Chapter 6 Cody
When we arrive at the club at eleven—after I downed several cups of coffee at home—there’s a long line in front of the entrance. All are people who look younger than me. It’s already making me feel out of place.
“Oh,” I say as I see the crowd, trying to sound disappointed but actually feeling relieved. Hopefully, this means we can change plans. “Look at that line, it’s endless. Maybe we should go somewhere else?”
But Luc shakes his head. “Pas de problème.”
For reasons unknown to me, he’s looking at his phone. A brief glance at the screen tells me he has a chat screen opened. He quickly types something and sends it before putting his phone away. I couldn’t read the message, but I also have no desire to invade his privacy.
“Come with me,” he says, and he starts to walk past the line, motioning for me to follow him. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the bouncer, and it doesn’t look like we’re leaving, unfortunately for me.
Luc greets the man blocking the entrance, and to my surprise, the broad, middle-aged bouncer seems to recognize him instantly. He gives him a slight nod and steps aside to let him through.
“Il est avec moi,” Luc says to him, pointing at me, and I presume that means something along the lines of “he’s with me.”
The bouncer glances at me, nods without expression, and quickly ignores us, bringing his focus back to the people in line.
“Who are you?” I ask Luc as we step into the club. Bright flashing lights instantly greet me, and I already have to shout because of the loud music. It’s not how I’d like to spend time with him. “Why did he let you in so easily?”
Luc smiles mysteriously. “What’s important is not who you are,” he shouts back. “It’s about who you know.”
“Okay, so who do you know?”
“You’ll see.”
Quickly, he starts looking around the venue, seemingly searching for someone.
Then, before long, he grabs my hand and shouts, “You’ll love these people.
” And he pulls me along. I follow him, having absolutely no idea where we’re going.
What people? Wait, so it’s not just us? I don’t think I like that idea.
And when Cody stops in front of a small group, I know I don’t like this. I’m looking at models—every single one of them is gorgeous.
Luc puts his hand on my shoulder and leans into my ear. “These are the people I meant. I’ll go say hello.”
Adding to my nerves, he then moves away from me and starts greeting them one by one, giving all four of them a kiss on each cheek.
They greet him back equally heartedly. Okay, what the hell is going on?
Is he trying to make me jealous, because if he is, it’s working.
I can’t compete with these people. They’re younger, hotter, hipper, fitter, and . . . I could go on.
For the sake of politeness, I introduce myself to them.
I think I caught the name of the first one—a transgender person—with beautiful facial features accentuated by makeup, brown hair, a pair of beautiful bedroom eyes, and sharp cheekbones.
They’re called Maxime. The others are guys, and I miss the name of two of them, being too caught up in my own emotions.
But I do manage to catch the name of the fourth one, a guy named Jean, who has dark skin, full lips, and deep eyes that seem inviting.
Sex appeal is the term that comes to me.
Regardless, I don’t give a damn. These people may be attractive, but I’m not here for them.
We’ve only been here for a minute, and I already know every single one of them has the appearance and attitude of a stuck-up model.
They’re looking me up and down, judging me, making me feel like a piece of meat, and I don’t care for it.
But what I like even less is that Luc wanted to be here, surrounding himself with them, and I don’t understand why.
“Well, what do you think of them?” Luc shouts into my ear after I rushed through the introductions.
I frown at him, unhappy with the situation. What am I supposed to think? “Are they . . . friends of yours?”
“Oui,” Luc says. When I follow his gaze, I see him staring at the man whose name I missed.
He’s looking at me in a way that tells me I must have won his approval somehow, because he’s eyeing me with something I can only describe as want.
Well, as long as he’s interested in me and not in Luc, there’ll be one person less I have to worry about.
“They’re the reason we didn’t have to stand in line,” Luc adds.
“Great,” I force myself to say, not meaning it. The truth is, even just standing outside with Luc, waiting, would have been better than this.
“So,” Luc starts. His shoulder is pressed against mine, and he’s tensed for reasons unknown to me. “What do you think? Do you want to buy any of them a drink?”
I curse internally. God, do I have to? I mean, I can afford it, but this club looks pricey, and from what I can tell based on their clothes, Luc’s friends have expensive taste.
I shrug. “I don’t really know them. I mean, I will if you want me to, but I’d rather just buy drinks for you and me.”
For some reason, that causes him to smile and relax a little. “Okay, you can buy me a drink. Only me.”
I nod and look around, searching for the bar.
As in any decent club, it’s easy to spot, but it still takes us a while to get there, weaving our way through the crowd.
When, after fifteen minutes, we finally have our drinks, I’m around twenty euros lighter, and Luc and I struggle through the masses trying to get back to his friends.
If it were up to me, we would stay away from them, but it’s hard to tell Luc how I feel over the loud music.
