"I want to dance," I lied. Really, it was just that I didn't want to have to look cute for him or anyone. I didn't want to smile or try to be witty. Angel was gorgeous and sweet, and there was no way I was gonna sit there and be bummed out in front of him.
"I'll dance with you," he said. He gestured over my shoulder to the bar—the one I'd been intending to go to in order to get rid of him. "Let's get a drink and then we'll dance a little till your ride gets back."
I stared up at his flawless face, thinking there was no way I had the energy to act like I was in a good mood. "Look. I lied when I said I wanted to dance. I really just want to go home."
He looked at me with a concerned expression. "I can drive you," he said.
I shook my head. "I don't need you to do that," I said. "I'm sure Megan won't be too long."
"I'm waiting with you," he said. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in the direction of the bar. "Come on. You don't have to talk to me or anything. I just don't want you to be down here alone."
"I'm not scared," I assured him. "And I know not to take a drink from anyone."
He acted like he didn't even hear me. He just kept right on walking with me in his grasp. "What are you having?" he asked when we reached the bar.
"Uh, I don't really…" I hesitated. I was a lightweight, and if I planned on driving in a few minutes, it'd probably be wise for me to have a Shirley Temple. But part of me really wanted a drink.
I must have hesitated too long because he turned and ordered something before I had time to decide what to do. Before I knew it, he was handing me something in a martini glass. I was almost positive it was unwise for me to drink it but was glad he had made the decision for me. It was fruity, but not too sweet, and I looked at him with a smile as I tasted it.
"You like?" he glanced at the bartender with a thumbs up. "She likes it," he said. The drink was so delicious that I drank the entire thing within a matter of a couple of minutes. "Do you want another?" Angel asked as he took my glass and reached through a few people to set it on the bar.
"Definitely not," I said, blinking. Until that very moment, I hadn't realized how much that first one hit me. "I think that was a strong drink," I said. I could feel the effects of the alcohol, like a warm current was coursing through my body, loosening my joints, muscles, and lips.
He smiled down at me. "It's good to see you smiling," he said.
I stopped smiling that very instant. Starting to have fun was just about the last thing I needed right then.
He scowled at me. "Put it back," he said. "You're going to be waiting either way. You might as well enjoy yourself."
I smiled. "You know what? You're right." I glanced around. "You wanna dance?"
He didn't answer, he just swallowed the remainder of his drink and set his glass on the bar. He reached for my hand and I gave it to him. We walked toward the dance floor holding hands, and at first it seemed really clinical like I was touching my brother or friend. Then, about halfway to the dance floor, I became acutely aware of his big warm hand wrapped around mine. He absentmindedly moved his fingers, and the feel of his touch made a wave of butterflies hit me.
I pulled my hand out of his as soon as that ache hit my gut. He glanced back to see if I was still following, and I used that moment to take my phone out of my skirt pocket and slip it into my purse. That, like the lip-gloss, was a procedure that didn't need to happen, but I needed the excuse to break contact. I glanced at my phone one more time as I put it in my purse, hopeful that Connor might've messaged saying he could make it after all. Nope. Nothing. But you know what? I didn't care all that much. The music was amazing, and I was beginning to feel really good from that drink.
The club we were in was called The Dive, and it was an underwater theme. The dance floor was on top of a huge aquarium, and I looked down to see a hammerhead shark swimming below my feet. It was impressive for sure, and I knew there was no reason I shouldn't have fun for a dance or two while I waited for Megan.
Angel turned around once he found us a little open spot on the floor, and then pulled me into his arms. I stiffened at first, but loosened up once he started moving to the beat. He didn't hold onto me very long, but I stayed close to him and started to move as well.
"I like the hammerheads," he said, yelling over the music. "I always dance on this side since that's where they hang out." People were everywhere. Girls bumped into him, and the way they looked at him made it seem like it wasn't an accident.
