Not Catching Love (Accidental Love #5)

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Xander

“This is going to be great,” I say for the umpteenth time, sandwiched in between Seven, Molly, and Madden. I’m holding on to Seven while he holds on to the bus handle overhead, and while I’m glad he’s taking one for the team, I’m going to have to monitor him for E. coli or a staph infection. This man never takes his damn health seriously.

Molly pokes me in the cheek. “What’s going to be so great about it?”

“Well, Madden’s excited, so I’m excited. Hey, maybe tonight, I’ll even find someone to hook up with. Finally. I can’t wait.” I think I’m convincing? No one questions me on it, at least. The last time I forced myself to go home with someone, I had to fake a panic attack to get out of there. All I know is the thought of doing things with him made my skin crawl. That’s not supposed to happen. I’m supposed to want sex. I’m supposed to be sexually active and a total deviant and be all nom nom for the cock.

I don’t think I’m doing the right kind of gagging over it.

When I think of sex, I think of cuddles and neediness and being close to the other person. Snuggling with some random I’ve met on the dance floor sends my brain into overdrive, questioning when he showered last, if he brushes his teeth properly, and if he’s had sex in his bed since he last washed the sheets.

I run my eyes over my friends. I’ve seen Madden naked enough to know that I’m not attracted to him, but letting him touch me? I think that would be okay. Seven? I shudder. We might not be blood related, but he’s my actual brother, as far as I’m concerned. Molly? He’s sweet and sunshiny, and I love him with my whole heart. I could maybe have sex with Molly.

I wouldn’t because I understand some boundaries, but thinking in an objective, could I actually go through with it way, I maybe could.

Possibly.

But a nameless, faceless stranger?

It’s like a dark, sludgy feeling creeping over my skin.

The bus pulls up to our stop, and I climb off with my friends. The club is loud with a short line out the front, and thankfully, it isn’t cold enough yet to deter all the mesh shirts and booty shorts.

Booty shorts like I’m wearing now.

While I follow the others toward the queue, I sneakily make sure that my outfit is perfect. The vest is snug, my shorts are high, and my over-the-knee socks are perfectly aligned. My chest tightens at not being able to check my hair and makeup in this lighting, and I’m trying to ignore the chipped nail polish on my thumb. If I think about it too deeply, I’ll never walk into the club. I did everything I could to look perfect, and I’m not perfect and? —

“Z?”

I hurry to catch up to Seven and give him my best “I’m fine and happy” smile. He doesn’t need to know that every day, I regret not making him tattoo on my eyeliner. I also want more freckles, but I’m too scared of him getting annoyed with me to bring it up. Last time we talked cosmetic tattoos, he got angry—something he never would have done before. It’s all therapy’s fault, I’m sure of it. So now, I have no choice but to keep these self-conscious thoughts to myself in order to keep Seven and Molly to myself too.

We get inside the club, where it’s immediately a good ten degrees warmer, and follow the hall down to the main area. It’s late, so it’s already jammed full of people, and I look around in awe.

I’ve never been here before, but Madden suddenly decided an hour ago that we needed to get our butts down here immediately. It didn’t give me anywhere near enough time to get ready, but here I am, dressed sweetly, in a sea of horny men.

There aren’t only men here, of course, but that’s what it feels like. Like I’ve stepped into a sea of expectations I’m not ready for, and the sharks are circling. Judging. Inspecting. Trying to determine if I’m worth their time. As much as I’m not interested in any of them, being rejected guts me, so to distract myself, I turn to Molly. “Look at all the hot guys here tonight. I’m totally going to find my Daddy.”

Molly laughs. “Anyone standing out to you?”

“Not really?—”

“What about him?” Madden shouts into my ear, long arm appearing over my shoulder as he points across the room. On the back wall are all these raised platforms at different heights, topped with shiny gold cages that have people dancing inside.

I inspect the one he’s pointing at, but it’s not until the man turns around that I realize why we’re here.

“D … d … d … ”

“Derek?” Seven finishes for me.

“Here,” I choke out.

“Dancing,” Molly teases, nudging me with his bony elbow. I’m too transfixed to bat him away.

My nerves are exploding so hard I’m worried for a second I’m being hit with a stomach flu. But it passes. And Derek is still up there in a harness and pants too tight for words.

I have no idea if he’s a good dancer or a bad dancer, but he sure as hell is a sexy dancer, and my tongue swipes over my lips as I watch him.

Derek? Derek is someone I could have sex with. I’m not sure where the lines are with my comfort levels and why him and not Seven when they’re both huge protectors in my life, but thinking about Derek’s hands on me makes me shivery. And it has nothing to do with the fact that every time I see him, he’s disinfecting them.

Probably.

Maybe.

Who fucking knows, but sex or no sex, I know how he makes my heart ache.

All I have to do is picture his big arms and how intoxicating it would feel to be buried in them.

My lust snaps when a man with overinflated muscles climbs up onto the platform beside the cage and runs his hand over Derek’s calf before continuing up his leg.

“What. The fuck. Is he doing?”

Now, normally, I do my best to be sweet Xander. Like a puppy. Or a kitten. If I’m cute, people will want to keep me.

But I never learned how to share as a child, and now, a filthy little gremlin lives inside me.

And seeing that man’s hands on Derek?

