14. Waverly
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WAVERLY
Y ou know what this tour has taught me more than anything else?
That I’m kind of a hussy.
I’ve never ached like I do right now, never craved the things that I’ve seen as Hannah has led me around the whole club, even taking me into the themed rooms, which raised more questions than I had answers to.
Would I like to be tied to a medical table and have someone test how receptive I am to them like the woman we just watched come repeatedly? I’m not sure. But it made me needy as hell, and I’m definitely not ruling it out.
“So what do you think?” Hannah asks as she leads me back toward the main floor.
“It’s…kind of a lot.” I half laugh.
She nods thoughtfully. “It’s overwhelming to begin with. When I first started coming here, I was searching for something, but I wasn’t sure what at the time. I never thought when I walked through those doors and saw someone getting railed that it would quickly become my favorite place in the world. The only place I can truly be myself.” Her soft smile brings a matching one to my lips, and I find myself liking the idea of being friends with her, something I have always shied away from in order to protect myself.
“Do you want to get a drink before you head off?” she asks.
“I’m sure there’s something you would rather be doing after being stuck with me all night.” I half laugh.
“No way! Let’s get a drink and celebrate all the dirty sex you’re going to have in these walls.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “I don’t know about that.” My cheeks heat at the thought, but Hannah only looks amused as she leads me toward the bar I was behind last night.
Abigail beams at me as we approach. “I had a feeling I’d be seeing you again. I’m glad they gave you the job!”
“So am I,” I admit.
“Wyatt brought the new schedule around earlier, and it looks like we have some shifts together over the next couple of weeks!” She seems genuinely excited at the idea of working with me, and I can’t help but lean into the feeling of being wanted. It’s not something I’ve ever really allowed myself to hope for. But in the last forty-eight hours, I’ve felt more wanted than I have in my entire life.
I try to ignore the way my chest constricts at that thought. How sad that I’m twenty-six years old and this is the first time I’ve ever felt like the people around me want me to stick around.
“Now, about that drink. I’m a tequila girl myself, how about you?” Hannah turns to me with a smile.
“I don’t really drink much,” I admit. It’s never been safe for me to do so before. I’ve always been too busy looking over my shoulder to allow myself to be that vulnerable.
Hannah and Abigail stare at me, their brows lifted in surprise. “A bartender that doesn’t drink,” Abigail shakes her head. “Can’t have that. I’ll make you both a cocktail, go sit.”
I open my mouth to argue, because once I leave here, I still have to walk home, but the argument dies on my lips when Hannah grasps my hand and drags me toward the booth Emmett was sitting in last night.
“Score! Usually the hot priest is sitting here, and it has the best view of the entire club.” She drags me into the booth, and I collapse into the soft leather beside her. A startled laugh escapes my throat, and for once I don’t bother trying to smother it. “Did you meet him last night?”
“Who?”
“Emmett? The hot-as-sin priest who likes to watch?” She waggles her brows at me, and I can’t help but giggle.
Hannah is a free spirit, and I’m more envious than I’ve ever been about someone’s personality. I can’t help but wonder what it’s like to be able to smile openly, to not be looking over my shoulder constantly, to be able to live without the threat of being taken. But I don’t know Hannah. Not really. I have no idea what she’s been through, and therefore I have no right to judge her. She may very well have just as much baggage as I do, she just feels safe here to allow herself to be vulnerable.
“I met him.” I nod, my cheeks heating at the memory of him on his bike this afternoon and how I felt his eyes on me the entire time I worked last night. There’s something about him that seems so familiar that if I believed in that kind of thing, I would wonder if I knew him in a past life.
Hannah gives me a knowing look but thankfully keeps her mouth shut as Abigail brings us our drinks. “Two pornstar martinis.” She beams, and I stare at the pink drink for long seconds waiting for the joke.
“Oh, you’re serious,” I murmur, pulling the martini glass closer to me.
“These things are the fucking best,” Hannah says as she immediately brings the glass to her lips and moans when the alcohol touches her tongue. “Especially when you make them, Ab.”
Abigail’s smile widens as she waits for me to take a drink. “Didn’t you say you’ve done bartending before?”
I nod. “I have, but more so at dive bars. Surprisingly, burly men don’t get pink drinks with names like a pornstar martini.” I giggle as I follow Hannah’s lead. My eyes fall closed as the tart combination of flavors overwhelms me, but the telltale warmth of alcohol accompanies it, and I quickly take another sip.
“I think she likes it,” Hannah comments.
“Oh, she definitely does,” Abigail agrees.
I carefully drop my glass back to the table and turn to them. “Can you teach me how to make them?”
She nods. “Of course. Thursdays are usually a little busy, but there will be plenty of time for some cocktail making lessons.”
H annah heads off to help another new signup, and I lean back in the booth and take in the space around me. It’s strange, when I first walked in last night, I wanted to turn my ass around and hightail it in the opposite direction. But now that I’ve spent some time here, it feels safe.
I’m not sure what that says about me when there’s literally a man being whipped on the stage right now, but it’s like I can finally allow some of the tension to bleed from my body.
Abigail is fluttering around the bar with a bright smile, but she checks in on me every now and then as I nurse my second cocktail.
I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not much of a drinker. Being vulnerable has never been my strong suit, but for some reason it feels okay to let go a little here.
“Waverly.” Emmett’s voice startles me from my thoughts, and I look up to meet his dark eyes. “I’m glad to see you’re back.”
I smile as he slips into the seat across from me, and I can’t help but think about last night when our places were reversed. “I’m glad to be back.”
“How are you finding it?”
“It’s…overwhelming. But kind of incredible,” I admit. The alcohol moving through my body has made me more relaxed than usual, and I’m not bothering to filter myself for once in my life, and it’s nice.
“It is,” he agrees.
“You weren’t watching tonight.”
He chuckles and brushes his fingers over his short stubble, but there’s a look in his eye that I can’t quite decipher. “Not from the booth, no.”
My brows tug together in confusion before I take a sip from my drink. This cocktail is a passionfruit mojito, and I’m pretty sure they’re dangerous as hell. I can’t even taste the alcohol.
“I stepped in to supervise the dungeon while they found someone to take over,” he explains.
“Oh. I didn’t see you down there during my tour.”
“You were a little distracted.” He smirks.
Heat touches my cheeks, and I tear my eyes away from him. I’m a little embarrassed that he saw how intrigued I was by the things I saw in those rooms, but there’s a part of me that likes that he knew I was there, that he was keeping an eye on me.
“You’re beautiful when you blush, Waverly.” He reaches across the table and brushes his thumb over my warm cheek, and I find myself leaning into him. “Would it be okay if I drove you home again tonight? I can’t stand the idea of you walking this late at night, especially after a couple of drinks.”
I nod. “As long as you brought your car and not the bike. I don’t know if I could handle that twice in one day.”
He stares at me for a moment, confusion filling his dark eyes before something I can only liken to a shield snaps into place, cutting his emotions off from my view.
“Don’t worry, I have my car.”