Chapter 19
NINETEEN
RILEY
We’re parked in the lot next to the club I’m too tired to be at. Hailey wanted to celebrate a goal she’s had for some time now. Officially tattooing two thousand people. She texted the entire group the day after I was with August, eating a hot dog on a bench.
Of course, I asked her how she was keeping track, and she showed me a little black book she carries around with all her clients' names in it. The notebook was beat to shit.
The girls drove in one car and the guys in another.
The shimmer of my sister’s long nails sparkles under the night light. Her black, high-waisted jeans are snug on her long legs, showing off her curvy hips. She has her black jean jacket that looks like it’s been put through the wringer, over her white crop top.
When I step out of the car, she’s an inch taller than me, thanks to her platform Doc Martens.
“Does my outfit look okay?” I tug on my maroon faux leather jacket that stops just above my hips before fixing my hair that I attempted to curl, only to end up looking like Shirley Temple. I had to wash it again and straighten it.
“You look hot, Ry.” Ellie points. “I wish I could wear a crop top and have that ass.”
“And you can?” Hailey puts a hand on her hip with a puzzled look at Ellie.
“I have a pouch.” Ellie taps on her stomach.
“And?”
Rowan approaches Ellie from behind when the guys get out of Beau’s car. He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest, and kisses the nape of her neck.
“Your body is perfect, baby,” he whispers in her ear.
Ellie lifts her shoulder in a tickling response.
“And it’s all mine.”
“Okay, break it up, you two.” August joins the group, along with Beau. “I don’t need to see my best friend on top of my sister.”
Ellie deadpans. “August, we’re grown adults, and engaged.”
August tucks his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “And? That doesn’t mean you need to consummate your engagement in front of me.”
I bite the corner of my lip, and my head tilts to the side as I check him out from head to toe. He may be wearing clothes, but I can still see the outline of his muscles. The cotton, dark gray sweater sticks to him, clinging to his biceps.
“Let’s go,” Beau says, pushing his dark hair back only for a small strand to tumble down.
“Is that a slit on your eyebrow?” Addie asks, appearing at my side.
“This?” Beau points to it and smirks. “Yeah, I did it on purpose.”
“Why?” Addie knits her brows.
“Because it’s hot? Duh.”
Hailey grabs my hand, pulling me toward the club and through the doors. The loud music blasts through me as people yell over each other in groups. The disco balls illuminate the dance floor with specks reflecting off each other.
We grab a booth that’s tucked into a corner, and a soft red light glows from the ceiling and onto the table. It’s moody and private.
“I’m going to the bar,” Ellie says. “Do you want anything?”
“Yeah, get me a zombie cocktail.” I put my jacket on the back of the chair across the booth.
Everyone stops and stares at me. August’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, James sounds out a low whistle, and even Hailey looks shocked with her eyes wide.
“What?”
“Do you know what’s in that?” Rowan asks.
I round the square table and sit in the booth, joining Addie, who’s attention is fixed on me. “I wouldn’t order it if I didn’t know what it was.”
“Are you trying to die tonight?” Beau asks.
“Oh, my god. Fine, I’ll get it myself.” Grabbing the edge of the table, I pull out from the booth and pass everyone to go to the bar.
The last time I had this cocktail was when I turned twenty-five. I’m sure I won’t wake up feeling great, but I’ve been busy and stressed with classes and Honey Cakes. I need something to take the edge off.
And that something is a drink made with three types of rum and citrus juice. It’ll be the one heavy drink I’ll have tonight, and then I’ll switch to something lighter, maybe even stick with water.
Pushing through the crowd of people hovering all over the bar, I reach the counter and grab the bartender’s attention within seconds. He shows off his million-dollar smile that I’m sure brings in the tips.
“What can I get ya?” He rests his hands on the edge of the bar.
I place my arms on the counter. “Zombie cocktail.”
The guy looks me up and down, probably trying to figure out how much I weigh, and nods once. “You got it.”
A guy standing next to me turns to face me, grinning from ear to ear. “What’s your name?”
I’m in no mood for this, but I’ll play along.
“Rebecca.”
“Nice to meet you, Rebecca. I’m Sean.”
Of course, his name is Sean. His pupils are dilated, almost covering his brown colored eyes.
He looks like the type of guy who peaked in high school as the football quarterback.
His brown hair is clipped short on the sides and full on the top.
Then I notice he’s wearing these ugly black loafers with a giant ‘LV’ in gold on top.
“Nice to meet you, Sean.”
“So, are you here with anyone?” His hand brushes against my arm.
I swear my body recoils, and I scoot down, almost pushing into the person next to me. “Uh, yeah, I’m here with a group of friends.”
“Maybe I can join you later for another drink.”
“Zombie cocktail,” the bartender says, placing it on a square napkin before going to the next customer.
“Shit,” Sean says. “Do you know how strong that is?”
