19. Chapter 19
Ames
Last time I was at this club, it was when Saint invited Aidan and I to the post-season party last year.
The place looks the same, with its dark cushioned benches and booths in the VIP section, tinted by the purple recessed lights hidden behind the furniture.
A few scattered armchairs are strategically placed to create different sitting areas, with side tables flanking them to hold drinks and food.
It's classy and luxurious and, the way the team is treated here, it's clear why they have made it their favorite place to gather.
Last year, I remember feeling like Aidan and I fit right in.
Him in his suit and me in a pretty dress, with these athletes and their people all dressed to the nines.
Tonight, I wear one of my favorite outfits, but my emotions don't play nice.
My soft gold satin blouse drapes low on my chest, and a matte black pencil mini skirt shows off my thick thighs, yet I don't feel as confident as I usually do.
"Everything okay?" Saint leans closer to me. "You look too serious for a night out."
He sits next to me, an arm around me on the back of the booth.
He wears tailored pants in a dark sage tone, and a shirt that calls for my hands.
It's a darker, less saturated color than his pants, but the texture is some sort of brushed velvet, and the neck looks more like a stylish version of a robe collar, than a shirt per se.
He looks delectable. Somewhere in my body, a decision has been made to increase my core temperature. It must be why I'm slowly heating up.
He's so damn fashionable. I've always known it. I noticed it last year, too, when Aidan and I came here. It hits differently tonight, somehow. No joke, my mouth is watering.
"Yeah, I'm okay." I gulp. "Just thinking of the last time I was here, and how things have changed."
"Why would you think about last year? Why do that to yourself?"
I laugh. Several of Saint's friends came to the club tonight.
Dom is to the side with a beautiful someone in his arms, while Bear and Pen sit on a side bench near us, enthralled with each other.
Next to Saint and I, Logan and Evie complete the group.
They all look amazing, making me glad I chose this outfit and didn't hold back.
Scattered through the VIP section, other friend groups sit around, twice as many people with faces I don't know, conversing and enjoying the evening. The music is loud up here, but not so loud the group we're in can't hear each other.
It doesn't stop Saint from leaning close and talking to my ear.
"You look beautiful," he says.
I turn to him and smile. "Thank you. We all do, right?"
"So I look good, too?" His grin is a devastating mix of sexy and cute. "Do you think that's why I won the social media likes bet yesterday?"
He's unapologetic about fishing for compliments, and I find it endearing. It makes me playful, but I don't directly engage. I lift my eyes to the ceiling and shake my head, like I can't believe I walked straight into that.
There's something vulnerable about admitting to him tonight how good he looks.
It's a slippery slope. Like I'll end up confessing he always looks incredible, and that I admire his fashion sense.
That it kidnaps my attention, and it makes me crave the touch of the textures of his clothes, and the softness of the skin underneath.
I don't manage to say anything at all.
"Fine," he says. "Don't tell me I look good. But will you dance with me? We should have fun."
That I can do.
We go down to the dance floor. The music is louder here. Deep, insistent bass resounds in my chest.
He grabs me by the waist and brings me close.
"This okay?" He asks close to my ear.
I nod, put my hands on his shoulders, and move to the beat of the music.
One, two songs, and my body has learned to follow Saint's guidance.
His lead is confident, telling me what to expect from him with subtle but clear pressure of his hands.
At times, the swaying of our bodies echo waves in the ocean, then flags billowing in the air.
Melodies entwine us together, until I don't know where he ends and I begin.
Through it all, we keep our steps small, maintaining our proximity.
Whenever his hands invite me to create any distance— just enough that he can lead me through a turn or half a spin— he brings me back and we end up plastered against each other.
Maybe that's why our legs interweave. We're dancing bachata to every song.
I'm in a trance. The heat of our movements release his pheromones into the air, and they put me under a spell.
One of my arms goes over his shoulder, my hand at his nape.
The other lands on his chest. The velvety fabric is soft under my fingertips, and his heartbeat follows the bass around us.
It echoes the drumming inside my chest. It's been years since I danced like this.
One of his hands splays on my back. The other is anchored to my hip. His chain rests on his clavicles and, in my heated mind, I realize I could close my mouth over his skin, and clamp the metal links between my teeth.
I think it means I'm going feral .
"Saint?"
It's not me who's calling his name. The only reason I know that is because the voice isn't laced with the yearning simmering in my veins. It startles me.
I don't realize I had been dancing with my eyes closed, lost in his arms, until I open them to find a stunning blonde inspecting us.
Saint keeps me close, but gazes at her. "Hello, Victoria. It's been a while."
A smirk curls her lips, and the gesture is somehow alluring on her perfect face. She studies me, from head to toe.
I swallow back the distaste in my mouth. A green little leprechaun dances in my stomach. It's an unfamiliar, unwelcome creature.
She smiles at me. "Can I cut in?"
Oh, no. She didn't.
The damn leprechaun turns into an imposing, angry green monster. Mutant muscles and torn clothes. The kind that could flip cars and take out an army on his own.
"Not tonight," Saint starts, but I've spoken at the same time.
"No." The syllable is sharp on my tongue.
"I'll give him back at some point," she insists, her eyes calculating on me. "I promise. We only get three dates or so before he moves on. Right, Saint?"
Victoria gives Saint a flirting smile. Saint purses his lips in a calculating gesture.
"I'm just wondering if I can get a second round," Victoria says.
The green monster goes into full rage. It roars inside. I want to pull Saint closer and claim him and, dammit, I have no rights to him. It takes five shots of tranquilizer to calm the monster down. From the bitterness on my tongue, the main ingredient is shame.
