Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
LUCA
Mask.
Who names a club Mask?
I’m standing in front of the doors for the fifth time since deciding I was going to come here, but this time I really have to go inside.
I can’t take one more class with Professor Levine while my head is so confused.
I’m going to end up doing something to embarrass myself, even worse than I already have, and I don’t want to think about what that something might be.
It’s so strange—I’d never noticed the way praise made me feel before.
I’d never really thought about it, other than the fact that I liked doing a good job.
The word good shouldn’t have had the ability to zip down my spine and turn me into someone who couldn’t think straight.
When Professor Levine says it, all bets are off. I can’t think.
I was going to smother Zandy in his sleep. Him and his scary boyfriend. Every single bit of this is their fault. I should have forced him to come here with me like some sort of bad roommate penance for his crimes against my sanity.
I stare at the club for another few seconds, trying to work up the nerve to take a step forward.
The lights coming from inside cascade in a purple haze from the open door, and the thump thump thumping tempo of the music is almost as rapidfire as my heartbeat.
Even though I can’t see much inside, there are bodies moving, people talking.
Laughter.
It’s all heat and excitement, and it’s exactly what I need to look for if I’m going to work through all the cobwebs in my head and figure out how to behave like an actual adult around Professor Levine.
Come on, Luca. You can do this.
The silent pep talk isn’t doing me a damn bit of good. It hasn’t gotten me in there yet.
The feel of a group of people behind me, however, makes me shift forward… and once my feet are moving, I can’t seem to stop myself.
I do take pause when the bouncer puts his arm out, and I don’t miss the way he arches a brow at me like he’s just as surprised as I am that I’m finally here.
I wonder if he’s noticed me standing at the door before.
With how many times I’ve been here, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had my face memorized.
He probably went home and told his friends all about that weird little mousy kid with brown hair and brown eyes who kept showing up at the club and then running away like his pants were on fire.
I open my mouth to apologize for being weird, but he waves me in before I can. It saves me from that embarrassing reaction, at least…
Of course, now that I’m in, I’m really not sure if I can do this… but even if I wanted to go, the group of people behind me are blocking my way out.
It’s too late.
And as soon as I step inside, I realize this was a mistake.
I’m overwhelmed. There are so many people here, crowded on the dance floor, pressed against the walls with their arms around each other. There isn’t even space at the bar for me to try to hide.
Oh… God.
Worst still, I feel warm. I’m terrified and excited, and even though I don’t know how to deal with any of this… my body seems thrilled that I’m here.
This is exactly why I had to come. My emotional regulation has been non-existent lately, and I need to figure out a way I can get a hold of it.
Being here is like some really odd form of exposure therapy, if nothing else.
I need to deal with what I’m feeling and learn how to control it.
If I can’t even figure myself out, I’m not sure what I’m doing trying to go into psychology.
Though… as I watch the people grind against each other on the dance floor—sweaty and looking like they’re pantomiming sex—I’m pretty sure the heat that’s pulsing through me is a weird mixture of desire and embarrassment.
I couldn’t do that.
I’m honestly pretty sure I couldn’t do anything remotely close to it. I’m not even sure why I’m here, other than my brain needing confirmation that what I heard and my reaction to it wasn’t a fluke.
“You already figured that out with Professor Scary, Luca.” I murmur the answer to myself, unable to hear it over the pulsing sound of the music.
Now that I’m here, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I guess a normal person would go to the bar… but I don’t really drink. Maybe they’d go out on the dance floor and see if anyone joined them?
The thought of being trapped between all those gyrating bodies is enough to make my chest feel tight. The last thing I want is to have a panic attack in the middle of an unfamiliar club.
The last thing I need is someone, somehow getting word of it back to school.
The thought of my classmates knowing I was here is enough to make my entire face burn.
The thought of Zandy realizing why I needed to come here is enough to make me want to dig a hole through the checkered tile beneath my feet so I can just live underground.
Since I can’t do that, my eyes flick around.
There’s the door, but a group of people are gathered there talking to the bouncer, and I’m not sure if I’d be able to squeeze through without touching them.
There’s the dance floor, but I’ve already established that I’d perish if I even tried…
Which leaves my eyes sweeping around in something close to desperation… until I notice at the back of the club there’s a roped off area with…
Tables. And behind those, curtains partitioning it from the rest of the chaos.
There are still people there, more people than I’m used to interacting with… but it looks calm. More organized.
It looks like I could breathe.
I make my way around the edge of the dance floor, my eyes occasionally catching on couples who have their mouths pressed together, who are holding each other like they don’t care that anyone is watching and…
Oh no.
