Find Me : The Poison Ivy Series Book One

Chapter 2

?

The line outside of Heat is huge, and Sam and I wait to get in as the cool air nips at our exposed legs. I’m feeling good about my outfit choice, even if I’m a little unsteady in these heels. Muffled music from inside the building drifts out to greet us every time the door is opened and a few more people are let in. We shuffle forward slowly, making small talk while clutching our IDs, ready to show them to the intimidating-looking bouncers guarding the doors.

I’m starting to get cold, and I know I can’t be the only one as I look around and see many people more scantily clad than me. I glance at Sam. “Does it always take this long to get in?”

“Heat is the place to be, Evi. You’d know this if you came out with me more than once a year.” She laughs.

Her energy is contagious, and I can’t help but smile back at her. A few people get denied entry to the bar, and as they stumble away from the entrance, it’s clear why. The line continues to move forward, and I am thankful as soon as we’re let inside, the heat from the club washing over my body. The music pumps loudly; some famous DJ is here tonight, and even though I don’t recognize him or his music, I like what I’m hearing. Sam and I walk across the dance floor together, heading straight for the bar. Her hand grips onto mine tightly as she leads the way through a sea of people. I look up at the DJ booth as we pass underneath it, and his eyes meet mine, winking at me before going back to his music. My heart flutters in response to the wink, and it annoys me how easily I get flustered around men. I never used to get attention from boys growing up as not many would dare, knowing who my father was. But since moving to this city and becoming a little more unknown, I’ve experienced more attention from men than I ever did back home.

As I move further into the club, the glow of red spotlights reflect the smoke in the air, hovering above the dance floor and the tables that surround it. You’re not technically supposed to smoke inside, but people still do. I inhale deeply, allowing the smell to comfort me, reminding me of the cigars my grandfather used to smoke.

“I’m going to get some drinks—grab a seat!” Sam yells into my ear before letting go of my hand. It’s hard to hear over the pounding of the bass, so I just nod at her and point in the general direction I’m headed. I find an empty booth near the bar, and the red leather seat pulls against my skin as I slide in. The club is packed, and the smell of liquor is hard on my nose. A bit of white powder on the table in front of me suggests the people here before us had some extra fun. I grab a used cocktail napkin and cautiously brush it off the table, not wanting to accidentally touch it.

Growing up in such a strict household had me scared to put a foot out of line, and I had never seen drugs before Sam started dragging me out to clubs like this. Sam, on the other hand, is never phased by anything and, having told me all about her teenage years where she spent more time sneaking into bars than sitting in her high school classroom, it’s clear why. Our experiences as teenagers couldn’t have been more different; I was always too worried about what my dad would do if he found out I had done anything to compromise our family’s image. A slap across the face would be the least of my worries if he found me skipping school or partying underage. Meanwhile, Sam’s parents were seemingly too busy to care about what she got up to.

Two huge glasses filled with a neon yellow concoction slam down on the table in front of me as Sam slides into the booth across from me.

“I’m back!” She practically sings with excitement.

“What is it?” I shout over the loud music, looking at the drink in front of me skeptically.

“A golden margarita!” she yells back as if I’m supposed to know what that means. She picks up the glass in front of her and begins drinking deeply.

I pick mine up, the cold glass wet under my touch, and take a sip. It’s not half bad.

I look to Sam, holding up my glass. “Cheers!”

Sam smiles back at me, her drink already half gone. While she’s usually the voice of reason, reminding me of the importance of balance, it seems as though tonight she’s ready to let loose and see exactly where the alcohol will take her.

She continues drinking at a strong pace, and I struggle to keep up with her. Sam lets out a shriek after finishing her third cocktail in one big sip, and people around us turn to look in response. She’s impossible to overlook. Not only does her voice carry when she’s had a few drinks, but her vibrant personality demands attention. Add her long black hair, mesmerizing brown eyes, and stylish outfit into the mix, and she stands out in any crowd. I know she’ll use her good looks and captivating smile to get as many free drinks as she can tonight.