My chest caves in. Fuck. What a reminder that Saint and I are only friends. That I'm getting in the way of Saint's options.
I'm about to offer to go back to the VIP section when Saint pulls me closer.
"I'm delighted with the partner I have tonight, Victoria," he says. "Besides, you know I never do that. "
Victoria shrugs, taking the rejection in stride.
"Worth shooting my shot. Enjoy." She smiles and winks at me. "He's for sure fun. Just don't get attached. He's not built for anything real."
She kisses Saint on the cheek. It's an innocent move, from the looks of it, and Saint knows it. He doesn't react, except for a subtle flinch no one can see or feel but me. I'm the one he keeps close and tight in his arms.
I can't question the soft way his body jerks.
I'm too busy managing the jealous mutant inside of me, when it makes an attempt at waking up.
It's tempting. A kiss on the cheek is what I do with Saint, and no one else is allowed to use my move.
Rage feels better than the embarrassment of forgetting myself and the role I have in Saint's life.
I cling, but it escapes me. I'm the roommate that begged for shelter when her ex betrayed her.
I am not one of Saint's dates, no matter how powerful the spell of dancing with him was.
Victoria leaves. I gulp a few times. Bitterness still coats my mouth.
"I'm sorry about that." Saint releases me somewhat. "Is everything okay?"
No. Possessiveness like I didn't know drums deep in my bones.
I close my eyes for a beat. His hand rubs my back in long, soothing arches, and I take a deep breath.
The warmth of him against me is an easier, better feeling. I want to keep following the beat while he holds me close. I want to get lost in the fantasy of it again. Pretend that Saint and I danced like this back in college and one thing led to another, and we've been together since.
The thing is, it didn't happen like that.
He dated a hundred Victorias back then, and just as many in the years after.
We're adults looking for different things.
I may not know yet how to turn a long-term relationship to death-do-us-part, and I'm far from being ready to try again, but I know it starts with partners who want the same thing.
I just need to figure out a way to not lose myself in the process.
It's a sad realization. I won't get any of that with him. It doesn't serve me to hope Saint will one day change his mind and look at me that way. I know what my role is, what the right path is, and I need to remember that .
He watches me closely.
"I think I need a break," I say.
He nods. "Let's get a drink."
I don't react when he takes my hand and leads me toward the stairs leading up to the VIP section.
A club staff member is opening the velvet rope to let us up, when someone calls from behind us.
"Saint?"
We turn by instinct. It's a brunette this time, but she gazes at my… friend… with less cheek than Victoria and more longing. She looks familiar, somehow, but I can't place her.
"Rebecca?" Saint asks.
He steals a glance at me. I study her face again, hoping it will click. I've seen her before but I don't know…
"Hi—" Rebecca stares at our hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. It's only that I haven't seen you at the club in a while…"
It hits me all at once. She was leaving his place when I arrived. She was the last Bake and Bye victim.
This time, rather than jealousy, I feel a hint of heartbreak. For Rebecca, and for the brief moment I believed I could face a different ending.
He smiles at her. "I hope you're well."
Saint unobtrusively guides me up a few steps.
"I am, thanks." Her eyes follow us. "Have a lovely night."
She turns and walks into the crowd. Saint and I start our way up the stairs.
"I'm sorry." He gazes at me. "Again. It's not always like this, I promise."
"You didn't do anything but be polite." I suck on my bottom lip. "It's okay."
"Still. I'm sorry. I wish I could stop it. I don't mean to… but it's inevitable, really, since I come here so often and, well…"
He shakes his head and lets the sentence die, but I can hear what he meant anyway .
Since I've slept with so many people.
"I'm sorry, Ames."
I don't mind the fact per se, but how it reminds me yet again how different we are. One day, I'll try for my happily ever after again. Eventually, Saint will want to go back to dating. Probably as soon as I'm gone from the condo, and he can come back to the club and to his routines unencumbered.
We don't say much else until we're sitting in a booth with friends around, and we've ordered water and drinks.
"If you want to go back down and meet someone—" I start, but he shakes his head right away.
"Don't, Ames."
"If it's because of the logistics I can just… go somewhere else…"
Not that I have somewhere else. Maybe I can ask Evie to let me stay at her place, if she's staying with Logan…
"Ames. Don't you realize? If I wanted to, I could take a date to a hotel overnight."
"But you don't want to do that?"
All he does is get closer and shake his head. "I don't."
It means something. It challenges my thoughts— maybe. Maybe not, but I don't get to think it through, or let it stop the rollercoaster of emotions I'm on tonight.
"Sorry. Ames?" Evie taps my shoulder. "I don't think you've noticed who's staring at you."
"What?"
"Don't look, but over there. Near the railing, at the end of the balcony? Aidan is there."
"What?!" I harsh-whisper.
I can't help it. I glance at my ex, and he notices.
I turn to Saint. "Fuck. I think it's my turn to apologize to you."
"Don't you dare," Saint says. "This is his doing. Or did you invite him here? "
"Absolutely not, but I mentioned the club last night during the call. He knew where I would be. I never thought he would show up."
I steal another glance at him. He stands a few yards away, shamelessly studying us. Judging, I think. I'm not sure how to respond.
"What should I do?" I ask.
"Ignore him?"
"Probably." I bite my lip.
"He's watching us." Saint locks eyes with me. "Don't hate me for this."
He pulls me close. I forget about the questions I was asking, or his exes, or even about Aidan for a long second.
Next thing I know, I’m sitting on his lap.