When I take a sip to get a taste, my eyes squeeze shut, and my soul leaves my body for the night.
Good luck on this journey, it says to me.
“Yep, I do.”
“Excuse me, I need to get through here.” August pushes between us, and Sean gives him a what the fuck look.
“I was talking to her,” Sean yells over the music.
August looks forward at the glass bottles on the shelves, squinting through his glasses. “No, you weren’t.”
I take another small sip through my straw as my gaze bounces between the two of them.
“Okay, well, can you move somewhere else?” Sean asks.
August shakes his head, still looking ahead at the bar and not at Sean. “Nope.”
Sean attempts to go around August to stand next to me, but August doesn’t budge. He stands still like a statue, and it’s funny to watch this guy struggle to move August.
“What’s your deal, man?”
August moves his focus to Sean and says, “My deal is you’re talking to my girl.”
The liquor stops halfway through my straw while my eyes dart between the two of them. My eyebrows are fighting for their life when they shoot up my forehead, trying to touch the sky.
Sean looks at me skeptically, then back at August. “She didn’t say she’s here with someone.”
“I did say I’m here with a group of people. You didn’t ask if I’m here with a guy.”
“You’re with this guy?” Sean points to August.
I shrug and take another sip of my drink. “If he says so.”
I’m not sure what’s come over August, but this side of him is turning me on, and now I need to be careful. Don’t do me dirty, zombie drink.
Sean gives both of us one last look before he nods once. “Have a good night, Rebecca.”
August looks at me and mouths, Rebecca? Before looking back at Sean as he walks away. I snort.
“He asked my name, and I said it was Rebecca. No harm, no foul.”
He lets out a huff of a laugh and shakes his head. “Of course you did.”
“What can I get you, sir?” the bartender asks August.
“Old-fashioned, please.” August turns back to me, his arm leaning on the bar, and his gaze roaming my body.
I squint my eyes at him. “So, I’m your girl now?”
The corner of his lips turns downward. “Only to that guy. I was saving you.”
“Uh-huh, sure you were.”
The bartender sets August’s drink down and he reaches out for it, keeping his eyes on me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Why?” I move through the crowd and back to the booth. August follows closely behind me. I’m sure he’s giving the death stare to any man who looks at me.
“Considering you’re drinking five different types of rum in one glass, I’d say you’re going through it. You didn’t mention anything at dinner.”
“Excuse me,” I say to a group of guys who aren’t moving. They all stare at me, and some of them give me a slimy smile. “Please move.”
They part and let me through. I can feel their eyes on me. A hand presses at my lower back, but I know it’s August. I’d know the feel and imprint of his hand with my eyes closed.
“August,” Beau shouts from the booth, gesturing his head over toward the guys.
“Will you be okay the rest of the night?” he asks me, hand still pressed against me.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I flick my eyes up at him before he nods and walks away, his hand lingers on my back until I can’t feel it anymore, and I feel empty.
I'm four drinks deep and as happy as one can be while drunk.
I still know what's happening around me and don't feel dizzy, so I'm going to call that a win for tonight.
I've been on and off the dance floor, talking to random women in the bathroom, hyping each other up, and convincing the DJ to play whatever I asked for.
I've also noticed August glancing at me the entire night, and every time I caught him, I would stick out my tongue and wave him off.
Walking around the entire club, the neon lights shine, creating a glow on people in purples, reds, and white. My head tilts back, and I look up at the disco balls spinning, spinning, spinning, and I get lost in them. The twinkling lights cover the walls and dance floor.
"Riley.” August tugs me from the disco balls.
"What?" I whine.
"We're leaving.” He jerks his head toward the door. His eyes are heavy and tired, probably a combination of exhaustion and drinking.
I pull my arm out of his grasp and look back at the disco balls.
"Come on, everyone else already has their ride pulled up, and I don’t want to miss it," he says.
“No, I’m not ready to leave yet!”
“They’re waiting outside for us. We need to go.” August’s hand trails across my back and onto my waist, guiding me.
“I wanna look at the balls.” I tip my head to the ceiling and admire the sparkles.
“You can look at balls later, come on.”
"You suck," I shout, my head swiveling back and forth. "Wait, where's my jacket?"
"I have it." His voice is deep, commanding, and hot.
We get outside, the cold hitting me in the face.
"Shit," I mutter.
August pulls us against the wall. People come and go, talking and laughing. One guy trips over the sidewalk, and I smother a laugh.
"Great, they didn’t wait for us. Stay here," August says to me like I'm a dog. He pulls his phone out from his jeans pocket and types away.
I watch his fingers move. Can fingers look strong? Maybe strong is the wrong word. Masculine? I don't know. They're fucking fingers, and they look hot. I want to take one, put it in my mouth, and suck on it.
Wow, I’m incredibly drunk.
"The car will be here in three minutes," he says, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. He raises his thick eyebrows, waiting for my response.
“Kay.”