The Iris Boys Series

by Smoke, Lucy

  Surprisingly the line didn’t take too long. Within twenty minutes we were the next to be let in and when we showed our IDs, the doorman uncapped a black sharpie and slashed X’s over the back of each of our hands. Erika grumbled, but let them do it and we were suddenly in the club. It was darker than it had been outside with all the street lamps and car headlights. Smoke lingered above the dance club – I was surprised. I thought there were laws saying you couldn’t smoke in public buildings anymore.

  As we moved further into the big, converted space, I realized that there were smoke machines by the DJ stand and up in the balconies. There were...so many balconies. Four wraparounds overlooking the dance floor, the bars, and the DJ stand. People were dressed a lot nicer than I was in my dark jean shorts. I looked down at the frayed ends and wished I had let Erika convince me to change. She noticed my preoccupation and looked down at my shorts as well before smirking at me.

  “I told you,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes and released the hem. “Come on,” I said, grabbing her hand. “I want to grab a bottle of water.” I could already feel the heat of the mash of bodies pressed against one another even though we weren’t anywhere near the dance floor yet. I knew I would need the hydration.

  “Hold on, slow your roll.” Erika pulled back, stopping me.

  “What?”

  “You’re acting like it’s not going to be there for much longer,” she snapped. “Look around.” She punctuated that with a gesture to our outrageous surroundings – the thumping music that reverberated up through the floor and walls. “This is a club. Everyone’s drinking. We should too!”

  I raised a brow at her and looked at her like she was crazy. “Um, that’s going to be a little hard to do.” I raised my hand, the back facing towards her. “They know we’re underage.”

  Erika smirked at me and shook her head. “Oh, Harlow.” She sighed. “Have I taught you nothing?” I frowned at her. What the hell did that mean? “The bouncers out front know we’re underage, but they see hundreds of people in a night. Do you really think they’re going to remember us? We can just go to the bathroom and wipe this shit off. No one else will know!”

  “Don’t they card you at the bar too?” This did not seem like a good plan.

  Erika rolled her eyes at me. “We’re not going to buy us drinks,” she said. “Guys are going to buy us drinks.”

  “I don’t know–” I began.

  “It’ll be fine,” she interrupted. “We’ll flirt a little and then bam, free drinks.”

  “What about Josh?” I asked.

  Erika shrugged. “I’m not going to do anything,” she insisted. “It’s just flirting.”

  “You’re giving guys the wrong impression.” I shook my head and Erika groaned.

  “Come on, Harlow,” she pleaded. “Just tonight. Please – no judgment – just fun.”

  “I think we should–” Erika ignored my final protest and grabbed my arm, dragging me to the general vicinity of where I guessed the female restrooms were. I sighed and just let it go. She could flirt all she wanted, I wouldn’t. Inside, it was dingy, but I could tell that at some point it had been a rather nice bathroom. The tiles on the floor and halfway up the walls didn’t need a thorough scrubbing as much as they needed to be taken out and replaced. The mirrors were clear of any lipstick notes or water marks. It was surprisingly clean for a dance club – or any kind of club for that matter.

  Erika stopped at the furthest sink, turned the hot water up to full blast which was only a trickle faster than it was at normal, and she proceeded to scrub the crap out of the back of her hands. She pumped the soap furiously as she washed. I sighed and stepped up next to her. I didn’t want to be the only one with black X’s. I started scrubbing as well. The markings came off after several more washes. Erika, in her determination, was done long before me and she waited impatiently by the door as she dried her hands.

  “Finally,” she said when I approached, the backs of my hands scrubbed red, but clean. She grabbed my wrist and tugged me out into the crowded club. It seemed that while we had been in the relative safety and quiet of the bathroom, more people had arrived. I wondered briefly why no one had been in the bathroom with us, but then I figured it might have been too early in the night for bathroom lines to have started yet. No one was drunk yet.

  “Let’s dance for a little bit before we hit the bars,” Erika announced.