The gremlin is activated.

I’ll sooner pull off my Derek’s head than let someone else play with him .

“We’re in a club. Guys touch,” Seven says, like I haven’t caught the scent of blood.

“Over my dead body.”

I push forward into the crowd of people around me, my friends calling after me as I disappear. It’s easy enough to give them the slip when I’m shorter than almost everyone here, even with my platform sneakers on. The same sneakers I use to stomp the feet of anyone who gets in my way.

The swelling heat is making me sweaty, and I need to get off this dance floor before my makeup runs or my hair gets sticky. Especially if Derek is going to see me like this.

I reach the platform and climb up to where the guy is now rubbing both of Derek’s legs as Derek rolls his hips toward him. If there weren’t bars around my man, I’d bite his fucking dick off. Before either of them see me, I grab Mr. Handsy from behind and yank him away. I might be small, but I’m stronger than I look—and I’m a sneaky motherfucker with no issues catching someone by surprise.

Whatever it takes.

The guy, caught off guard, loses his footing and hits the platform with a thud that can almost be heard over the music.

“The fuck?” he shouts, springing back to his feet, but before he can take a step, Derek steps out of the cage and puts himself between us. The man goes for me, but Derek’s hands catch his chest, and I almost swoon at how Derek holds him back. “Walk away.”

“That little fuckwit pushed me over.”

I give the asshole my devil smile and blow him a kiss from behind Derek’s back.

“You’re fucking dead!” He lunges for me, and Derek catches him as Seven and Madden show up. The raised platform isn’t big enough for all of us, but that doesn’t stop Seven from joining us and hauling the guy from Derek’s grip.

“Touch my brother, and I end your life. Got it? ”

Seven is a scary motherfucker. Head and neck tattoos. Angry red hair. Absolutely enormous size. Sweetest heart in the world, which this guy has no way of knowing about.

It’s very obvious who’s coming away the winner in this scenario. The man, flushed in the face, jerks himself away and jumps from the platform, flipping me the bird as he disappears into the crowd.

As soon as he’s gone, I ignore Seven’s you’re in big trouble glare and redirect to Derek as he turns to face me.

“Xander? What the hell are you doing here?”

Those wide, kind eyes search mine, and I swear I can smell the heady scent of his sweat.

I forget how to form a sentence. Every other time I see Derek, I’m too far gone to appreciate it, and once he calms me down, I’m too embarrassed and angry with myself to stick around for long. Here, now, where I’m having a good night and he’s not reminding me that my brain is a shithead liar who lies, I have no idea what to say to him.

I barely remember to close my mouth.

“Umm … hi.”

The corner of his lips twitches. He has the sweetest eyes of anyone I’ve ever seen. “Hey.”

“You’re here.”

“And so are you.”

“I am.” I’ve never seen Derek out of his uniform that he wears at the pharmacy, but I’m seeing a lot of him now. He’s got a chunky belly and a solid chest sprinkled with dark hair. And big arms. He’s not overly big like Seven, but he’s a nice big. A cuddly big. I’m dying to know what his hugs are like. “Hi.”

Derek cracks up. “We’ve covered that.” He glances at Seven and Madden. “You here with, umm, anyone else?”

“Just Molly.” No date. Not me .

“Ah …” The eye contact is heart-stopping. “Well, I might go?—”

“Want to grab a drink?” The words spill from me before I can stop them.

Derek’s mouth opens. Closes. “With you?”

I nod. And nod. And nod. Like I’ve forgotten how to stop.

“Okay, but if we grab a drink together, I’m going to need you to say actual words.” His breathtaking smile comes. “You know that’s how a conversation works, right?”

“Give him a second and you won’t shut him up,” Seven butts in.

Derek turns to him. “I’d prefer that over him being mute. If it’s okay with you?”

I throw Seven a look, begging him to help me out here.

“Fine …” But Seven doesn’t look happy about it. No doubt he thinks I’ll get into more trouble, but with Derek’s attention on me and him not bringing up the nasty “T” word—therapy—my happy, little kitten is back.

“Let’s go.”

I follow Derek, more careful of the people dancing than before as we make our way to the bar. Now that I’ve calmed down, I genuinely feel bad about all the pushing and almost hurting that guy, and I hate that I can’t control myself sometimes. I hate that something in me snaps. I hate that the little gremlin always, always wins, but it’s the thing that defended me when no one else would, and slipping back into that is easier than fighting all the time.

I’m struggling to believe Derek’s here. Like, I could reach out and touch him. Smell him. Listen to him talk and drown in his steady gaze.

“What are you drinking?” he asks.

“Whatever you are.”

“Sorry to say that I’m on water tonight. ”

“Oh.” Does that mean he’s here with someone? “Are you designated driver?”

“Nah, I …” He shakes off whatever he was going to say. “Don’t always need to drink, you know?”

“I’ll have water too, then.”

“If that’s what you want.”

I can handle my alcohol, but there’s no way I’m going to risk getting drunk in front of him. Not Derek. He’s a real adult. Put together, stable, handsome, with a grown-up career and no demons in his closet.

But he’s also seen me at my worst, and here he is, choosing to spend time with me anyway.

Because Derek is my real-life Prince Charming.

Now, if only he’d do that part where he sweeps me off my feet.