"They're really cool," I said, moving closer to him so it wasn't such a mystery that he had a dance partner. "My cousin told me about this place, but I didn't imagine that the aquariums would be this big. It's like Ripley's."
I could tell by his expression that he had no idea what Ripley's was, but a crowded dance floor wasn't really the place to discuss tourists attractions.
"Megan never brought you here?" he asked.
"I just moved here like ten minutes ago."
He pulled me close to him using a hand around the small of my back. I wanted to resist, and I blame the alcohol for this, but it felt good. His movements were slight, but I could tell he had good rhythm, and right then, I just wanted to be held.
"Welcome to Miami, then. This club is a good one for your first night. It's my favorite."
We didn't say anything for the next ten minutes at least. We danced to three songs in a row, and by the time the third one faded into the fourth, Angel and I were basically glued to each other. Somewhere during the forth song his thigh made its way between my thighs. It felt so good that I forgot I shouldn't let him do it. Instead of gasping and fleeing the scene, I held onto him and enjoyed the feel of his leg against my most sensitive area. We hadn't said a word to each other since we talked about this being his favorite club, so when he leaned down and said, "Megan's here, but please don't leave," it was like I was coming out of some kind of trance. How did I ever think it was okay to grind against his leg like that?
I pulled back to regard him, and he looked at me with a neutral expression which shifted into a half-smile. "You leaving?"
I glanced over my shoulder. "Where'd you see Megan?"
"I just saw her and Rory over there," he said, pointing toward the hallway that led to the booth. Both of us were standing still, and I looked up at him wondering what to say.
"I'm sorry I danced like that with you," I said, feeling a slight sense of guilt.
"Sorry for what?" he asked. He was standing right next to me, and I had to look up to see him. Before I knew what was happening, he reached down and put a tiny little kiss on my lips. To my own horror I kissed him back. I felt my lips pucker and go toward him, and I was utterly helpless to stop myself. My eyes got wide when I realized what had just happened. I thought I should run for the hills, but all I could do was stare at his lips. Was I so anxious to see Connor that any old set of lips would do? But that wasn't any old set of lips. I traced the curve of his upper lip with my eyes, feeling some pleasure when I noticed a tiny patch of lip-gloss on them. I smiled and reached up to wipe it off.
"You can't be wearing lip-gloss when we go to the booth."
"I think it looks fine as long as it's a good, even coat," he said. And in the blink of an eye, his lips were on mine again. He kissed me gently and briefly, but this time, I lifted onto my toes as he broke away in an effort to prolong the contact. What in the world was wrong with me? What kind of floozy would enjoy kissing a random stranger when her very wonderful boyfriend was at home with his sick grandmother? I sunk my head into my hand and he used a finger to push my chin up.
"Hey, don't worry about it," he said.
"I've got a boyfriend," I said.
"And I'm not trying to mess with that," he said, raising a hand in surrender. "It's just that you're so beautiful and it looked like you needed to be kissed."
"It's probably just that we've both been drinking."
"Maybe for you but not for me," he said. "I'm afraid I don't have an excuse. I just wanted to kiss you.
" He smiled. "I knew you had a boyfriend, though. I should have restrained myself. I'm sorry."
We stood on the dance floor, yelling over the music. "Don't be sorry," I said. "It's no big deal."
And there it was again. His mouth was on mine. My knees felt like they might give out as a wave of desire came crashing over me, but he only held the contact for a second. His lips were warm and soft, and I caught myself wishing he'd left them there for longer than a second. "Why do you keep doing that?" I asked, scowling.
He smiled. "You said I shouldn't be sorry—that it was no big deal."
"That didn't mean I wanted you to do it again."
He stared at me and I glanced down shyly and bit at my bottom lip. He gave me a quick sharp squeeze and said something in Spanish. "I'll walk you up to the booth," he said, in English.
I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, which I knew was ludicrous. "That's probably a good idea," I said.