  I couldn’t help the small amount of relief I felt. We hit the dance floor just as the song changed. I smiled when I recognized the opening tunes and began to dance. Erika laughed and jumped up and down as others did when the beat started moving rhythmically. I swayed and laughed and tilted my head, singing loudly, confident that no one could hear me above the crowd.

  I was starting to sweat and remembered that I had wanted a water earlier. Just as I was about to snag Erika’s arm and ask her to go with me to the bar, a pair of wide biceps curled around my middle and jerked me back into a strong chest. I looked up, startled and half irritated before I recognized the electric blue irises of the man holding me.

  “Grayson?”

  He didn’t smile at me. Instead he was glaring over my head at something. I whipped my chin around and saw that several guys were either subtly looking away or leaving the dance floor entirely. Erika was still too caught up in jumping alongside a group of other girls to notice what was going on. I turned back to Grayson.

  “What are you doing here?” I called over the music.

  He looked down at me and his frown deepened before I felt him lift me up. With my back to his chest, Grayson walked me towards the edge of the dance floor. Irritated, I swung my legs, trying to walk despite the fact that I wasn’t touching the ground. I debated on kicking him to get him to let me down, but then decided against it because I didn’t want to risk him dropping me.

  When we reached the edge of the dance floor he put me down, but I didn’t have time to demand answers, because the next thing I knew, his hand was wrapped around my upper arm in a tight grip and he was dragging me through the club. To where, I couldn’t see. Grayson shoved bodies out of the way and skirted whole groups with me in tow. I didn’t realize the crowded noise was growing quieter until we stepped out onto a back-patio. There were several filled tables of people smoking, clutching their cigarettes as they laughed and chatted and inhaled so hard that the cherries on the ends of their cigarettes burned brightly.

  “Grayson,” I said, immediately shocked by just how clear and loud my voice came out. I lowered my volume. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he snapped. “What was that out there?”

  “What was what?” I asked, confused.

  “Those animals were practically ready to dive on top of you.”

  “I was just dancing.” I took a step away from him when he dropped my arm.

  “Do your boyfriends know you’re here?” he demanded. “Do they know about that–” he looked pointedly down at my X-less hands. “That’s not very ‘good girl’ of you.”

  I bristled. “Who said I had to be a good girl all the freaking time? Yeah, the guys know where I am. But who said I have to follow the rules and do what I’m told all the time? I can leave and go somewhere and not tell them. If I want to.”

  He raised his eyebrows before narrowing his gaze. “Are you drunk? Have you already been drinking?” When he reached for me, I slapped his hands away and took another step back.

  “No, I have not been drinking and I am not drunk,” I whisper-yelled when I noticed some of the smokers had turned their attention to us. I narrowed my eyes at him, mimicking his expression. “What are you doing here? Are you following me again?”

  He groaned, rolling his eyes. Placing his hands on his hips, Grayson tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling as though he were praying for patience...or praying that it would fall on him. I was kind of hoping for the second option at this point.

  "Grayson," I said – done with this whole situation.
"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?"

  "I came here to find a friend," he replied, finally looking back down at me. His blue eyes crackled with heat and something more. I resisted the urge to take a third step back. I felt like that would be noticeable and maybe, just maybe, a little overkill.

  "Me?" I asked. "Am I that friend? How did you even know I was here?"

  At that, he smirked. "No, Harlow, you’re not the friend I’m here looking for.”

  “Okay, if I’m not, then how do you explain us being here at the same time? Don’t you think this is a little too coincidental?”

  God, what was it with this guy? Half the time he was a complete douchebag, and then there were times… I thought back to how worried he had been about his brother. He wasn’t all bad. I knew that instinctively, and maybe that’s why I kept letting myself get pulled in by him. Why I kept answering him when he called or texted. There was just something about him.

  “A coincidence is a coincidence,” he said with a shrug, before pulling out his phone.

  I narrowed my gaze. Right now, that something about him was all douche. “I don’t believe in coincidences – what are you doing?”

