Chapter 11
Eleven
Blue Fusion.
The night might’ve started in a country-club, but it’s ending in a nightclub. True to its name, blue light bounces off sequins and sweat, igniting every step and sway as the music drives us forward.
Aspen matches my tempo, throwing her head back on a gleeful laugh. “You were right. This is fun.”
I grin. Of course I was right. Graduating from a boardwalk bar to a Main Street nightclub was always going to be a good idea. Swapping out sugary Mai Tai’s for icy vodka shots even better.
It took a little convincing but here we are. We including Reese and Dylan. They’re around somewhere. Last I saw, the former was working his silver-tongue on a long-legged redhead, while the latter spoke familiarly with a group of guys.
I oscillate closer to Aspen.
“There’s a guy behind that’s had his sights set on you for a while.” The strobe cuts through the dark, and in one of those fast flickers, I catch him—Cute with a capital C. “You should dance with him.”
She hides a smile between her teeth. “No. My legs are about to give out.” But her eyes betray her, bouncing back in search of said guy. Across the haze, he straightens.
“Go on…” I encourage.
She takes a step back, but it’s not with him on her mind. “I need a drink. Water. I’m parched. Meet you back at the bar?”
“Be right behind you.”
But it’s a lie.
One track melts into the next, and still I stay adrift on shifting light, suspended in the throb.
I’m weightless, with bass pounding through my chest like a second heartbeat.
Bodies press and pivot around me, strangers blind to me entirely.
They don’t pause to ask if I’m okay. They don’t disguise demands in soft words, then let disapproval drip when I say no.
Therapy won’t be on the cards. Ever.
I don’t need help. I’ve found my coping mechanism and it’s this.
Nights that blur, drinks that burn, volume that drowns out thought.
So what if it’s unhealthy? I’m here and I’m fine.
Standing tall on my own two legs and forcing my head high.
The part of me that wants to crumble, sob, curl into a ball, it whispers.
And the music drowns it all out.
Soon the bass drops, tempered by sultry rhythms. It takes me in, my hips rolling to its pace.
My hands rise without thinking, nearly brushing my bun before I redirect them, stretching skyward, then drifting down my body like a secret touch.
Lights flash red then violet behind closed eyes, and lip-synced lyrics roll off my tongue. Someone’s watching me. Not the first time tonight, not by a long shot, but this one sticks, lacking the usual leer.
I don’t seek it out. That’s not what I’m here for.
But they don’t let up. Not for a single second.
They track every move, locking in time with the beat, pulling me higher, deeper.
I never knew being watched could have such an intoxicating allure to it.
Maybe it’s the unknown of it all. Or maybe, it’s how each sweep of their eyes hits like a drag of the finest Grey Goose—silken, precise, with just enough burn to leave me craving another hit.
For a moment, I think I could stay here and float in this feeling forever.
But the song’s winding down, and I’m oddly breathless, needing something to abate my parched throat.
I don’t let my eyes wander as I thread toward the bar; most things are better in my imagination. Aspen’s easy to find. Not just because her dragonfly clips snare every light in the club, but because Reese is impossible to miss right there beside her.
“Had your fill of dancing?” he teases.
“Not even close.” It rasps out, and it’s only when Aspen’s gaze dips to my neck that I clue in to my racing pulse. God. I feel kind of… alive. Guess I didn’t need the blow, after all.
“You’re insane.” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t keep up with you even if I tried.”
“Fuck it, it’s summer, right?” I flick a hand at the glass of water sweating on the counter. “Mind if I?”
“Go for it.”
I down it in a few gulps, the cool rush a stark contrast to the thrum under my skin. Reese catches the bartender’s attention. “One water, a whiskey sour like before, and for you…”
Ten minutes ago, I would’ve asked for another round, no hesitation. But I don’t need it anymore. The buzz is already perfect, alive in my veins.
“A Shirley Temple, please.”
The bartender slides our drinks over. The ink on Reese’s forearm moves as he sets the whiskey spinning.
