Chapter 1 #2
They sweep me into their group. Everyone at the party is animated and fun, sharing exciting stories and discussing various topics. I flit from one group to the next, casting off any self-consciousness and letting the energy of the crowd buoy me up after months of sinking.
It’s loud and light. It’s a whirlwind I want to sweep me off my feet.
“You good?” Alex asks. He comes up beside me and his fingers press into the small of my back.
I smile up at him, pausing as two of him swim before me. I blink, focus, and—there he is. “I’m great!” I gush. I don’t know how many drinks I tossed back, but the last two have certainly pushed me over the edge.
I don’t care. Tonight, I want to live dangerously. Recklessly. For the moment. And this is such a beautiful moment.
“I’m glad,” Alex murmurs. His hand flattens in the center of my back, slides down and rests on the swell of my ass.
I tilt into his side, eager for his warmth. Connection.
We hang around for a few more minutes and I listen as Alex asks a few questions to the group I was chatting with before he appeared. Then, he takes my hand and leads me up a winding staircase.
I go willingly, giggling when my toe catches on a step.
“Careful, love,” he warns.
Love. Derek called me that a time or two. It used to mean something different when he said it. There was a weight to his word, a significance in his tone.
It doesn’t matter now.
We clear the steps and Alex guides me into a bedroom. The balcony door is open and the sound of the sea—churning waves and restless water—washes over me. I turn in his arms and lift my chin, ready to meet his kiss.
He dips down and presses his mouth to mine. Hard, firm, and the distraction I’ve sought all evening.
Our restraint breaks free. The sly glances and quips of the night dissolve in hot, tracking hands and needy, panting breaths. I reach for Alex’s pants as he pulls off my shirt. Our clothes form a puddle on the floor. He quickly rolls on a condom.
Clashing teeth, clumsy movements, and then—“Right there,” I pant. He enters me on a sharp thrust, pinning my back between the bedroom wall and his hard body.
He fucks me with intention. The need to get off, the desire for release claws up the back of my throat, and I sink my nails into Alex’s shoulders. He’s relentless and it’s just what I need. Angry and edgy and filled with delicious friction.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmurs. His fingers sink into my ass and grip hard enough to bruise.
I grind against him, throwing my head back. “More.”
“Got you,” he promises, working me to the edge. “Get there, babe. Get there.”
I do. I come hard, swearing at him, as he continues to thrust.
“Fuck,” he groans as he reaches his peak.
When he stills inside of me, the scent of our desperation colors the air. Our skin is sticky, our breathing uneven.
I feel him slowly soften inside me before he pulls out and gently places me on my feet.
“You good?” he asks, much like he did twenty minutes out.
“Great,” I exhale, trying to regulate my breathing.
Alex nods and disappears into the bathroom.
The breeze ripples over my heated skin, causing a flash of goosebumps to break out along my arms, down the center of my stomach.
I dress quickly, fixing my top to make sure I’m not flashing too much.
Alex reemerges. “You want a ride back to your car?” he offers.
“Sure,” I say casually.
There aren’t two of him anymore, but I’m not sober enough to drive. Is he? I shrug. I’m ready to go. I got what I came for and now, I’m tired. Spent. Wanting to be on my own after too much stimulation, too much connectedness.
I find my phone in my purse and consider messaging the girls or calling Nova for a ride.
But I don’t want to hear the concern in her tone or explain that I had a perfectly good one-night fuck with a guy whose last name I don’t know. Not that Nova would judge. In the morning light, I would.
Or at least, I used to.
Instead, I follow Alex back down the stairs and out to his car. He drives me back to Beirut and drops me off. I stumble through the parking lot, around the side of the building to where I parked.
When I get there, I brace a palm against the side of my car and hunch forward.
The evening churns in my mind. The alcohol burns the lining of my stomach. Acid and regret. Fuck.
My hands grow clammy, and the skin on the back of my neck tightens. I dip farther forward, just as a stream of vomit pours from my throat.
I groan, knowing I should care more about the splatters that kick up and dot along my shoes.
“Gross,” I scold myself.
I roll toward my car, dropping my head along my forearm. Take a deep breath in, a slow exhale out.
Images of Derek flicker through my mind. I still taste his kiss. Recall the weight of his body against mine. Remember his words, his voice, the vulnerability in his gaze, when he entered me.
Lies. All fucking lies.
“Hey, you’re okay,” a voice says right before a heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “Can’t drive like this.”
The hand shakes me gently and I manage to drag my head up. Force my eyes open.
Whiskey eyes swim before mine.
“Need to sober you up,” the man says, leading me toward Beirut. He pulls open the back door and eases me into a chair at the bar.
I slump over. My eyes close on their own accord.
A thump rattles me awake.
“Drink it,” the man demands, nudging a glass of water closer. “I put on a pot of coffee.”
