by Anna B. Doe
“I didn’t know you have a kinky side to you.”
“I’ve got …” J.D. stops for a couple of seconds. “I know what you are doing, and I’ll tell you it’s not working. You won’t get me off track.”
“Okay, what do you want to ask?” I finally agree, realizing I can’t delay inevitable.
“Now that we broke the ice on our first date.”
“J.D.,” I whine loudly.
“I know, I know. But, will you be my date for a charity party? It’s a good cause.”
“Are you for real?”
Trying to bribe me into coming with him by acting all nice and generous. So old school.
“C’mon. It’ll be fun. I’ll even dance with you without complaining.”
“Not even once?”
“Not even once.”
“Another one?” I try to hold in the groan, but it’s a lost cause.
From the moment we entered in the hotel ballroom or whatever it’s called, Sienna took me to the dance floor and didn’t let me go.
“You promised you won’t complain,” Sienna reminds me with a sweet smile.
We’ve already danced to three songs and the party has barely started. I seriously hope she doesn’t plan to keep me on the dance floor for the rest of the evening. If so, I’ll have to find a way to get her out of here as soon as possible.
Sighing in defeat, I take her in my arms and we start moving to a slow song. At least there’s that. Thank god for small miracles. Slow dancing I can hide all the missteps I make and I get to hold Sienna in my arms.
Hopefully, nobody will realize how bad I’m at it. I don’t want to make Sienna look bad. She’s so gracious. It’s almost as if she slides over the floor.
For a while, I simply hold her close. We glide on the floor without saying a word. Her hands are around my neck, her head down on my chest. My hands are on the small of her back.
This time, her dress is a shimmery beige. It isn’t showing off her back. At least not completely. The strips that hold the dress crisscross over her back leave parts of her skin open and teasing every man in the room. A high cut on her right side shows off the smooth skin of her leg.
She’s simply gorgeous. Something I managed to tell her after I was able to start breathing again. This is what she does to me. She enters the room and suddenly I can’t breathe. Can’t think clearly. All I can do is feel. Slide my hands over her smooth skin and pull her closer to me.
“Is that Will?”
Something in the tone of her voice makes me take a step back and look over my shoulder.
“Who’s that with him?”
Which was a smart move because I can hear she’s not pleased. Not in the slightest. I move my gaze off Will and his date—his sure as hell not Anabel date—and look at Sienna. Her brows are pulled together in a frown.
“I don’t know,” I tell her truthfully. “Maybe his agent asked him to take this girl to charity for a stunt or something. You know how it can be.”
“Oh, I know well enough.”
She probably does but from the look in her eyes, that only grow harder with every second, I don’t think she cares.
“Sy-Sy.” Will walks to us with his date. “Shelton.”
Sienna is so stiff next to me, her hand gripping my elbow tightly. Her face is impassive. She doesn’t even try to hide how pissed off she’s with the whole situation.
“Price.” I nod at him in salute and look questioningly at his date.
“This is Macy, she’s—”
“Nothing compared to Bel,” Sienna stops him mid-sentence with a sweet smile. Too sweet. “Do you remember her? Anabel? Ring any bells?”
Will opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He looks between Macy and Sienna, clearly divided on what’s the best course of action in this situation. I don’t envy him at all. I wouldn’t like to be on the other end of the look Sienna’s giving him.
“I didn’t think so.” Her lips press into a tight line as she shakes her head. “I don’t even know why I bothered trusting you.”
Without another word, she turns around and walks away.
“What is …”
The girl looks at all of us, confusion written all over her face. The poor thing doesn’t know what happened. “Don’t worry, darling, it’s nothing personal,” I tell her, hoping to ease Sienna’s blow.
William’s hands clench and unclench at his side as he tries to gather himself. “Anabel is … otherwise occupied.”
I nod my head in understanding.
“I should get …” I show with my hand in the general direction in which Sienna went.
“Go to her.”
“What was all that at the party?” I ask Sienna once we finally get back home.
It’s late. I’m tired and cranky. The only thing I can think about is taking off this monkey suit and going to bed, but I know this can’t wait.
Throwing the suit jacket in the recliner I start to untie my tie and unbutton the first two buttons of my dress shirt.
I left Will and his date to look for Sienna, and I saw her enter the room again. I guess she needed some time to cool off so she went to the bathroom.
Sienna wanted to go home, I could see it clearly written on her face. But she never asked me to leave. She took it like a champ, playing her part until it was appropriate for us to leave. Going as far as eating on the other side of the table from a girl who was her best friend’s replacement for the night.
I couldn’t even blame her for being mad. What Will did was wrong on so many levels I can’t even begin to count. He knew there will be press covering the fundraiser and the word will probably get out. No matter what happened between Sienna and me, I couldn’t imagine myself going to this thing with anybody else.
“What?”
“All that with William and his date.”
Her anger that was barely restrained during the night gets back to the surface. “Just a few days ago he was pursuing Bel and now he takes some random chick to a charity party for everybody to see and talk. You think that’s okay?”