As the hours go by, I lose count of how many drinks I’ve had, and we make our way to the center of the dance floor, hand-in-hand once again. The room spins around me, and I steady myself against Sam. Our favorite song comes on and I can feel the bass in my chest as we start dancing together, my heart seemingly beating in sync with the music. I dance to a dozen more songs until I’m sticky with sweat, and blisters have started to form against my heels. I leave Sam on the dance floor, and she quickly blends in with the crowd as I stumble to the bar, cursing myself for wearing such impractical shoes.

The bartender smiles as he recognizes me in the crowd of people trying to get a drink.

“What can I get for you, babe?” he asks, laying the charm on thick and flashing a wide smile.

“Just water this time, please!” I shout across the bar as I lean on it, my feet tired from dancing so much.

The bartender winks at me, confirming he heard me, and it’s only a few seconds before a large ice water is placed in front of me. I bring the drink up to my lips, and relief floods through me as the cool water hits my throat, instantly making me more comfortable. I give a small wave, silently thanking the bartender, and spin around, eager to get back to Sam on the dance floor. I take one step before colliding with someone, their solid frame stopping me in my tracks.

Some of my water splashes onto my hand and the floor below, and I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment. I mutter an apology before attempting to sidestep around him, but he moves in sync with me.

“Is a measly sorry all I get these days?” a familiar voice drawls.

I do a double-take and look up at the person I just ran into.

I smile widely as my eyes lock onto his, a bright sea blue that I would happily drown in.

“Rhett!” I shriek, throwing myself at him, my water sloshing out of the glass once again. Muscular arms catch me, wrapping around my waist as he tilts his head down, his lips meeting mine in greeting. The club around us fades from existence as I get caught up in his kiss, his hands exploring my body as his tongue invades my mouth.

We pull apart, coming up for air as he takes my hands in his, leading me back to a booth. I slide in beside him, momentarily forgetting about Sam on the dance floor.

Rhett looks at me and my heart pounds in my chest as his eyes trail across my body.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this dress before,” he says, his hand coming to a rest on the short hem, “because if I had, you would never be allowed out of the house wearing it without me by your side.” He winks at me, and I ignore his comment as butterflies flutter in my chest under his gaze.

He takes my hand in his, bringing it to his mouth as he kisses it.

“I’ve missed you, babe,” he murmurs, and for a moment, I melt under his touch.

Pulling my hand away to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, I can’t help but giggle at his proclamation.

“I saw you two days ago,” I chide lightly. “Or do you miss me so much already that you had to crash girls’ night?”

He laughs, flashing a perfect smile as he runs his hand through his blonde hair, the Rolex on his wrist shimmering.

“Okay, you caught me.” He smiles. “But can you blame me for not wanting to spend a minute away from you, Evi? Look at you…” He trails off, looking me up and down. “You’re so hot, babe.”

I blush, unaccustomed to such declarations.

“You’re not half bad yourself,” I joke, trying to shift the attention from me.

Rhett chuckles in response, subtly waiving down a server and ordering a round of drinks for us both. I watch him, and not for the first time, I notice how he carries himself with a level of confidence that I’ve never had. On top of that, he is dressed meticulously; his high-end leather shoes, designer jacket, and tailored clothes make him impossible to miss.

The server gets the drinks quickly, and Rhett thanks her as she places the glasses in front of us. Her eyes widen as Rhett hands her his black AMEX to pay for the drinks, and she taps it on the machine in her hand before delicately handing it back to him and rushing to another table.

I smile at Rhett as he sips his drink.

He puts his glass down, looking at me, and my heart flutters under his gaze.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” I laugh, taking a sip of my drink, the liquid burning my throat on the way down. “God, that is strong,” I say, with a wince.

“Tell me, babe.” He laughs, his hand brushing softly against my exposed skin.

