel like I can pick him up and place him right on my bed at night. Just like a little girl would do with her favorite doll. That’s how Frankie is to me. Only, I’m his doll really because he’s my stylist; and he does such a damn good job at it, too.
I can feel my footing isn’t at all the greatest right now with these heels and the buzz I have going. I lost my balance a couple times already, but Frankie leans in and saves me every time. So I decide to turn my body around and push my back up to his front. I start swaying my body down his with my hips. He starts moving back with his body, going side to side. I would almost feel uncomfortable doing this kind of dancing with someone else, but . . . It’s Frankie and he’s gay, so it’s okay.
Making my way back up his body, doing the same moves that I did going down, my arms reaching up and rubbing his chest with my hands, I turn to face him again. His face is splitting with his grin, and he shakes his head. Just then, I feel arms circling around my waist, pulling me away. I abruptly turn around to see who’s grabbing me. What the fuck! Some random guy, who looks like Rico fucking Suave, is trying to rub up on me. I don’t think so! I was getting ready to push the motherfucker off and tell him to get lost when Frankie steps in. He pushes the guy away and yells, “Back off, bitch!” Wow! Frankie being all dominant and shit. I never even knew he had that side to him before.
He grabs my hand and starts to lead me off the dance floor. I would’ve taken care of it. I would’ve just peeled my heel off and slapped the fucker in the face with it. But I guess this is the more subtle way of handling it.
“Want a drink?” Frankie’s fanning himself with his dark silk buttondown shirt. “Um . . . I guess?” I don’t really need one anymore. I’m pretty drunk as it is but thirsty as hell from dancing. “Actually, can you get me water? I will grab a beer when we head back up.” Frankie smiles at me then leans in at the bar.
I turn back around, facing the dance floor again. I would have to guess that there’s about two hundred people—maybe even more—on the first level alone. This place is definitely intense!
Frankie hands me my drink and downs two shots for himself. Licking the vodka off his lips, he asks me, “Ready?” Then we’re back out dancing again.
After a couple more songs, I was ready to sit down again and have a beer. Right as we’re heading off the floor, a familiar tune starts to pump through the speakers. I stop suddenly, pulling Frankie to a halt. He notices the familiar tune too and begins to jump a couple of times and starts clapping. It’s Marky Mark’s “Good Vibrations.” And I don’t care what other people may think of this song. This is dancing music, for sure. Excitedly, I pull Frankie back with me and we bounce, grind, and move our arms up in the air to the song.
By the time the song is over, Frankie and I start heading back to the VIP area. “I need to tinkle,” Frankie whispers in my ear. He starts making his way to the restrooms. He stops and turns around and yells, “Get us a round!” I shake my head okay at him and smile.
I ordered our drinks, and I’m just standing there waiting for them to be made. I can see that none of the guys are in the booth anymore. They’re all lingering and mingling around. As I watch the bartender prepare Frankie’s Bloody Mary, I can feel this warm presence right behind me. Tristan’s deep voice whispers into my ear, causing me to still. His lips tickle my earlobe and sends shivers down my spine. “Having fun?” I spin around, brushing up against him. Fuck! He is right on me.
Looking up at him through my lashes, I just give him a silent nod with a closed-mouth smile. I go back to facing the bar again, but Tristan is still standing behind me. Damn it! What is he doing right here? Especially behind me like this? It’s less crowed at the other end of the bar. I feel him press his hard chest closer to my back. He speaks up to the bartender, who was all in favor of dropping her other duties to come over here and to take Tristan’s order. Leaning down on me, he orders. “Can I get a scotch?”
Looking back up to him, his eyes are dark and dangerous-looking. Must be from the booze he’s drinking. I think? I don’t know if I’m freaking out or not, but I swear I thought I could see something more in them. I’m just not sure what it is.
His strong arms are tight against his gray short-sleeved T-shirt. The way he crosses them in front of his chest is causing his tattoos to stretch against his muscles. The sight of that alone makes me want to do some very bad things to him. The way his hair is tousled, falling around the sides of his broad face. I hate to admit it because he’s such a dick, but damn . . . Being drunk and not having gotten laid since my ex and I broke up almost a year ago is maki
ng me so horny right now. Not a good thing to be feeling around Tristan right now. “So you dance?” I turn around to face him, with our bodies only a few inches apart. I give him a puzzled look. “I noticed you dancing down there. You look pretty good dancing.” As of right now, I’m in a small state of shock. Usually, only insults would come out of his mouth; but Tristan’s saying I look good dancing. It makes me feel nervous and excited all at the same time. He was watching me dance? And for how long? “Cat got your tongue?” he asks, leaning into me more. His eyes are searching mine. Shit! I’m so out of it right now. Tristan threw me offtrack with him telling me I’m good at dancing; now I don’t know how to act or speak.
Shaking my head slightly, I reach for my drink. After I take a drink, I glance back up at him. I feel so incredibly vulnerable right now as he towers over me, and I don’t really like it. “Uh yeah, thanks. Honestly, I’m just drunk right now or my ass wouldn’t even be out there.” I giggle to myself for being so honest and modest with him. As I mention the word “ass” to him, I notice Tristan taking a few steps back and checking out my body. What the fuck is going on right now? Did he really just check me out? “Well I think you should have your ass out there more often.” He growls low at me. He’s so calm right now that I can’t tell if he’s being serious or just fucking around.
Tristan reaches in and grabs his drink off the bar. While reaching in, I feel him brush up against me again. Is he doing this shit on purpose? I feel lightheaded from his proximity to me. I really can’t handle this right now. I’m drunk and obviously turned on. And I have hot asshole Tristan standing here right in front of me—which I believe, now, that maybe he’s starting to flirt with me. That reminds me. Where is fucking Frankie when I need him? “Yeah, well I don’t really go to clubs often so . . . And besides, weren’t you the one that called me a harlot? For dressing and dancing this way on stage earlier tonight? Isn’t that kind of being hypocritical?” I ended up sounding a little bitchy when I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. But after I threw that back in his face, he begins to have this arrogant smile starting to play on him.
Everything I Want Page 6