Chapter 22
SAM
“Are you sure about this?” Charlie asked, the vivid neon lettering of the nightclub across the street flashing brightly enough that it lit up the dark night sky.
It had been quite a few years since Sam had last stepped foot inside of a club, the last time being back when they were in college.
As she stood there—with the chatter of the throng of people queued up in line out front, the booming bass of the loud music vibrating through to the pavement—she had to admit that she wasn’t so sure about this.
A pulse emanated from within that almost guaranteed a hangover to all who dared to enter.
All she had wanted was to go out and have some fun. Let loose a little so that they didn’t feel quite so stir-crazy sitting in Charlie’s apartment.
Standing there next to Charlie, she was starting to second guess herself.
“I think so. It should be fun. Right, babe?”
Charlie chuckled. “Absolutely—so long as no one pukes on me.”
She laughed, wanting to promise that she would do her best to steer clear of any green faces in the crowd to avoid such a fate, but she didn’t feel confident enough to say so.
A light breeze tousled his hair as he stood there next to her, unwavering as he waited for her to make her decision.
The black T-shirt and jeans he’d thrown on before they left made him look more like one of the bouncers stationed at the club’s entrance rather than someone trying to get inside, but she had to admit the simple combination worked for him.
The material of his shirt clung to his broad shoulders, flaring out at his waist and emphasizing the muscles of his back.
Given her limited choice in wardrobe from the break-in, and unfortunate timing for laundry day, she’d been left with two choices for tonight’s adventure.
Two dresses that hadn’t seen the light of day in a few years but managed to survive the break-in because they had been relegated to the far reaches of her closet.
The first dress had been swiftly dismissed due to its length alone, barely reaching past the curve of her ass thanks to her tall frame. At the time, she’d justified that she could turn it into a cute top with the right pair of pants, but that vision never came to be.
Left with no other option, she had turned to the second dress—a ruched bodycon dress that hugged her curves a little too well, its hem skimming just behind her knees.
A birthday gift from Angel one year that she’d never had the confidence to wear before now.
Its deep, jet-black color perfectly complemented both Charlie’s shirt and the only pair of heels she happened to own, so it worked out well.
She’d tried to ask Charlie what he thought of it, but he hadn’t looked at her long enough since they’d left for an answer.
“Let’s do this!” she said finally. “Worst case scenario is that we go in for a bit, get a drink or two, dance for a while, realize we’re not cut out for this kind of scene anymore, and head back to your place.”
“Sounds like a plan to me, babe—on one condition, though,” Charlie said as he extended a hand toward her, flexing it. “You are required to hold my hand tonight unless otherwise stated.”
Despite herself, she giggled. “Charlie, I’m not five. I think I can manage.”
Charlie shook his head. “Nope, you can see how packed it is in there, and I’d rather not lose you in the crowd if I can help it. It’s nonnegotiable.”
“Charlie—”
“Just hold my hand, dammit,” he demanded, flexing his hand more dramatically in her direction. She laughed once more, but she obliged, intertwining her fingers with his. It was more comforting than she thought, the warmth of his hand radiating up to her chest.
Charlie stuck to her like glue as they made their way inside, through the crowd, and over to the bar—his grip never leaving hers.
Even when they finally had drinks in hand, and the two retreated to a more secluded corner of the club, his hand remained in hers. They stood off to the side, leisurely sipping their drinks while watching the lively crowd.
Sam had no intention of getting drunk, but she gratefully welcomed the first few sips of her mojito, the alcohol’s mildly soothing effect easing the spike of nerves that had threatened to rise at the pressing crowd of people.
Everyone was packed in like sardines around the dance floor, so the sequestered corner they found themselves in was a welcome respite.
She hadn’t expected to feel uneasy in the crowd.
Her fingers tightened on the glass before taking a large gulp. She’d hoped that a night around other people would help ease that tension coiled inside of her—but it was currently having the opposite effect. As if she were searching, looking for him.
She shook her head and took another healthy swig. No, she didn’t want to think about that tonight. Tonight was for fun. No thinking about Paul; no thinking about book stuff even.
