Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Naomi
My heels are high, my lips are painted red, and my legs are shaved and oiled to the point they practically slip against each other as I walk the streets of Seattle.
In hindsight, maybe I should have found someone to come with me—Capitol Hill isn’t exactly the safest area.
Then again, even on a weeknight, there are tons of people going in and out of bars and nightclubs. I’m sure I’ll be fine.
I haven’t gone out much, at least not by myself, so I don’t know where the best places are.
Part of me even contemplated going back to the sex club, but I quickly put that thought out of my head.
Tonight is about empowerment. If I meet someone and they’re hot and we end up sleeping together…
well, I’m not saying no. I’m also not going out in search of it either.
Finally, I stop at a club that has some familiar dance music playing. There—decision made. If the place sucks, at least the music won’t.
I walk over to join the line, but a moment later, the doorman waves me over to him.
Frowning, I slowly step out of the queue and obey.
I don’t know why I’m nervous—it’s not like I’ve done anything wrong.
I got in the correct line, right? Is he going to tell me I’m not dressed appropriately, or maybe they’re at capacity and I shouldn’t bother waiting.
I really wish every moment of my life didn’t send me into a spiraling meltdown, but here we are.
When I reach the man, I begin twirling the handle of my purse nervously. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
He nods. “ID?”
I hesitate for a moment before pulling out my driver’s license. He looks at it quickly then steps to the side.
“Come on in.”
I look back at the long line of people who are now glaring at me.
I’ve never been that person who cuts lines or even thinks they’re good-looking enough to do so.
How embarrassing would that be if you got called out for it and sent to the back of the line?
Nope, no way. Couldn’t be me. I’d crawl into the dumpster round the corner before I did that.
I look back at the bouncer, who still has his arm extended, his patience clearly waning, then decide to step through.
Instantly, I’m immersed in a dark hallway which then breaks through to a room filled with bright flashing lights. There’s a live band on stage and people dancing everywhere.
This is why it’s helpful to go out with friends—you never feel awkward or out of place with them.
But when you’re by yourself, everyone’s eyes come to you, almost like you have the word “loser” stamped across your forehead.
Okay, that’s probably just my insecurity coming out, but that’s how it feels as I carefully move through the crowd towards the bar.
“What can I get ya?” the bartender shouts over the beat.
“Um, vodka tonic?”
He nods, grabs a bottle of vodka from behind him and quickly mixes the drink.
“Want to keep it open?” he asks as I hand him my card.
I look around the place. Despite feeling a little uneasy that I’m alone, I’m starting to get used to it.
“Yes please.”
He nods, swipes it then hands it back to me, along with my drink.
I take a sip and wince as the alcohol singes the back of my throat. No pain, no gain, right? Technically, I think that saying is about working out, but I think mustering as much liquid courage as possible should count too.
I throw the rest of the drink back, cringing again at the burn, then catch the bartender’s attention as I set my glass on the bar.
“Another please.”
He nods and pours me another as someone drops a card on the counter beside me. A man with a bright white smile, blue eyes and dirty blonde hair smiles down at me before talking to the bartender.
“Put it on my tab, Nicky. I’ll do a double shot of Pendleton.”
“You got it,” the bartender says to the guy, who’s already back to smiling at me.
“I’m Brett,” he says, holding out his hand for me to shake.
I look down at it for a moment, and I can feel myself shrinking back.
Why, though? He’s handsome, showing interest in me and seems nice so far.
Isn’t this the exact reason I came out tonight?
To get out there, get some experience? In this case, that means not running away the instant a good-looking guy looks my way.
“Naomi,” I say with a small smile, forcing my anxiety to the side as I shake his hand.
He grins. “Beautiful.”
The bartender returns with our drinks, and Brett lifts his to me with a smile.
“Cheers.”
I clink my glass against his then knock the drink back in one chug. I cough through the sting of the alcohol, and Brett looks at me curiously before nodding to the dance floor.
“You want to dance?”
“Um… sure. Let’s.”
I only hesitated for a second there. Look at me go.
Brett shoots his drink in one go too, then offers me his hand and guides us through the crowded dance floor. Bodies brush into us occasionally, but when I look at them, I see that everyone is just too lost in their own moment to care, and I kinda love that.