“I, um, yeah. Thanks,” I stammer. I reach for the cool water and take a few gulps. It makes me more alert, and when I set the glass down, I turn my attention toward the stranger. He looks vaguely familiar.
“You work for me?” he asks.
Ah. “You’re Dex?” I guess, naming the elusive owner Devy told me about.
“Guilty.” He holds out a hand and I shake it.
“I’m Allegra.” My cheeks blaze with embarrassment. I can only guess at what Dex is thinking. Shit. I wince. Is he going to fire me?
“Cocktail server?”
I nod.
“You make this a habit?” His flips his chin in my direction.
“Not usually,” I admit.
“Bad night?”
“Bad quarter,” I answer honestly.
The corner of his mouth twitches, but his eyes darken with concern. “You want to keep working here, you can’t get fucked up and drive home.”
“I know.”
He pours me a cup of coffee. We sit in an easy silence while I sip it.
“I’m going to give you a ride. You can come get your car tomorrow. And then, when you’re sober, we’re going to talk.” He swipes his keys off the bar and gestures for me to slip off the stool.
I follow him out to his ride. A swell of déjà vu, from hours earlier, envelops me. It’s like I’m retracing my steps. Going through the motions with no destination, no end goal, in mind.
“Are you going to fire me?” I ask, my voice cracking. I really need this job; I need the money.
“Not yet,” Dex mutters, pulling out of the parking lot. “Tell me how to get to your place.”
I do.
We make the drive in silence, and when we pull in front of my tiny studio in a run-down part of town, Dex lifts an eyebrow. “Tomorrow. Come in around noon. We’re gonna talk.”
“Okay,” I agree, feeling adequately scolded. Even though Dex has been decent, kind even, the look he turns my way reminds me of my dad. Stern and firm and serious.
“You don’t show, you’re out of a job.”
“I’ll be there,” I promise.
Dex nods once and I slide from his SUV.
He waits until I’m inside before pulling away, and the action soothes something deep inside me.
Maybe there are still good men. Guys who truly care.
Maybe I’m just not meant for them.
My dad taught me that. Levi solidified it. And Derek? Derek shattered whatever semblance of hope I had left.
I’m hungover and embarrassed when I shuffle into Beirut the following day.
“Morning,” Dex greets me.
I lift a hand to wave.
He tilts his head toward the back. “Let’s go to my office. Talk.”
I follow him into the small office space. It’s tastefully decorated, with an understated nautical theme. Calming blues and crisp whites. A framed image of a rolling wave.
“I thought you don’t spend a lot of time here,” I blurt out, wondering why I haven’t met him before last night when he obviously works from this office.
“I’m usually around a lot more,” he clarifies. “The past few months have been an exception. Take a seat.” He points to the chair in front of his desk.
I sit down and wait as he settles his large body into the chair across from mine. He’s an imposing man but he has a compassionate glint in his eyes that puts me at ease.
Dex sighs. “I spoke to Devy. I know you’re a fantastic server and have great rapport with a lot of the customers. Natural likeability.”
“Thank you.”
“But you can’t work here if you’re going out, getting blitzed, and driving drunk.” His voice is steel.
“I know,” I say quietly.
“Not because I’m a hard ass, but because you’re better than that. And there are better ways to cope with your stuff.”
My eyebrows pull together as I stare at him.
Dex sighs again. He steeples his hands in front of his face.
I wait for his sentencing. He said he wouldn’t fire me but that was last night. Now that he’s had more time to think it over, is going to cut me loose?
“You remind me of me,” he says, surprising me.
“What?” I rear back.
He grins. “A little lost, a little lonely, a little rattled,” he lists, unnerving me.
I meet his gaze and clamp my mouth shut, not confirming, or denying his assessment.
“That door,” he points to his office door, “is always open. To everyone who works for me. To every customer that comes into Beirut. I’ve been around the block a few times.
I’ve had my fair share of struggles. I know what it’s like to be lost and lonely and rattled.
And I hate seeing when other people are going through it.
But I promise you, there are better ways to handle it.
You need to talk? You need to blow off steam?
You need to vent or get another opinion or toss ideas against a sounding board?
Use that door. Not the bottle, not the pills, and not my parking lot to puke your guts up in. Cool?”
I stare at him. Is he letting me off this easy? Is he really giving me another shot? “Cool,” I agree.
Dex grins. “Great. Want to grab a coffee and a bite?”
I frown, wondering if that’s necessary. But my stomach chooses that moment to grumble.
Dex chuckles. I sigh.
“Sure,” I agree.
He unfolds his frame from behind his desk. I move toward the door, and he follows. We exit from the back door into the bright afternoon sunshine and fall into step as we move toward a little diner on the corner.
“Tell me about yourself, Allegra,” Dex makes conversation easily. In some ways, he reminds me of Buck.
I open my mouth, and without meaning to, start to confide in him. “I was born in Massachusetts, outside of Boston…”