I can barely hear a word he says, let alone start a whole conversation.
Once we get out of here, though, I’ll ask him about the meaning of this.
“Merci, mon chéri,” Luc says when we’re back with the group, our drinks in hand.
He stays close to me, focusing on me, only occasionally glancing over at his friends, who are now sometimes laughing with each other, sometimes dancing.
But Luc’s with me, actually acting a little clingy, and then, when he presses up even closer against me, it suddenly hits me.
Luc isn’t trying to make me—or his attractive friends—jealous. He’s not even really paying attention to them. He’s looking at me; his hands are on me.
He’s . . . he’s testing me. That has to be it.
It’s why he wanted to come here and asked me if I wanted to buy any of them drinks.
That’s why he’s keeping such a close eye on me, to see if I’m interested in them.
Earlier today, I told him I want something serious with him, and the first thing he does is surround me with gorgeous people, each one even more attractive than the other.
Young, French-speaking models with cheekbones that seem to reach for the skies.
Tight, athletic bodies, and full lips, confidence and sex appeal exuding from them.
But I’m not interested in them; I’ve been mainly worried that Luc’s not into me.
My head and heart decided what they wanted the moment I stepped into the cake shop.
And now he’s dragged me here, not to show off who else he could be with instead, not because he wants any of them, but because he wanted to see if he’s truly the only one I want. Well. That’s easy to answer.
Knowing his intentions causes me to crush on him even harder.
Nothing stops me from wrapping my arms around him, pulling him close, and kissing him until the music and everything else fades into the background.
He responds eagerly; his hands are on my chest, his tongue is in my mouth, and once we pull up for air, he’s smiling at me. He looks relieved, the same way I feel.
Well, maybe this club visit wasn’t so bad after all. I’d go to the club every night if it meant I could prove I’m serious about him. Although . . . maybe not every night. I still have a job to do, responsibilities to fulfill, and also very important . . . sleeping.
Which is why, as the night proceeds, it’s a good thing for me that just before one a.m., Luc tells me he wants to leave.
I don’t know why, I don’t ask him. Maybe it’s because he’s tired or—and this is what I find more likely—he’s completed his mission now that I’ve spent the entire night ignoring his friends.
It wasn’t even hard . . . unlike something else. All that kissing turned me on.
We exit the club, and once we do, my mouth almost falls open when I see the line in front of the entrance; it’s even longer now.
The same bouncer who was here earlier tonight gives Luc a nod as he leaves, seemingly unbothered by any of it.
That guy doesn’t seem easily fazed, which is probably a good thing given the number of drunk people I spot already in the line.
“You want me to walk you home?” I ask him. Maybe not the best timing—I just readjusted my crotch area, and he noticed.
“Still hard?”
“Very. You?”
“Yes. So maybe you shouldn’t walk me home.”
I wave it off. “Don’t be silly. You’re my date. I’ll walk you home and leave you safely at the door. Although I must say, visiting a nightclub isn’t exactly my idea of a date.”
“Well, too bad,” he says, smirking. “Because for me it is. As long as I have fun anyway, which tonight I did.”
“Most we did was making out.”
“Exactly . . . fun.”
I chuckle. “Okay, fair. It was fun. And your friends are . . . nice.” Even I know my hesitation couldn’t be missed.
He snorts softly. “You don’t really care for them, do you?”
“Not really, no.”
“That’s great.” His face turns red. “I mean, that’s alright,” he says, quickly correcting himself. “Sorry, language barrier.”
I chuckle internally. I know that in fact, he does think it’s great that I don’t like his attractive friends.
“Why are you friends with them anyway?”
He shrugs. “They’re fun, and they’re known models, which allows them to get into any place anytime, which means I do too, when I’m with them. And they really know how to have a good time.”
“I thought your idea of fun was making out?”
He smirks. “It is. But don’t worry, I don’t make out with them anymore.”
My jaw drops. “With them? As in, plural?! And what do you mean by anymore?”
Damn, now I really am jealous, and he sees it—likes it too, apparently. He’s actually beaming at me.
“Relax,” he says, snickering. “I never slept with any of them. It was just drunk kissing.”
I must admit, that is what I was worried about .
. . the sex part. Deep down, I know I have no right to judge what he did before he met me, but knowing he hasn’t slept with them calms me down, so I say, “Oh, okay.” It also helps that he and I just had a long, passionate make-out session right in front of them, and no one seemed to care.
“So, where do we go from here?” he asks. “Seeing as you didn’t consider this a date?”
My worry fades as I’m reminded of the possibilities between us. “That’s easy, princess. I plan to take you on all kinds of dates until you’ve fallen for me . . . and probably after that too.”
He leans toward me and places his hands on my chest before leaning in for another kiss. “I look forward to that.”
I think that applies to me more.