Chapter 16 Aurora #2
“One drink. It’s just one.”
“A’right, just one, then.” The bartender’s voice is playful as I meet his eyes, his lips curled into a conspiratorial grin. “But if ya fancy another, I won’t stop ya.”
He winks, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me.
“Careful flashin’ that smile. I might forget how to pour.”
I laugh again. He’s cute. Long blond hair and a clean-shaven, sharp jaw. I bet customers swoon over him every night. Too bad it won’t work on me.
“Are your drinks as strong as your flirt game?”
“Stronger.” He smirks and leans closer, resting his arms on the bar top. “What’s your poison?”
I hesitate. I don’t even know what to order. I don’t think I’ve ever ordered a drink at a bar before. What do people drink at nightclubs? I say the first beverage that comes to mind.
“A martini? Please.”
“Gin or vodka?”
“...Gin?”
“You like it dirty?”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
The bartender laughs, then leans even closer. “Ya ever had a martini?”
I blink again, feeling my face flame red, then shake my head no. “I don’t drink much, honestly.”
“Ah. Just one, then.” He nods knowingly, his face softening. “D’you trust me, love?”
“No. I just met you.”
He barks out another laugh. “Fair enough. No worries, though. I’ll fix ya right up.”
I watch as he grabs a tall silver tumbler and gets to work fixin’ me right up.
He mushes up a lime wedge and some other sort of orange fruit, adds a clear syrup, vodka, and some orange liqueur to the tumbler, then puts another silver tumbler on top of that one and shakes it up.
He slides a cocktail glass in front of me, plunks in some ice, and pours his tumbler mixture over it. It’s yellow and smells sweet.
“Passion Fruit Caipiroska for the lady.” He pops a lime wheel onto the side of the glass, then gives me a wink. “G’head. Try it.”
I pick up the cool glass and bring it to my lips, and my eyes flutter shut the moment the sweet cocktail hits my tongue.
“See? I mix as good as I flirt, yeah?”
I smile and nod. “Better.”
I take a deep breath and give him my credit card, eyes trained on it the entire time he runs my payment. One drink. Just one. Twenty bucks, tops. That’s it. It’s just one—
“Did you just pay for that?”
I turn and find Sav beside me. “Uh...yes?”
The bartender slaps my card down in front of me, and Sav turns to him.
“Hey, anything else she orders can go on my tab. Stephanie Lynn.”
He blinks at her, his mouth popping open a bit. “Are you...You’re not...”
“I’m not. I get that all the time, though.” Sav smiles and bats her eyelashes. “People always tell me I should do one of those DNA tests or something. Maybe we could be sisters. Could you imagine? I’d be able to buy a Corvette.”
He scans her face, blinking rapidly. “You sure?”
Sav laughs that iconic, world-famous laugh, and the bartender’s eyes widen. She’s got to be doing it on purpose. She’s won an Oscar, so surely, she’s capable of acting less Sav Loveless. I bite my cheek to tame my smile, but my lips twitch with the need to laugh with her.
“I think I know who I am, champ.” She winks, then knocks on the bar in front of him with her knuckles. “Stephanie Lynn from now on.”
She saunters away, and I lose the battle with my smile as the bartender’s face grows more confused.
“Did you short-circuit?” I ask, and he flicks his eyes to me.
“You’re on her tab?”
I shrug. “Guess so.”
“Doesn’t she look just like that rock star? Sav Loveless? The Hometown Heartless.”
He turns back to Sav and tilts his head to the side. I take another sip from my drink. She looks just like herself. It’s a terrible disguise. Even in a wig and colored contacts, she stands out, but I shake my head anyway.
“I don’t see it.”
I spot Callie and Claire in the back, so after a goodbye nod to the bartender, I weave through bodies to stand next to them. They’re both holding glasses, one of something clear and one of something dark brown.
“Whatchya got?” Claire asks, nodding to my cocktail.
“Oh. Um...passion fruit something or other? I don’t know. The bartender made it.” I take a sip and smile. “It’s good. Fruity. What do you have?”
Callie holds up her glass. “Vodka soda. Not as fun as yours.”
“Mine’s just a cola,” Claire adds, and I raise my brows. She laughs. “No, I am not pregnant.”