“Good thing we’re off the schedule tomorrow,” he says. “Supposed to keep it clean this summer. Coach is big on ‘no distractions.’”
“You can indulge once in a while, right? Seriously, you guys are like machines. All you do is train, train, train.”
It’s part of why I’m lucky to get so much time with Aspen. If the guys aren’t buried in practice, they’re logging miles in the ocean. At least Reese and Dylan join us here and there, but Carson… it’s like downtime is a foreign concept to him.
Or maybe, my guilt offers, it’s not the concept. It’s me.
Reese’s shrug drags me back before I tumble too far down that thought.
“We’ll never be this age again. Gotta make the most of our prime.” His eyes flick upward, and a whistle follows. “Is this drink laced, or am I actually seeing Carson fucking Eli in a club?”
“The latter. He showed up a while ago.”
Sure enough, Carson sits in an elevated booth off the dance floor, Dylan posted at his side. Shadows cling thick, but even in the dim I catch the plain tee that hints he’s had a wardrobe change.
“He wasn’t going to come, but I guess he changed his mind when I told him we were all here.”
Reese’s mouth quirks, wry amusement curling the edges. “He did, huh?” He looks between the two of us but it’s me he lands on. “Let’s head over.”
Aspen rises, but I stay where I am. Partly because Carson and I didn’t exactly part on good terms. Mostly because I figure… maybe he needs a night to be with just them. No extras tagging along.
There’s something else, too. The dance floor shimmering behind like a calling.
“You two go ahead.” I lift my glass. “I’m finishing this, then heading straight back out.”
“I can wait with you?” Aspen offers, brushing my forearm.
“No, no,” I wave her off. “I’ll be fine.”
The drink goes down smooth, and true to my word, I’m back under the strobe in record time.
Anticipation curls low in my stomach. I wait for those eyes to set me alight again as I melt back into the rhythm, body swaying, shoulders loosening, mind blissfully empty.
Only… the spark never comes.
What does is the press of someone at my back.
“You’re so beautiful.”
The compliment carries, forcing my neck to twist. Blue eyes, far too close, gleam with liquid interest. I part my lips to shut it down, but he’s already speaking. “I was watching you dance earlier. You left before I could approach.”
My mouth clamps shut. Was it him?
The maybe melts my edges just enough, and he takes my hesitation as a green light, closing in as if it’s already been decided.
If his gaze ignited like that, what will his touch feel like in motion?
Nothing, I quickly realise. Worse than nothing, even.
He’s erratic, insistent, hovering instead of moving in sync, and it’s only when his wandering hands find purchase on my hips that a fiery gaze finds me.
This time I do seek it out, in shadowy corners, to the heart of the dance floor, only to come up short.
Only to clue in, delayed, that my dance partner’s hands are inching higher, higher…
I spin, untangling from his grasp.
“Aw, cmon.”
“Sorry. That’s not… I don’t want that.” I could’ve said I thought he was someone else, maybe that would’ve warranted the contortion of anger.
“You were backing into it. Being a fucking tease.”
I wasn’t backing into anything. He’d been the one trying to glue himself to me.
“Agree to disagree?” I’m already moving before whatever insult he’s loading can hit.
Still, I don’t miss the unsavoury name calling at my back.
By the time I reach the hallway leading to the bathroom, it feels like another world. A pocket of stillness carved from the chaos. The music is just a muffled throb through the walls, and I lean against one as I wait for the red in use indicator to switch green.
A mindless hum slips out as the earlier exhaustion sinks its teeth in again, my eyes fluttering closed. I can’t deny it. I want sleep. Just one real night of it, without tossing and turning, sleeping after the sunrise or waking up hours before it’s even close.
The pitter-patter of footsteps soon alerts me to another presence. I stay as I am, even as the sound draws closer. It’s only when someone’s warmth orbits mine that I look.
Up.
Up.
Up.
“Hey.”
The greeting lands like a pebble dropped into still water. I blink. “Hi.”
Grey eyes hold my brown steady, giving nothing away. Only the faint gleam of the chain at his collar breaks the shadow.
“You here for the restroom?”