  “I’m ordering you an Uber. I don’t have time to take you home and you really shouldn’t be here–” I shoved him hard and his phone fell from his hand, cracking on the pavement flooring of the outdoor patio. Several eyes shot back in our direction and my face heated. Grayson recovered quickly, bending to pick up the broken phone before steering me to a more empty section of the patio.

  “Are you done?” he snapped.

  “I’m not leaving,” I replied.

  "Harlow–"

  "I'm here with my friend," I snapped. "I don't get to see her anymore. I'm here to have fun." I emphasized the last word because it was the most important. I never got to have fun anymore. I mean, pranking Marv was one thing, but I hadn't seen Erika in over a month and before that we had seen each other five days a week every week. It was a difficult change. Though the guys were great at distracting me, I missed her. I realized that I wasn't being a good friend out here, ditching her when she might need me. I sighed and moved around Grayson, done trying to figure him out.

  "Where are you going?" he demanded.

  "Back inside," I said. "Erika's in there alone and I came here with her. Don't worry about me, Grayson. I'll be just fine without you." I turned and strode to the doors leading back into the building. I didn't even have the energy to ask him for the reason he wanted to meet the other day. I knew he probably had something to tell me, but I was so tired of everything he brought with him. The guys didn't seem to care for him. He was selfish, plain as could be, even if he was a good guy deep down.

  When I finally caught up with Erika, she was at one of the bars, flirting heavily with someone. When I caught her attention, she waved me over. Her face was happy, her cheeks flushed, and it was clear she had already gotten herself a drink or two. When she offered me a shot, courtesy of one of the guys, I didn't say no. I took it from her and downed it, letting the liquid fire scorch a path down my throat.

  "Who's your friend?" one of the guys asked, motioning to me. Erika grinned and introduced us. As I shook their hands, I learned that they were all centers at one of the local universities. Some of them were more good-looking than the others. We talked. Erika flirted. Within the next hour, I didn't see Grayson again, but I did take quite a few more shots. When my mind blurred and my stomach cramped, I realized I had to pee really bad.

  "I gotta go to the bathroom," I mumbled to Erika. Surprisingly, she didn't offer to come with me like she usually would. I didn't mind. I didn't like it when she followed behind me to the bathroom just because.

  I made my way through the club, pushing past sweaty bodies. The hot, stale air was heavy and by the time I made it to the bathroom line, I was panting. The line was much longer now than what Erika and I had experienced earlier, and I had to wait nearly fifteen minutes before I even passed the bathroom threshold. No one came in after me, for which I was grateful. I wasn't drunk enough to not care if other people were in there while I was peeing.

  When I finished, I exited the stall and washed and dried my hands and strode back out into the club. The door swung closed behind me and as I moved towards the crowds of people, behind me, a small, fragile whimper stopped me. I turned back.

  Across the hallway from the women's bathroom was a small alcove where I expected a storage or staff door to be. I moved closer. The whimpering was gone but the small sound of sorrow and fear and pain pushed me to turn the corner.

  A tall man with a short crop of dishwater blonde hair moved his pelvis against someone I couldn't see. Slender, dainty hands, nails painted royal purple, were pressed against the wall on either side of him. As I moved closer, the man stopped grinding and reached a hand up to whoever was in front of him. He dipped his head down and I watched as the small, elegant hands balled into fists so tight the knuckles blanched white. I paused, unsure if I was interrupting something wrong. I turned again to go when that small whimper stopped me in my tracks.

  A swell of anger rooted somewhere deep down in me rose to the surface. As I turned back, it felt like everything slowed – as if my entire body was moving against a heavy wave of tension.

  "Hey!" I snapped, startling the man. Time sped up.

  His face whipped around, his dull eyes taking me in before his lips curled into a sneer. "Mind your own business, bitch," he said before turning back to the girl.

  I stomped up to his back, grabbed his shoulder and swung him around. The woman behind him was pale and skinny – so skinny that it was a wonder her clothes didn't fall right off of her. Her sunken eyes were glazed over, filled with a deeply rooted pain. I fought the urge to flinch just looking at her. Instead, I lowered my voice, and softening my tone as I shoved the guy away.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "She's fucking fine," the man was there again, shoving me back. "Get the fuck out of here."