I wince. “Sorry for earlier. I’m so embarrassed. I never should have gone off like that on you guys. I can only imagine how awkward it was for you.”
I put my palm on my cheek in an attempt to chase away the heat. The fact that Callie doesn’t ask what the hell I’m talking about tells me she’s already been filled in on my unhinged interrogation.
Claire gives me a genuine smile. “No worries. It’s already forgotten.”
I doubt it—I will certainly never forget it—but she’s sweet for saying that. I nod and take another sip of my cocktail, then the air vibrates around me. A breath later, Mabel and Sav step into our group. My eyes are drawn upward, connecting with shimmering amber magnets, and Mabel smirks.
“You coming?”
I don’t know where she’s going, but I nod anyway. “Yes.”
She takes my hand and leads me down the stairs onto the lower-level dance floor.
Callie might follow. Claire and Sav might stay in the VIP section.
I can’t be sure because my entire focus has zeroed in on Mabel’s hand in mine.
I don’t look away from the contact until we’re in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by strangers, and she turns to face me.
Her plump pink lips are curled up at the side with a little half smile that makes my stomach flip. Then, without a word, she closes her eyes and starts to dance. For a moment, all I can do is watch. I stand there like a dazed fool, and I watch as she moves to the music.
The lights from the DJ booth shimmer off the sequins on her bralette, refracting glittering starbursts over the bare skin of her collarbones and shoulders.
When she raises her arms above her head, her colorful tattoos serve as the most captivating frame.
Her smile widens slowly, almost dreamily, and it’s like I can see the tension evaporating from her body.
Her heartache being soothed by the music and the movement.
She’s pure joy. She’s bliss. She’s freedom.
She’s everything.
Mabel Rossi is beautiful and fun and alluring and everything, and it hits me like a tidal wave. I sway on my feet from the force. I try to tell myself it’s the music, the atmosphere, the alcohol, but it’s not. It’s her. It’s all her.
The realization makes my mouth suddenly uncomfortably dry.
I force a swallow and finish my cocktail just as Mabel’s eyes open.
Those amber gemstones hold me hostage, sucking my breath from my chest. When she catches me staring, her lashes flutter, and she darts her gaze away and back.
I should smile or apologize. I should look away.
I should do something, anything, but I can’t. I just watch.
The music changes, something sexy and slow, and then her smirk returns, softer this time.
Tentative. Shy. My stomach clenches and aches.
Something stirs low inside me, and I suck my lower lip between my teeth.
She steps toward me, and my breath comes more rapidly.
Every inhale makes my chest tight, pressing my breasts uncomfortably against the bodice of my dress.
She takes the empty cocktail glass from my grip and hands it to someone beside her.
A security guard. I hadn’t even noticed him.
I open my mouth to say thank you, but she moves her hand to my waist, and all words die on my tongue.
She leans in, putting her mouth to my ear, and I’m entrenched in gardenia and pear. Something sweeter. Brown sugar, maybe? I want to fill my lungs with the scent of her. My head tilts on its own, my nose brushing her hair, her skin, and I inhale.
“Dance, Roar.”
Her voice tickles the shell of my ear, and my exhale trembles when she squeezes my waist. Gently, she urges me to move with her, so I do. She’s a snake charmer, and my body mimics hers on impulse. On instinct, despite having never danced like this before. Not with someone like her.
Mabel leans back and locks her gaze with mine, but something has changed in her eyes.
There’s an intensity, a heat, that I don’t recognize.
I don’t understand it, but I crave it. She smirks, then brings her lips back to my ear, this time erasing more of the distance between us.
I can feel her body heat kissing my skin.
“There we go,” she purrs. “Just like that. Just move with me. Let go.”
Chill bumps coat my skin as her breath skates over my neck.
I close my eyes and let my fingers trail down her arm.
Energy dances over me from the contact, shooting up to my shoulders, then down my spine.
My hand splays on her rib cage, my thumb and forefinger resting on the rough sequined fabric of her top while the rest press into her warm exposed torso, and it’s all I can do not to pull her closer.
It’s all I can do to remember to breathe, let alone dance. Let alone stay upright.
The bass from the music pulsates up through my ballet flats.
The DJ’s lights paint the backs of my eyelids in vibrant colors.
One drink, just one, but I feel like I’m floating.