There it is again. That warm tickling through my body, the soft tingles that led me here to begin with. I’m not sure if I’m actually any closer to having a solid answer, but I’m starting to realize that I wasn’t wrong…
There is something about me that I need to figure out.
“Hey there, you look a little lost.” A voice to my left makes my eyes go wide.
I twist my gaze around to see a pretty man.
He’s slender with a mesh shirt on, and his pink hair is mussed with a mixture of sweat and product.
There’s liner around his bright green eyes—he’s tall and lanky and… really pretty.
But… I don’t think he’s my type. Probably not, anyway. When I don’t say anything, he reaches out, taking hold of my arm. It isn’t until his slender fingers catch on the dark sleeve of the dress shirt I pulled on that I realize I’m swaying. I probably look like I’m about to fall over.
I feel like I’m about to faint.
“I…” I really am. I’m so lost, and I’m not sure what I’m doing. My brain keeps clicking over and over like a car trying to start. Something about the way he tilts his head, hair falling into his gaze is off for just a second, but then he looks me up and down and bites his lower lip.
“I’m Asher,” he supplies, and I shake my head once. Twice. Slowly.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” I finally get out.
“Weird name.” The smirk that crosses his lips is wicked, and he tilts his head toward the roped off area in the back.
“Go catch your breath Not Supposed to Be Here. You look like you’re going to faint.
If you aren’t careful, your damsel in distress routine is going to catch someone’s attention who might not be as nice as I am. ”
“What?” I get out weakly, and he looks behind us.
“Seriously, you’re Little Red, and this place is full of big bad wolves. Get yourself together before someone tries to eat you.”
I realize after a second that he’s pointing toward the area I was looking at. There’s another bouncer at the entrance, and it looks like he’s denying more people than he’s letting in… but there’s a little gap where Asher is glancing, right by a hallway that looks like it leads to the bathrooms.
“Thanks.” I swing my gaze back to him, but he’s already threading his way through the crowd, his body lithe and dancer-like as he weaves between the movement, looking for a place to fit in.
That…
I don’t even know what that was, but it wasn’t what I was looking for. I don’t know what I’m looking for, except a place to breathe.
I make my way forward, slipping through that little gap so I can press my back against the wall in the roped off area with a sigh. My head drops back, pressing against brick, and I blow out a breath.
I wasn’t sure why I thought coming here was really going to answer anything. Maybe it wasn’t even the fact that it was two guys. Maybe it was just the way it sounded like Zandy was going out of his head for Kerian, or the fact that he had to have known I was still there, that I could hear them.
Maybe I’m just a pervert.
God… Thinking like that is not something I want. That’s the kind of stuff my dad would have said, and I’m not letting myself go there.
I force in a deep breath again. The music is just as loud here as it is in the front of the club, but I don’t feel the press of bodies against me, the pressure to join them.
I can do this.
I can look around, observe. I can let myself feel for once, to see if I feel anything at all.
I’m allowed to figure myself out.
You can do this, Luca. The whispered pep talk doesn’t do much for me, but I still force my eyes open.
And realize that, as secluded as the roped off area in the back is, I’m not alone.
In fact, it’s more than that. I’m being watched.
The knowledge blossoms over my entire body, tingling and strange and maybe something close to what I was looking for. That isn’t telling me anything about myself, except that maybe I do have some… odd proclivities. Apparently odd enough it’s caught someone’s attention.
Well, not someone, a man. A huge man. His dark blue eyes peruse my body like he’s shopping, and I feel so small… like a deer caught in headlights.
Whatever I was coming here to figure out, whatever I was coming here to feel… I’m not sure this is it. The warmth in my chest is kicking around with a colder sensation—fear? Maybe. Nerves?
I’m not sure anymore.
Worse, I’m so petrified that I can’t move as he steps forward, tilting his head as he does. He isn’t even being rude. He waits for me to make a move, to turn away, to do something… and all I can do is keep staring at him with eyes that I’m sure are the size of dinner plates.
He must take the staring as an invitation because he steps closer. Close enough that if I dropped my gaze, I’d probably be eye level with his nipple.
Close enough that I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a panic attack.
Or maybe I’ll just faint.
“Are you okay?” The question isn’t invasive. Honestly, I probably look like I’m not okay… but he’s still moving closer to me, and his hand reaches out like he’s planning on touching me. Cupping my face, maybe?
I don’t know, and all I can do is brace myself for it when long fingers wrap around the man’s wrist a few inches from my face.
“He’s fine. He’s with me.”
Oh, no.
Not him.
Anyone but him.