Chapter 3
Angel and I left the dance floor, headed for the booth. Several people I didn’t recognize had joined the party. It was so loud and hectic up there that nobody even noticed we walked in together. I went straight over to Rory and Megan who were sitting on the couch that lined the wall on the right. Megan's eyes lit up when she saw me. I smiled back, but quickly asked for her keys so I could go home.
She was worried about me at first, and almost made me let her and Rory drive. By the end of the conversation I convinced her I was fine and that I just wanted to go home and unpack a little bit, which was the truth. She was happy to loan me her car since she wanted to ride with Rory anyway. We talked for ten minutes or so before I decided it was probably time for me to get out of there. No one mentioned me walking in with Angel or seeing us out on the dance floor—a fact for which I was thankful since I needed to forget any of that ever happened. We already established Rory would walk me to Megan's car when I left. I didn't want him to have to do that, but he and Megan wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Are ye ready?" Rory asked in his Irish accent.
"I think so, but you don't have to walk me. I'll be fi—"
"He's walking you," Megan insisted. "There's a ton of horniness between here and my car."
I laughed. "Horniness?"
"This guy here's an expert on it," she said, glancing over my shoulder. I turned to find Angel, who'd up until that point had been busy talking to Tom.
"What am I an expert on?" he asked, innocently, "Kettlebells?"
Megan and Rory both laughed, but I just watched.
"She was talking about yer man-whore habits," Rory said. "We were just tellin' her that she needed me to walk her out if she didn't want to get hit on between here and the door."
"Nobody's gonna hassle me if I just keep my head down and walk out," I said. It was the truth. Maybe it was different for the hot looking model-type girls they were used to, but guys didn't usually trip over themselves to hit on me.
"I'm walking her out," Angel said, looking surprised, as if we should have just assumed that were the case. "I thought you guys would want to catch up," he said, gesturing to Rory and Megan, "and I don't have anything else to do. I knew she was leaving and just assumed I'd walk her out." He said it so casually, that Rory shrugged and regarded me like it might be a good idea.
"Are ye good with Angel walking ye out?"
"We can do it," Megan said, looking at Angel.
"Just let me," he said. "I'm going down there anyway."
"Going to say 'hi' to the hammerheads?" Megan asked, giggling at him.
I liked seeing her joking around with these guys. It made me feel like she was really comfortable with them. On a better night, I would've stayed and hung out, but I was tired and already set on going home.
"I'm gonna head on out," I said hoping to stay on track and actually leave this time.
"Do you mind if Angel walks you out?" she asked, gesturing to him. "Because we don't mind at all."
I shook my head. "It doesn't matter."
Angel and I left, headed for the door. We didn't speak to each other until we made it outside. There was really no point since we would have just been yelling anyway. The first thing he said was in Spanish, and it took me a second to realize he was speaking to one of the bouncers. The guy laughed and responded in Spanish before Angel said in English that he'd be right back.
"We joked about the guy he's working with," Angel said.
I glanced back to see that there were two bouncers—the guy he laughed with, who was Latino, and a big burly white guy with no hair on head and a dark goatee. "The white guy is so intense about checking ID's and following all of the rules that we joke in Spanish about him doing just the opposite. I told him that girl Carl was letting in was sixteen, and he said she was the tenth underage girl he'd let slip by."
"What if somebody overhears you and understands Spanish?" I asked. "Couldn't he get in trouble?"
Angel laughed. "We'd obviously just tell them we're joking if it ever came up, but it won't. Everyone knows how hardcore Carl is."
"You're on a first name basis with the bouncers?" I asked.
"I've been here a few times, and Tom knows everybody, so he introduced us."
"What are you gonna do when you go back in there?" I asked. We were walking down the sidewalk when I said it, and he glanced at me curiously. "I don't know why I asked that," I said, regretting it. "I guess I was just making conversation."
He smiled. "I'll have a few drinks, and the rest of my time will be divided between staring at sharks and staring at girls. Depending on how many drinks I have I might space out on the lights for a while."
"Megan said you were quite the ladies man," I said. Okay, so she hadn't said exactly that, but she'd come close enough.