Drunk on this moment. On the scent of her.
On the closeness. A buzzing hum of more, more, more thrums in my veins, and a need for something I don’t understand drives my every decision.
Slowly, I lean forward and press my forehead against hers.
I almost whimper when her hand wraps around the back of my neck, holding me to her.
In my head, I picture her lips. I lick my own, threading my arms around her waist. She’s soft and warm and smooth.
I want to run my hands over her. I want her hands on me. I want, I don’t even know. Everything.
I want everything.
Then the music changes, and she releases me.
Cool air hits my chest, and my eyes fly open so fast that I flinch. Mabel’s laughter mingles with the song, and I blink several times to bring the scene before me into focus.
She’s still here. She’s still dancing with one hand on my waist. She’s still just inches away.
But now, her other hand is wrapped around someone else’s neck.
Someone who is pressed up behind her with his large hand spread wide across the bare skin of her abdomen.
I stare at that hand, at the way he flexes his long, thick fingers into her skin.
The way the tips slip just slightly into the band of her skirt.
If she’s wearing underwear, I bet he can feel them. If she’s not wearing underwear...
I force my attention to the ground, landing right on their feet. Mabel’s stilettos look so small bracketed by this stranger’s giant shoes. It’s a strange, unexpected punch to the stomach.
I take a step back, out of Mabel’s reach, and her eyes meet mine when her hand falls away from me. Her smile falters, but before she can ask, I hook my thumb toward the bar.
“Gonna get another drink,” I shout over the music. “You want anything?”
She shakes her head, concern lingering behind her smile. “I’m good.”
I nod and turn away without saying anything else.
At the bar, the guy asks for my ID. I try to remember the name of the cocktail the bartender upstairs made for me, but when I can’t, I order a vodka soda and tell him to put it on Stephanie Lynn’s tab.
I take one sip and regret the drink, but I squeeze the lime garnish into the glass and pretend that I like it.
Then, because I can still see Mabel dancing with that giant man twice her size, I weave my way through the bodies and head back upstairs.
“How was it?” Claire grins at me from her place at a tall pub table with Sav.
“How was what?”
“Your first clubbing experience. You weren’t down there very long.”
I flare my eyes. She must have heard me tell Callie I’d never been out dancing. That or Callie told her. It doesn’t matter. I take a drink and shrug.
“It was fine. Sweaty. I don’t think I missed out on much in college.”
Sav laughs. “I’m not much of a fan, but Callie and Mabel will shut the place down if we let them.”
“Those two love to dance,” Claire adds.
I force a small laugh and let my eyes trail back toward the dance floor. Back to Mabel.
“I can see that.”
I wasn’t kidding when I said I could pick her out of any crowd. Even now, in the dim light of this club, with a hundred people dancing on the floor below me, I find her easily. I wish I hadn’t.
She’s still dancing with that guy. And while Callie is there, too, dancing and laughing alongside them, I can’t stop looking at the guy. At every place his body touches Mabel’s. His hands are all over her. His attention is only for her. She’s eating it up.
It doesn’t make sense. Not the way my stomach roils or my chest burns. Not the way she smiles up at him like he’s special. Not the way I’d felt just moments earlier when her hands were on me. When her body was against mine...
None of it makes sense, but even though it hurts, even though I shouldn’t care, I can’t keep my eyes from darting back to them at every opportunity.
I keep up the conversation with Sav and Claire.
I laugh and smile when appropriate. I even order two more cocktails and finish them without wincing.
And whenever possible, I sneak glances at Mabel and tell myself that I don’t care.
I don’t care that she’s dancing with this Australian cover model. I don’t care that his hands have grazed and groped every inch of her skin he can reach. That his body has nearly folded itself over hers. That she’s very obviously enjoying every second of it.
She told me this was what she wanted, right?
Someone to feed her ego? Well, judging from her smile and her own roaming hands, she’s definitely gotten that.
He’s fed her ego, all right. I bet he’ll feed her something else tonight, too.
In the suite that we share. In the bed right beside mine.
It will sound like sex and smell like sex and—
I grit my teeth. I finish off my cocktail.
I do not care.
Because I have no feelings whatsoever for Mabel Rossi.
I repeat this over and over in my head. A mantra. A spell. I almost believe it. But then he kisses her, and I see red.