Sienna crosses her hands over her chest, pushing her tits up. She’s so angry I can almost see steam coming out of her ears.
Is it wrong if seeing her like this excites me to the point I’m ready to burst?
“No.” I move closer to her, taking her hands in mine. Sienna tries to resist me, but I’m not letting her go. “It’s not okay. But the way you reacted, it seems … personal.”
Finding the right words is hard. I don’t want to redirect her anger in my direction, but I also want some answers.
“It seemed like he did something wrong to you personally, not Anabel.”
Her glossy lips press into a tight line and I know I pressed the right button. Or wrong. Depends on how she reacts.
“I hate liars and pretenders.” Amber eyes look at me. Hard and cold. Then her eyes steer away from mine, like looking at me is too much.
“Who lied to you?”
There’s more to it. It can feel it in my bones. Nobody acts like Sienna without a reason. Something must have happened to her, something bad. Somebody hurt her. Broke her spirit, but more importantly, broke her trust in others. In men. That’s why she’s this standoffish one-night stand woman standing in front of me.
Sienna smirks, but there’s nothing amusing or easy-going about it.
“It was a guy, wasn’t it?”
“And my best friend.”
Ouch. That must have been ugly. Really, really ugly.
She tries to get out of my grasp, amber eyes staring at me stubbornly. I tighten my grip on her. Walking backward, I sit down on the couch and pull her into my lap.
“I’m sorry, baby. So fucking sorry.”
In the beginning, Si tries to resist me. Her body is rigid on mine, her face a mask of indifference. But I keep repeating the same words over and over again.
The palm of my hand slides up and down her thigh in a platonic, reassuring manner. My other hand is at the nape of
her neck, lost between the strands of her silky hair.
After a while, her resistance is gone. Her body relaxes against mine. She lays her head on my shoulder, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. I can feel her hot, sharp breaths against my skin. She doesn’t cry, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t hurting. Her hands loop around my neck and she presses her body harder against mine.
It’s hard for me to watch this beautiful, strong, confident woman be affected by her past so much it’s hard for her to breathe. I hate seeing her so small and broken. So helpless.
“Tell me about it,” I whisper into her ear, my nose nuzzling against her soft cheek as I do so.
And so, she tells me everything. About her asshole ex and traitor best friend.
Sienna talks about her past. About dancing and her parents. She tells me about the lost dreams and new opportunities. And I simply sit there and listen because that’s what she needs me to do. I hold her in my arms and tell her it’s not her fault. Because it’s not.
If I ever see the fucker that hurt her, I’ll punch him so hard in the face not even the best doctors will be able to put his nose back into its place. That asshole deserves far worse than that.
But that can wait, because right now? I’m not her avenger, I’m her consoler. Her friend. The guy who’s falling. Too hard and too fast for anything or anyone to stop it.
“You look stunning, girl!”
Anabel looks critically at her reflection in the mirror, but there is nothing to be critical about. The dark-blue halter dress I bought her for her birthday matches her eyes perfectly. The silky material hugs her curves and falls to her knees. Small, shiny, diamond-like jewels are spread over the material and give the whole dress a more elegant look.
Her black hair is curled and falling down her back. And her makeup is stunning as always. Bel usually doesn’t put a lot of makeup, but when she does she’s a true artist.
“It really looks pretty.” She nods approvingly at her reflection, before turning on her heels to look at me. “Thank you so much for the present, Sienna, you …”
“If you say what I think you are planning to say one more time I’m going to kick your ass, missy!”
“I didn’t say anything.” Her hands lift in surrender. “Want me to do your makeup?”
“Sure.”
We go to her en-suite bathroom where she sits me on the chair with my back to the mirror. I close my eyes and let her work her magic.
Bel doesn’t say much. Only an instruction here or there. The music is turned on on her phone, dance song after dance song filling the silence between us. It’s not uncomfortable or anything, it just is.
The feeling of hands working on my face is so familiar I relax completely. After years spent working as a model, it’s not surprising I’m used to it.
I don’t know how much time passes, but soon I hear a chime from my phone, signaling I have a text message.
“You want to get that?”
“Nah, it can wait.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, the phone chimes again.
“You sure? It seems like somebody really wants to talk to you.”
“I’m sure, Bel.” I give her a look that says to leave it alone. “Are you finished? I can’t wait to start celebrating.”
She shakes her head in astonishment. “All you think about is partying.”
“Atta girl.” I wink playfully at her.
“Don’t wiggle too much!” Bel softly slaps my head in warning. “You’ll ruin it.”
“Ouch.” I rub the back of my head. “That hurt.”
“I told you to sit still, didn’t I?” She rolls her eyes at me. “It’ll take a little while longer.”
True to her words, after a few more swipes of her brushes and a coat of light-pink lipstick, she lets me turn around.
My makeup is the complete opposite of hers. It’s light and summery while hers is dark and mysterious. There is a lot of light and neutral colors—gold, beige, brown, pink, and purple—and a lot of shimmer that goes well with my flowery dress.
