37. Dive Bar Dancing with the Hot Guy
37
Dive Bar Dancing with the Hot Guy
You
The next morning, you enjoy a lovely fancy breakfast overlooking the bay, and then have to pack up and head home. It feels…kind of sad and dull being in your tiny studio apartment again, no longer on that superyacht.
Or—it would be sad, if it weren’t for what’s in front of you.
You’ve just emerged refreshed and dressed after a nice, hot shower, when you see Ziros.
Shirtless.
On the floor.
It takes your brain a full second to register what you’re seeing.
The muscles of his back flex, his biceps taut as he lowers himself nearly to the ground, then back up. And does it again.
And again.
You stare from the doorway, your head tilting up and down as you follow his movements.
He’s doing push-ups.
And holy heck, does he look good doing them.
He pauses in the middle of a set, still facing away from you, body straight and muscles taut as he asks, “Are you just going to stand there staring at me all day, human?”
You freeze, heat rushing to your face. “I’m not staring!”
How did he know!?
He’s not even looking at you!
He just laughs, resuming his set. And a part of you wonders if maybe he likes the attention. If maybe he’s doing this on purpose just to show-off.
Not that you exactly mind.
“So I don’t have to work today,” you say, leaning against the edge of the kitchen counter. “That means we can do whatever. I was thinking…how about a movie? If we go early enough, we can probably still get the cheaper matinee price.”
“A movie?” Ziros asks, stopping mid push-up.
He flips over, and he smirks when your eyes flick down to his abs.
Ooops . Caught again.
“Yeah. It’s like a play, but the people aren’t there—they’re filmed and projected on the screen.”
“Okay,” he says, standing up with a shrug as he heads for the bathroom. Hopefully to shower, because he’s covered in sweat. With one hand on the doorframe, he pauses and glances back at you. And maybe he’s lingering there shirtless on purpose again just so you can check him out. “I’m in.”
* * *
That evening, you emerge from the theater just after dark
Ziros was surprisingly chill.
He only stood up and tried to yell at the people on screen once before you shushed him.
And…it was kind of nice. It felt like a real date. He even wrapped his arm around your shoulder, letting you lean against him.
And even though you know you should really work on the whole setting-Ziros-free thing, you’re kinda getting used to having him around.
You’ve only known each other a few days, but it feels like you’ve known him for all eternity.
And not in a bad way.
You hardly even remember the plot of the generic action movie you watched. You were too busy remembering how good he looked working out.
And thinking about how he must have been so bored all those years trapped in that void with nothing to do but exercise.
Alone.
Thinking about Ziros suffering by himself all those years…it must have been mind-numbing. How did he even manage to stay sane?
“You don’t look happy,” he says as you walk out together, and you flinch.
Oops again.
He’s perceptive.
“I was just thinking,” you admit, lowering your voice as you head for the lobby. “I was thinking about you in that void. It sounds like torture.”
“It was.”
You’re quiet after that, not really sure what to say.
And even though you know things are okay now, you still kinda want to do something to cheer him up, something to lighten the mood.
It’s a cool but clear night, no rain in sight, and the streets are just coming alive with people.
Maybe it’s a good time to do something adventurous.
“Hey.” You ask, “Ever been to a club?”
If Corrine were free tonight, she’d be all over this idea.
“A club? Like a weapon?”
“No, silly. A dance club!”
“I’ve been to a ball or two in my time.”
You stop walking.
“A…ball?”
Did he seriously just say he’s been to a ball?
Now you can’t help but picture Ziros in an old-fashioned costume, dancing a waltz at some sort of fancy royal party.
“Of course. I was very well-connected back in the day, you know.”
“Okay, but it’s not that kind of dancing.”
“No?”
“No. Now I have to take you. Come on,” you say, leading him down the street toward a club that, well, if you’re honest, is probably more of a dive bar.
A place you only went to once, back when Corrine talked you into it.
And it really is a literal dive.
It’s downstairs in the basement of an old building, and the dance floor is already sticky with spilled beer. Probably not a great sign, considering it’s barely even dark outside, but hey—you’re here with the best bodyguard you could get.
What could go wrong?
Well.
Aside from maybe a monster attack.
Or that weird cashier dude showing up. Because sometimes you’ve started to get the bad feeling he’s stalking you—but that’s probably silly.
Or maybe this place will turn out to be owned by that blond vampire who let you stay on his superyacht.