When we’re in the center of the crowd, Brett turns to face me, sliding one arm around my lower waist as he begins swaying to the music.
I dance in place for a moment before deciding to be a little braver.
I inch towards him a little at a time, but when he notices this, he grins and yanks me against him, forcing his leg in between my thighs.
I gasp at the brazen move, and he ducks his head down to whisper against my ear.
“You’re so fucking hot.”
I smile up at him from beneath my lashes then rest my hands on his biceps, and steadily, we find a rhythm, dancing to song after song.
The alcohol is pulsing through me already, especially with the empty stomach I’m currently working with.
That’s why when Brett gets us another round and I slam it just like the others, the whole world starts to spin.
Or maybe that’s the dancing. I couldn’t really tell you.
The tempo picks up as the song shifts, and Brett’s hands begin to wander. Panic starts to rise inside me, but I force it away. This is exactly the kind of stuff Cassi was talking about. I play things too safe; I don’t take risks. I run before anything exciting can ever happen in my life.
But not tonight.
Brett slips a hand beneath my dress, slowly snaking his way towards my panties as he smiles down at me and presses his lips to mine.
The kiss catches me by surprise, and that nervous ball in my stomach intensifies.
But in a good way I think? Honestly, the drinks have me all but floating, and I’m not sure I could stop if I wanted to right now. I don’t want to, though—I think.
I kiss him back and start to wind my arms around his neck, mainly for stability—and then I’m suddenly ripped backward.
I stumble several feet before landing on my ass, the thud audible even over the loud beat of the song, and several people stare at me while a man in a leather jacket has Brett’s shirt balled in his fists.
They shout at each other for a moment, but I can’t really make out what they’re saying.
Then the leather-jacket dude rears his head back before cracking Brett in the nose.
Brett stumbles backward, and several people rush to check on him. One man even tries to pull the guy in the leather jacket away, but that Good Samaritan is rewarded with a sucker punch to the face before Brett’s attacker turns to me. The instant he does, my heart sinks.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or if I really am seeing what I’m seeing right now, but that’s Kolter stalking towards me, undiluted rage on his face.
He bends down then throws me over his shoulder, and the entire world tips upside down.
A wave of nausea slams into me. I gag for a moment as we step out of the bar, and Kolter growls at me over his shoulder.
“You better not fucking puke on me.”
Well, he’s asked so nicely, I’m semi-tempted.
“Where’re we going?” I slur.
Dang, I guess I’m more buzzed than I thought.
I feel him shake his head. “To get you sober,” he grumbles.
“I’m fine!” I argue. “I wanna dance. Let me go!” I shout and begin beating on his back.
My blows don’t affect him in the slightest, though his arms do tighten around my legs, like he’s expecting me to start kicking. Not a bad plan.
“Yeah, I don’t think your dance partner is up for another song,” he sneers.
“What about you?” I ask. Realizing quickly how that sounds, I add, “I mean, if he’s hurt, so are you, right? A headbutt isn’t a good idea for anyone.”
In an instant, my world is flipped on its head once more, Kolter swinging me forward until I land on my feet. My ankles buckle, thanks to my heels, so he holds me under the arms, keeping me from sprawling on the sidewalk as he stares down at me.
“I’ve got a hard head.”
I can’t help but laugh at that and nod in agreement. “You don’t have to convince me you’re hard-headed.”
His eyes narrow like daggers before he grabs the front door to a diner. “How can you be this buzzed and still a smart-ass?” he asks, gesturing for me to step inside.
“How can you be this grumpy and still so cute?” I wonder, a giggle escaping before I can stop myself.
Oh my gosh. Did I just say that out loud?
Kolter is staring at me with a blank expression, so I rush into the diner, hoping to avoid eye contact with him—for the rest of my life if possible.
I grab a seat in a booth then cradle my head in my hands. The world hasn’t stopped spinning since Kolter first tipped me upside down, and sadly I don’t see any relief in sight.
I listen to his heavy footsteps as he approaches, but he doesn’t sit down. Slowly, I lift my head out of my hands and look up at him.
“You’re in my seat,” he says flatly.
My brows furrow as I look to the other side of the booth. “They’re identical.”
His expression is hard and unyielding as he continues to stare me down. “This one faces the door. I always face the door.”