34. Dollie—present day
Dollie—present day
B odies bump into me, and the music gets louder. It’s almost too much for me—each word the singer voices fights for priority over the beat accompanying her.
The sound is too much, and a glance around reveals no pink eyes in sight. My shoulders slump with defeat, and it feels like being here is no longer worth the stress it brings.
I actually thought he’d come.
That he might want to see me as much as I want to see him.
But I’m still alone, and now I’m panicking on the dance floor as too many people get too close.
I step back into strong hands, and they grip my hips. One finds my hand and uses it to pull it over my head far enough for me to twirl beneath our joining.
Pink eyes, resembling two Xs, glow, and I wonder how well he can even see me.
Without saying anything, I place my hands on his shoulders as the upbeat song finishes and something more romantic starts.
He must be cold because his tattered tee is covered by a hoodie now. It looks like one I’d like to steal if only it were my color.
The floor gets a little quieter, giving us room to move around without stepping on the painted toes of the dozens of women still under the disco light.
I see very few of them because Lucky’s height and broad shoulders block out the room.
Made up little details flood my brain as I try to create a mental picture of Lucky beneath the mask.
I bet he has beautiful eyes.
Brown? No, he gives green eye vibes.
Is that even a thing, green eye vibes?
His lips, I bet they’re pouty and kissable.
I get lost for a moment, letting the music carry me away.
Lost in an image of him that isn’t even real.
But it’s been too long since I felt wanted, desired. I ache for it. For his hands to roam and grip and pull me closer.
As if hearing my thoughts, his hands hold me like he’s scared to let me go, but also scared to touch me. It makes me act so recklessly.
Impulse shifts my hands from his shoulders to the curve of his mask, and I lift it enough just to reveal his mouth.
He doesn’t stop me, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest makes it obvious he’s nervous about this.
I try to get a good look at him, but the disco lights flash around us, never on us, making it impossible to discover if his mouth is as I pictured it.
It’s too damn dark, but for once, I feel safe in the dark.
I feel… too much.
A crazy feeling comes from nowhere and urges me to find out what his lips would be like, the only way I can.
Using my tippy toes, I stretch as high as possible and place my lips a breath from his.
A whirl of emotions that never make it up and out of my throat crash in my stomach when he pulls back.
His hands stiffen on me, and mine leave his body, raising into the air in surrender.
He doesn’t want this.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I shout over the music.
And what was I thinking? Why did I think he’d want to kiss me? Why did I think any of this was a good idea?
I twist to walk away, but he pulls me back by the hand, and I slam into his chest. Tipping my chin up, his mouth lands on mine, proving that he not only feels like my idea of him but that he tastes better than I imagined. Sucking my lower lip into his mouth, his tongue enters mine.
I’ve never had a kiss that makes my knees weak, and my stomach flutter with nerves of excitement.
Until right now.
I let his tongue move against mine, and I enjoy the feel of him in my mouth.
And then it all ends.
Our moment is cut short by a short brunette in giant heels that make her so regal and goddess-like.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Her talon-like claws press into Lucky’s bicep. The bicep flexes as he yanks his arm away from her and wipes me from his mouth. He pulls down his mask immediately.
The light now twinkling above us gives me a front-row view as he turns to the woman, but before he can talk, she snaps, “I don’t even want to hear today’s excuse for your behavior!”
Her eyes move to me, the disappointment in them fading away slightly.
And maybe I’m jumping the gun, but it makes me feel like I’m one of many women this man has hurt this woman with.
“I’m sorry,” is all I manage before I rush from the dance floor.
Lucky adds insult to her injury by reaching for me, but I shake his hand from mine, and once more, I apologize to the woman who gets between us.
The anger on her face has me squeezing through people to get outside as quickly as possible.
I sit in the cold air, letting it berate me because someone has to.
“God, how could I be so stupid? How did I never think to ask if he was single?” And why would I trust any guy after my experience with Shane.
Shane, who has left me another fifteen messages when I pull out my phone from my purse, ready to text Annabelle, and then an Uber.
I don’t get the chance as the door crashes open behind me.
Startled, I jump up from the step that’s left a chill on the back of my legs and spin around, finding Annabelle.
“Why are you out here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“I was just about to text you. Can we leave?”
“Yes, we have to. We have to get to your house ASAP.”
“Is it Ambrose?” I don’t want him hurt, despite the distance between us. “Is it Bubbles?”
“It’s neither of those.”
“So, what’s happened?”
“I’ll explain on the way. There’s a taxi bay just down here.” Annabelle points, leading the way.
She says nothing on her march to the shiny black car, but the look on her face tells me it’s bad.