Or…
Or it’s just a normal dive bar.
Yeah.
That’s probably the case.
Which is honestly kinda dangerous enough. It’s not even late in the evening, and it’s already so packed, you have to squeeze through dozens of dirty-dancing couples just to make it to the bar.
Oh.
That’s why.
It’s their Friday night special—the drinks start at a dollar and go up every hour.
And they just started.
Well, at least they’re cheap!
It takes a good twenty minutes for you to get served, but at least Ziros makes a great physical barrier to keep the surging crowd from smashing you while you wait for the bartender.
You and Ziros take your questionable-looking drinks (they’re so brightly colored, they’re probably 90% food coloring, yikes), and carry them over to the dance floor.
You’d take them to a table, but the tables are already packed.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
But you know, you’ve already got your drinks. Sunk-cost fallacy and all.
“I think I see what you mean,” Ziros says in your ear, making you jump—nearly spilling your drink.
But talking directly in your ear is the only way you can hear him over the thudding of the bass.
“What?” you ask, trying to see what he’s talking about.
He takes your jaw, catching you by surprise as he turns your head. And—ah, yep. There’s a couple dancing so vigorously that if they weren’t wearing their clothing, well—
You laugh, not that Ziros can hear you. Or can he?
It’s hard to say how good his hearing might really be.
And he looks amused by this entire endeavor.
“ Humans ,” he mutters, shaking his head as he takes a long sip of his toxic-colored drink. Leaning close to your ear again, he asks, “You brought me here to dance like that? You know…we could just do that at home.”
You nearly spit out your drink.
And man, despite it being cheap, for some reason you’re really starting to feel it.
Maybe because you haven’t actually had dinner yet.
Ziros, of course, appears completely unaffected.
“You can’t just say stuff like that so casually,” you say, blushing.
“Why?” He smirks, catching your jaw again with one hand, turning your head toward him as he moves closer behind you. Pressing closer still, until all you until all you can feel is the heat of his body against yours.
And then he leans in, his lips brushing yours in the dark club, the neon lights flashing overhead.
His eyes lock with yours, deep, drowning blue staring back at you before he lets go of jaw, pulling back.
You’re expecting him to stop.
To pull away completely.
But he doesn’t.
He catches the small of your back, turning you back to face him. Pressing you against him. Watching you with eyes wide open as he kisses you fully now, harder. And you’re pretty sure people around you are looking, but you don’t care, can’t care.
And then—
You stumble, dropping to your knees as a wave of dizziness washes over you.
Oh, no.
It’s the drink.
The stupid, neon-green drink you somehow already nearly finished.
There were probably like four shots of cheap vodka in there. How this place sustains their bottom line with that much booze, you’ll never know. Or maybe it’s just all the food coloring, but suddenly you feel like you’re going to be sick.
“I’m sorry,” you call over your shoulder as you pick yourself up, stumbling toward the ladies’ restroom.
Everything is blurry. It’s hard to even stay standing as you stumble.
There’s two doors to this bathroom—like one of those airport ones, you can go in either side.
And the world is spinning so hard by the time you make it to a stall, you have to grip the walls just to keep standing.
This was not how you envisioned this night going down.
But…
Maybe you still have a little luck, because after a few minutes, the nausea finally passes, and you’re okay. Crisis averted.
Mostly.
“Weird,” you mutter, shaking your head as you splash cold water on your face at the row of sinks.
You’re definitely still not fully of sound mind yet, though.
And things are still a little dizzy.
Because as you turn around, ready to go back and find Ziros…you realize you don’t remember which door you came in from.
And when you get outside, he’s not there waiting for you.
Maybe you took the wrong exit.
You take a few more steps out into the crowded club, trying to see if there’s a stupidly tall, handsome, dark-haired, steel-blue eyed hunk of a man standing around with looks that could kill.
Ziros is kind of hard to miss.
But he’s not there.
Not unless a pack of thirsty very-tall ladies got him cornered and surrounded while you were down for the count.
You swivel, planning to head back into the restroom and out the other door, when someone grabs your arm.
“Zir—” you start to ask, expecting it to be him.
But the face that you turn to find is dark and shadowed and angry. And a lot less handsome, if you’re being honest.
“You’re coming with us,” growls the strange man, clamping a meaty hand over your mouth and dragging you out the back door so fast, you don’t even have time to wonder what kind of horrible action movie you just fell into.