  "No," I turned and stood directly in front of the girl, blocking her from him. My hands shook. He was taller than me, not by much, but still...and he was a guy and I was short and not very strong.

  The girl behind me didn't leap up, too embarrassed, I assumed, to try to stop me from squaring off in front of the man who – a moment before had been grinding himself all over her. She hadn't wanted it. How had no one noticed she was back here with him? Where were her friends? I glared at the guy in front of me, taking in the skeletal hollows of his cheekbones and his red, clouded eyes. He was completely strung out.

  "No?" The man was momentarily confused by my defiance, but that didn't stop him from grabbing me by the shoulders and throwing me towards the hallway. He shoved me again, harder, towards the end of the hallway. "Stay gone, you little bitch." He turned around.

  I don't know if it was the alcohol running through my veins or if a wave of brave righteousness swept through me. All I knew was, I couldn't let him go back to her. How did he not see that she didn't want what he was doing? Why didn't he care? I didn't understand how anyone could be so callous. I grabbed his arm and this time, I didn't have to turn him. He turned back towards me with a huff, probably prepared to cut off a warning for him to leave the girl alone or something. But I didn’t have a warning for him. I clenched my fist, pulled back, and slammed my knuckles into his nose.

  He choked, shocked, as blood poured out of his nostrils. He stumbled back, knocking his shoulder into the wall. I moved closer before he could stop me, and grabbed his shoulders with each hand, slamming my knee into his dick. He dropped like a pile of rocks, wheezing with one hand over his bloody nose and one over his injured groin; a pathetic, whiny, mess – whimpering and sniveling with tears leaking out of his eyes. Good, I thought. He deserved it.

  I skirted around him, back to the girl. She was exactly where I had left her with her legs slightly spread apart as she leaned against the wall. I approached her slowly, and when I raised my hand, I noticed that my knuckles were scraped, but not bruised
and my thumb definitely didn't hurt. I guess Knix and Bellamy's self-defense stuff was really working.

  I closed the distance between the girl and me, moving gradually toward her so as not to startle her. She didn't give any indication that she knew I was there. "Hey," I said gently, "my name's Harlow. Are you okay?" She didn't reply, so I tried something else. "You don't have to worry about that guy," I continued. "I don't think he'll be trying anything on anyone tonight."

  She blinked at me, long slow blinks, as if she was just coming back from somewhere else, and began to shiver when I reached for her. She let me take her hand and pull her behind me. The guy was still there when we rounded the corner. I must have kneed him harder than I thought because it looked like he had completely given up on trying to stop the blood flow coming from his nose and was focused on holding his family jewels. I scowled at him as I pulled the girl behind me and into the empty bathroom before slamming the door closed behind us and locking it. I turned back to her, but she wasn't looking at me.

  Her pale face was turned towards the row of mirrors on one side of the bathroom and she stepped towards them, her hands gripping the short dress she wore. I began to wonder if I was too late, if the guy had already done something before I arrived. I hesitated, still standing in front of the locked bathroom door. There were voices outside after a while. Someone had found the pervert. I listened as two guys talked, asking him questions that he didn’t answer. After a while they sighed, and I listened as they hauled him up and carted him away, musing aloud about how stupid people get when they were drunk.

  It was several minutes after they had left that I finally moved towards the girl as she stared at her reflection. When I stood behind her, her eyes flickered towards me before she finally spoke. "Thanks," she rasped, turning her gaze away.

  "You're welcome," I replied.

  Something told me not to turn around and walk out. She was fine now; the guy was gone. Still, I hesitated. Whoever had carted him away had surely made him leave the club entirely. But I couldn't force myself to leave her to what felt like a private moment. I also knew that I couldn't force her to talk. I took a breath and I moved towards the back wall where a small settee was shoved next to the furthest sink in an effort to make the bathroom look more elegant. It didn't succeed, but at least it gave me somewhere to sit while I waited.