He laughed again. "She just likes to give me a hard time."
We walked for a minute in silence before I said, "Why'd you assume they were talking about you being an expert on kettlebells?"
"Because I am."
He glanced over at me like that was all he was going to say about it, so I said, "My best guess at what a kettlebell is, is that instrument you hit with mallets. It's like a metal bowl down in the top of an oil drum."
He laughed again. "That's a steel drum."
"Why am I thinking it had the word kettle in it?"
"There is a drum called a kettledrum, but it's got a skin stretched over the top."
"No, I was definitely thinking of the steel drum if that's the one that has a metal bowl. So, you're a percussion expert?"
He laughed again. "I'm a fitness expert—a personal trainer. A kettlebell is something you use to work out."
"Then how'd you know so much about drums?" He smiled at me as if he thought I was the cutest thing in the world. He probably thought I was an idiot for not knowing the difference in a fitness tool and an instrument. My parents were both history buffs, and I had just graduated with a degree in history. Now that I thought about it, I'd come across kettledrums and steel drums before in historical context. I just wasn't thinking straight, and said the first thing that came to mind.
I was feeling pretty stupid. I tried to rack my brain for what a real kettlebell could possibly be as a way of redeeming myself for the ridiculous questions. "Is it the weight that has a handle?"
"You've tried kettlebells?" he asked smiling.
I knew I got it right. "No, but I know what you're talking about now. How'd you become an expert?" I glanced at him. "I can tell you're in good shape and everything, but I thought you worked for your dad's fishing business."
"I do," he said, "but I also work about ten hours a week at the gym. That was my main job back home, and I would have missed it. Plus, I get to train for free since I work there."
We were walking up to Megan's car, but I was still curious about him. "I don't know why it surprises me that you're a personal trainer. You look like one and everything, I just never knew… Megan never mentioned it."
"I work at Logan's."
I shrugged and he smi
led. "It's a really nice gym. You should come see me sometime."
"You think you could get me into shape?"
He gave me an appraising smile. "You already look good, but I can make you a beast."
I rather liked the idea of becoming a beast, and smiled as I opened the driver's door. "I might just come see you sometime," I said. "First I have to get a job."
He shrugged. "Don't worry about the money. The first month's free anyway."
"Really?"
"No, but just ask for me and I'll hook you up."
I smiled and got into the car. I knew he was just being nice, but he made me feel better on a bad night, and I was thankful that he was being so sweet. "Thanks for everything tonight," I said. I started the ignition and rolled down the window so I could close the door but still say goodbye to him. He moved to stand where he could prop himself on the door.
"Everything?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"You're talking about when I kissed you back there. You're thankful for that, right?"
I stared up at him from the driver's seat. I started to deny it, but I decided to tell him the truth. I regarded him with a sincere expression. "Actually I am sort of thankful for that, which is bad since I'm with someone else."
He glanced away guiltily, and I felt bad for making him feel bad.
"Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it," I said. "I'm just not really the kind of person who cheats, and I probably wouldn't have let it happen if it hadn't been such a sucky night. It was my fault, though. I totally encouraged you."
"I hope you break up with him," he said. His words were disguised as a groan as he stood up, but I clearly understood him.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"You heard me."
"What I thought I heard was sort of rude, so I didn't think that was what you said."
"What? That I hope you break up?" he asked, shrugging casually. "That's not rude. It's a compliment. It means I want to take you out."
I smiled. "I appreciate the compliment, then, but I'm a one man woman."
Thankfully, he didn't mention how readily I'd kissed him out on that dance floor. He just smiled and watched me back out before turning to walk back to the club. I wondered what his life must have been like in Puerto Rico. Megan hadn't told me anything about him, and for some reason, personal trainer was the last thing I pictured him doing. He looked like he'd be a pirate alongside Tom and the other two. I was curious about him and thought I'd have to pick Megan's brain a little next time I saw her.
Tattoos and Angels Page 2