“You think this is the UNC crowd tonight?” she shouted, trying to be heard over the music.
“I’m amazed you can think with the music this loud,” he shouted back, flashing that cocky smile of his. “I feel like it’s jackhammering right into my head.”
Sam laughed. “Are we just getting old?”
Charlie placed a hand on his chest “Excuse me. I’m thirty, flirty, and thriving. You want another drink?”
She nodded, pointing at the almost empty glass in her hand. “Another one of these, please?”
“You got it,” he said as he took the glass from her. “Stay here. It’ll be quicker if I run and grab them. I’ll be right back.”
Charlie’s towering frame effortlessly parted the crowd as he navigated his way to the bar. Standing head and shoulders above most of the others around him, it was like watching a beacon parting the sea. The image of it made her laugh.
She turned to look back out at the crowd, hating how her lips still tingled from the way he’d kissed her at the apartment. It was sweet, a delicate whisper of the kiss they’d had in the hallway. And it was exactly what she’d needed.
She’d pushed for it, she knew. She’d been about as subtle as a freight train at the time, but she’d needed to remember that feeling. Of his lips on hers. Of the sensation that sparked to life between them whenever they kissed. Anything and everything to not think about the situation with Paul.
But it had backfired in an entirely different way.
She didn’t want this to end, this arrangement of theirs. The problem was that she was enjoying it a little too much. Her book was halfway done, and she knew that her time with this would be dwindling to a close when it was finished.
She wasn’t ready to let go of this, but she knew she would have to.
She could always ask him. See whether his feelings toward her had changed throughout their time together, but she decided against it for one very big reason.
Two decades of friendship. That was what she’d be putting on the line if his feelings hadn’t changed.
If he was just that good at making her believe that it was real, and she told him how she felt, she ran the very real risk of ruining everything between them.
She could lose him, and she couldn’t bear the thought.
This had been a terrible idea for her heart.
A sudden jolt from her right sent her lurching forward, barely managing to steady herself with the nearby high-top table.
A man stood beside her, reaching toward her as if to help stabilize her.
He hovered there as she regained her foot, his hazel eyes glazed over yet fixated on her, a telltale drunken grin adorning his face as he leaned closer to her ear.
“Sorry,” he shouted, a notable slur to his words. “I hope I didn’t spill your drink?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine! No drink right now, so nothing to spill.”
She smoothed her dress out, which had ridden up slightly by her sudden movement, and she sensed his hands still lingering near her hips.
The guy’s grin widened. “Would you like one? I’d be more than happy to buy you one.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “No, thank you.”
The man eyed her up and down, licking his lips like he’d found his next course. “You’re pretty cute. Are you here alone?”
“No, I—” she started, pausing when he took a step closer.
“Come on, let me buy you a drink,” he pleaded, edging his body into her personal space with each word.
The overpowering scent of tequila wafted from his breath as he attempted to inch closer, but she extended her hand to halt his advance. “No, thank you, I’m here with—”
“Just one?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m good, really…”
The guy grabbed her wrist and turned without another word, as if his mind was already made up.
He started making his way through the crowd to the bar, tugging her along behind him.
Sam was taken aback by the suddenness of his actions, but in the loud and crowded nightclub, she doubted he could hear her protests.
She searched for Charlie amidst the sea of faces to see if he had returned, but he was nowhere to be seen in the chaos. She focused, instead, on not falling on her ass in the heels she had on.
The guy dragging her suddenly stopped, catching her off guard and causing her to collide into his back. She turned, expecting to find that they’d gotten to the bar, but instead, she saw that he had collided with someone else.
A familiar face obstructed their path, and Sam released a relieved breath.
Balancing two drinks in his hands, Charlie peered down at the guy wedged between them. The surprise in his eyes was quickly replaced by a heat that threatened to set anyone too close aflame.
Sam simply waved at him, unsure of what else to do.
“I suggest letting go of my girl right about now.” His voice came out gruffly, a low rumble in his chest that made him sound as dangerous as his eyes implied.
My girl.
Sam felt the rush of relief as she was promptly released, the guy in front of her holding his hands up defensively. “My bad, dude.”