It’s a poor attempt at small talk, I know, but what else do I have to say to him?
He shakes his head.
No?
“Are you… did you follow me?”
I’m two for two with dumb questions. He probably hasn’t looked at me once all night. No way am I on his radar enough for him to follow me.
Except, it seems I am.
“It was either me or the—” his mouth tightens at one corner, “guy you were dancing with.”
I school my face, trying not to show my surprise. “I could’ve handled him.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he snaps back, scowling. For once, I don’t think it’s wholly aimed at me.
I face forward again, where that red is still a prominent contrast under the lights.
My voice is faint, a question disguised as a statement. “You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” Oh? I roll my neck, peering up at him. His heavy-lidded gaze latches onto mine, his voice so deceptively soft, “I don’t even think about you, Brielle.”
Oh. The alcohol in my system mutes a sting I refuse to ponder over.
“Touché, Carson.” Touché.
Silence thrums between us.
“You having a good time?” I ask eventually. It doesn’t seem like it; he appears as he almost always does, the carriage of his shoulders tense like the world’s pressing down on them.
His blank stare is answer enough.
I sigh. “Do you ever let loose?”
“You asking that ‘cause I don’t drink?”
The way he says it so hard and fast…
“You think I look down on you for that?” God, he really does think the worst of me.
“I couldn’t care less what you do or don’t, Carson.
Whatever makes you happy. I only asked because, in the time of knowing you, I’ve never seen you relax.
When was the last time you just hit pause and… I don’t know, breathed?”
Something hollow and familiar flickers across his face. He turns his head before I can study it.
“What do you suggest?” Gruff. Clipped. “Dancing with handsy strangers? You think that’ll do the trick?”
“Maybe. Not the handsy part, but the dancing, maybe. It’s thrilling. With the music thumping beneath your feet, your body taking over, eyes on you…” I trail off, recalling the intensity of it all. “I’d tell you to try it out, dance with someone even, but…”
“But?” Carson prompts, his eyes returning and prickling.
“You wouldn’t.” I doubt he’d take advice from a reckless nobody like me. And— “And I doubt your girlfriend would want you dancing with other girls.”
The space above his right cheekbone twitches. “There is no girlfriend.”
Oh. So I’d read it wrong. I was certain they were a thing. Not just because she was gorgeous, even more so on his arm, but because it explained his icy disdain so perfectly. What boyfriend wouldn’t bristle if he thought some girl was making a move on him?
“Does she know that? I’m not trying to be rude, but guys tend to suck at communi—”
“She’s no one,” he interrupts, swift enough that there’s no room for objection.
O-kay.
I guess that means he’s single. Kind of surprising, honestly. He ticks plenty of boxes. Tall, sharp-eyed, mysterious in a way that’s practically engineered to get attention. And yet, not surprising at all.
He’s all work, no play, and I don’t know how he is with other women, but around me, a scowl is a permanent fixture.
I never let that stop me from smiling at him.
“Then go, dance. What’s the harm in trying?”
“You offering?”
It comes so low, so out of left-field I blink. Did I hear him right?
The hush around us snaps when laughter spills from the bathroom in a wave of perfume and heels. It tapers off when they spot the man at my side, and it’s only when his penetrating eyes never leave mine that I realise I did hear correctly.
But surely he’s messing with me.
My lips twitch higher, and I push off the wall as the girls leave. Didn’t know he had a sense of humor hidden under all that brooding.
“Thanks for keeping me company.”
I only get a couple steps in.
“Why are you drinking?”
I don’t falter, even though I’m pretty sure he’s trying to give me whiplash.
“Because I want to.”
My hand finds the door. The restroom’s right there.
“Why were you at the bar?”
This time, I do pause. He hasn’t moved an inch, but somehow his shadow stretches to touch me, like distance doesn’t apply when it comes to him. I don’t think he’s asking about Sand Bar on the boardwalk, or the bar here. And the look in his eyes...
My chest tightens.
“What does it matter?” I swallow. Let the next step carry me over the threshold. “You don’t think about me, right?”