The upper part of the dress is a corset that ties on the back while the down part is in layers. It’s shorter on the front but grows longer at the back, reaching half calf. The whole look is completed with high heel sandals, a clutch, and necklace.
This time I even made a change in my hairstyle. I usually have it curled, because the curls give it this bouncy, alive feel, but today I decided to keep it straight.
“You like?” Bel asks nervously.
“I seriously don’t get why you aren’t doing this for a living.”
She’s that good, I’m telling you.
I take my phone from the counter and unlock it, ready to see who has texted me.
“Oh, please.” Anabel’s waves her hand, but from the corner of my eye I see her reflection in the mirror, and the color rising in her cheeks. “There are hundreds of professionals and YouTubers that do it way better than me.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
I look down at my phone.
J.D.: You feel like coming over?
J.D.: We could watch movies with Grace and then have some alone time when she’s asleep.
My lips want to curl into a smile, but before they can do so I bite into my lower lip, preventing the smile from forming.
This is not the first text he’s sent me. We’ve been doing it on and off since our meeting … Okay—mentally, I roll my eyes at my silliness—our date.
Date. Date. Date.
It’s not so hard.
With every repeat, I cringe less and less.
J.D. invited me over a few times. We would order a take-out, chill on the couches. Sometimes we’d watch a movie, and sometimes Grace and I would gang up on him and make J.D. watch The Vampire Diaries with us. He’d complain, but in the end, he never said no. I even let him take me out on another date.
We have fun while we are together.
When we are together I’m completely relaxed and happy.
I can’t believe I’m saying it.
I haven’t felt that way around a guy for so long I forgot how it is. How easy it can be to let go and enjoy. How good it feels to have a strong, warm body in your bed. How good it feels to have his hands on my body.
And it scares me.
It scares me shitless.
The message stays open a few seconds longer before I close it and lock my phone.
The signs are clear as day. I can see myself fall into the same pattern I was in college. When I was naive, a little girl who gave her heart freely to a man that used it, stepped all over it, and threw it away before thinking twice.
I’m not that girl anymore.
My heart is mine, and mine only.
No man will ever get a chance to break it.
To break me.
“Are we going or what?”
The club is packed, but I don’t mind it one bit.
A mix of darkness and lights, music blasting from the speakers, the heat of bodies surrounding me, the alcohol that’s running through my veins. It’s exhilarating. Makes me wonder why I didn’t do it before.
When I was younger I used to go out every weekend, all weekend. There wasn’t a party I wasn’t invited to. There weren’t people I didn’t know. That first couple of years after I left college have been wild. I’m not exactly proud of them, but I’m not ashamed, either.
They are a part of who I am. A part of who I became after … After.
Now I’m not on the scene nearly as often as I used to be, but I still enjoy the occasional night out. Having Bel around is a bonus because she’s fun, enjoys dancing as much as I do, and she isn’t obsessed with being seen and seeing other people.
With her around, I can be me. Go out and have a few drinks with my friend. Somebody who isn’t obsessed with taking pictures for Instagram and Snapchat. Somebody who doesn’t expect me to introduce her to everybody that looks in our direction.
“Want to grab another one of these?” I ask her, liftin
g my empty glass in the air in case she didn’t hear me over the noise.
She nods enthusiastically, so I start toward the bar.
It’s almost midnight and there are so many people in here she has to hold on to my hand so that we don’t get separated. I don’t remember how many drinks we’ve had by now, all I know is my feet feel light and everything’s funny.
Bel can’t stop giggling, either, and I can’t stop laughing at her giggling and hiccups. I know how much alcohol has an effect on her because there is no trace of her usual self-consciousness and stiffness while she dances.
“Two mojitos,” I holler when we finally reach the bar.
People are waiting, and I literally pioneered my way through them, but I’m a girl on a mission. My friend is celebrating her birthday, I promised her we’ll have a great time together and there is no stopping me.
The bartender notices me instantly. I don’t know if it is because of my loud voice or the way I look, and I don’t care. He smiles at me and I return it, adding a playful wink for a good measure. The guy blushes and almost trips over his own feet, but gathers himself quickly and starts working on our drinks.
“Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.”
I look to my right at the guy standing on the bar, waiting for his drink. Probably one of those that were here way before me, but will end up waiting because this girl does not wait.
He’s handsome, in that neat, frat boy kind of way. His light-brown hair is casually messed, his strong jaw clean shaved. Blue eyes look at me with desire and spark of mischief. Crisp white dress shirt fits him nicely. The first button is left undone, showing little skin. He has a couple of inches on me, but not too much.
“And what is he getting himself into?” I lean into him so he can hear me.
A soft chuckle tickles at my skin. “A beautiful woman he wouldn’t know how to handle in a hundred years.”
“What gives you the impression I’d give anyone a chance to manhandle me?”
Fingers trace the side of my arm, making the goosebumps rise.
“Nothing, darlin’. You are too free, too wild for anyone to control. Only a real man can see it.”