“It’s nothing, really,” I start, “it’s just refreshing to be around men who treat servers with respect, that’s all.”

“You know, speaking of the whole server thing, Evi, you should really find another job,” he says lightly, taking another sip of his drink. He sees the look I give him and tries to recover quickly. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with waitressing. I’m just saying that you’re better than that, not to mention I can’t imagine it pays very well.”

I brush him off, desperately trying to change the topic as my shoulders sink and a feeling of inferiority starts to creep in.

He takes a deep breath, “I’m messing this up, aren’t I?” he asks, his eyes searching mine. “I just mean that you had the world at your fingertips, and between your education and your family name, you could have done anything you wanted. I just think your talent is wasted at some run-down diner, that’s all. You don’t want me to be the only one in this relationship working at a prestigious legal firm, do you?” He laughs, and the smile I flash him in return doesn’t meet my eyes.

“We can’t all be hot shots, Rhett,” I say as I bring the cold drink to my lips, trying to cool the temper rising within me. Besides the fact that he was raised in the South, Rhett’s childhood was very similar to mine. Unlike me, nothing could convince him to risk getting cut off from his family’s money, not when his trust fund is a result of a billion-dollar oil and gas fortune. So, at the same time I was dropping out of school, Rhett was moving up here, following a job offer to a prestigious law firm, and biding his time until his parents handed over the keys to the family business. And then we met.

He kisses me, the taste of bourbon fresh on his lips. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be the hot shot for now, but think it over, will you? And until then, if you ever want to role-play in your waitressing outfit, you just let me know.” He winks.

I scoff, focusing on the drink in my hand. I open my mouth to tell him exactly what I think of all that and how I actually have an interview lined up, but just as I’m about to speak, Sam plops down in the seat across from us.

Fresh off the dance floor, her skin glimmers with sweat and her hair is tousled, but she still looks incredible.

“You must be the infamous Rhett.” She accuses playfully, and only I see the calculation behind her eyes as she assesses the guy I’ve been spending all my time with. For a moment, I feel guilty that I’ve been dating Rhett for several weeks and have never introduced him to Sam.

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, laying on the charm thickly and flashing a bright smile her way, “it’s nice to meet you finally.”

“Sam, meet Rhett, Rhett, meet Sam,” I say by way of introduction.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says, her eyes never leaving him.

He smiles playfully, taking a long sip from his drink before answering, “All good things I hope?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to never find out.” She laughs. “Come on, Evi, time for another dance!”

Rhett puts his arm around me, pulling me in closely. “Actually, we were just about to get going, but maybe next time.” He smiles as Sam throws me a look.

“This was supposed to be girls’ night, Evi. Come on, stay for a little longer, then we can head back to yours and watch a movie or whatever!” she begs.

My eyes shift from Sam to Rhett, and I struggle to choose between the two of them. I haven’t quite learned how to balance my friendship with Sam and my relationship with Rhett, and it feels like I am walking a very thin line, always at risk of disappointing someone.

“Next time.” Rhett’s words bring me back to reality. “It was great meeting you, Sam, and I’m sure I’ll see a lot more of you.” He stands up, his hand never leaving mine, and draws me into him.

I look between the two of them, a sudden pang of guilt in my chest.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” I say. “Did you want to come back with us? We can plan another girls’ night out soon!”

Sam shoots me a look, daggers behind her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, Evi,” she says curtly. “I’ll stay here, but you two have fun.” She turns on her heel and walks away, her anger palpable.

I curse under my breath.

Rhett starts to guide me in the opposite direction of Sam, his broad frame cutting a line through the crowd as we walk toward the exit. “She’ll get over it,” he says dismissively. “But trust me, after what I’m about to do to you when we get home, you’ll be happy you left the club.”

I meet his gaze, his blue eyes sparkle suggestively, and I know exactly what he has planned for the rest of the evening.