Chapter 25
Andi
My head is delightfully buzzy.
I can’t tell whether it’s because I’m drunk on the delicious scents of these even more delicious-looking men I’m surrounded by or the two shots I took back in my apartment.
Probably a combination of both.
I take a deep breath at the top of the stairs, closing my eyes and letting the dance floor lights, shifting from reds to blues and purples, shine past my eyelids.
God, did I need this.
I didn’t want to think anymore.
Too much thinking. Not just for the day. Maybe for my entire life.
I feel like the carefully constructed worldview my mom has spent my entire life hammering into my head is falling apart at the seams. And I don’t know what to do in the wake of it. There’s only so much distinguishing between my mom’s voice and my voice I can do.
Especially when I’m sick and tired of my own voice in my head right now.
The VIP section of the club is on the balcony above the main floor. It’s far more secluded and far less crowded than the main floor. It has its own bar along the back wall, and there are individual booths with wide, round cushioned seating areas that border the dance floor.
Elijah stands, his arms crossed over his chest in front of one, waiting for us.
He looks like our bodyguard, with his all-black outfit and slicked-back hair.
A really fucking hot bodyguard.
An unfairly hot bodyguard. Especially with those tattoos peeking out on his chest past the couple of buttons he’s left undone.
Ugh, why does he look hot even when he’s scowling?
“Watch out, you keep looking like that and people will think you’re actually having fun,” I huff, sliding into the booth and clicking my manicured fingernails against the cocktail table.
All I get is a roll of his eyes.
The bottle girl assigned to our booth appears right as Leo and Beck slide in on either side of me.
“Hi there, everyone! My name is Brielle, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” she says. Her gaze lands on me, and her smile grows even wider. “Oh Andi! It’s good to see you!”
I muster a smile in return. She shouldn’t have to feel how frustrated I am after that stupid exchange with Elijah in the stairwell. If you do the audio equivalent of squinting, it almost seemed like he cared about me. He just had a... weird ass way of going about it.
Everything he does seems to get under my skin in one way or another.
It seems the feeling is mutual.
“Good to see you too, Brielle,” I say.
“Different crowd than usual, I see?” she says, eyeing the men I’m with.
“Yup,” I nod, my hands stilling on the cocktail table as I remember the copious amounts of nights I’ve spent here. In booths like these, just at cheaper tables on the main level while Ezra consumed ridiculous amounts of substances of varying levels of legality.
I lean my head onto Beck’s shoulder.
“With better company.” I realize the moment I say it that I wholeheartedly believe my words. Beck, Leo, hell, even Eli are all better company than I’m used to.
“Good for you, girl,” Brielle says. “What can I get for you guys tonight?”
“We’ll take half a dozen shots of tequila.” I glance at the guys, who all look at me with raised brows. “Anyone want anything else?”
“I think we’re good with the six shots,” Leo chuckles.
“We’re good for now, then, thanks Brielle.” I nod.
“I’ll be right out with those!”
“Six shots?” Elijah huffs. I’m sure if his arms weren’t already crossed over his chest, he’d go right ahead and cross them.
“Uh huh, keep up.”
Brielle appears a moment later with a whole tray of shots, a neat bowl of limes, and a fancy-looking metallic salt shaker.
“Here you go! Let me know if you guys need anything else.”
“Thanks,” I say, leaning over eagerly.
I’m still thinking too much.
Especially after Elijah’s comments about my mother in the stairwell.
I need to stop thinking.
Leo and Beck each grab a shot glass for themselves. I raise an expectant brow at Elijah, waiting for him to take a glass for himself, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his stupidly big arms and his stupidly handsome scowl.
“I’m fine,” he grunts. “I’m the one in charge of you all tonight.”
“I knew you were going to be a party pooper,” I huff, rolling my eyes and picking up two. “Four for me, then.”
Before anyone has a chance to stop me, I toss the two shots back, double-fisting them.
I make a face, shaking my head to get rid of the burn.
I may be experienced enough drinking these to not need a chaser most nights, but I’m also not drunk enough for it to go down like water. Yet.
I intend on getting there.
Healthy?
Definitely not.
But I’m sure Nancy has said something about healing not being linear, and I don’t want to be linear right now.
I reach for the remaining two shots.
“Whoa there,” Eli growls, taking both of them out from under me.
Hmmm, maybe I am drunk, because that seemed far too easy for him to do.
Actually, he’d probably be able to snatch those away from sober-me too.
I pout, narrowing my eyes on him.
Him and his stupid handsome face and stupid alpha reaction times.
“That’s enough for you,” he grunts.
“You gonna waste those, Mr. Party-Pooper?”
“How mature,” he sneers.
The intensity of his glare doesn’t lessen one bit as he throws back both shots.
The intensity of my glare only increases when he has absolutely no reaction to them.
Does he have to one-up me at everything?
“Maybe I shouldn’t drink,” Leo chuckles. “We’ll need someone to drive us back—”
The moment his drink hits the table, I swipe it away and shoot it down.
My jaw clenches as I fight back my internal reaction, but this third shot goes down a whole lot easier than the first two.
Perfect.
Just what I’m looking for.
“Leo,” Elijah says, exasperated. He scrubs a hand down his face.
“Shit, I didn’t expect her to do that!” Leo leans down in front of me, and I flash a loopy smile at him. “Well, at least you look like you’re having a good time.”
“Oh, I’m having a great time,” I say, bumping Beck’s hip with mine to gesture that I want to get out of the booth.
“Are you okay, Starlight?” he murmurs, pitching his voice low.
His hand rests on my waist to steady me as I find my balance on my heels.
“I’m totally good. Gucci, even.” I flash him an okay sign with my hand.
Maybe I am drunk.
That was stupid.
Fuck, I’m acting as stupid as Elijah is stupidly handsome.
“Let’s go dance!” I spin on my heel to grab Leo’s hands. “Do you dance sober?”
His lips form a cocky grin.
“Took dance lessons all through high school,” he shrugs. “I know a few moves.”
“God, I’m surrounded by perfect people,” I scoff. “You did what? Dance and swimming?”
“And piano and a shit ton of volunteering,” Beck adds. “Leo was a busy guy.”
“It gets worse!” I say, flinging my hands up in the air. “Okay, so Leo’s extra perfect. And then Beck, you’re like, perfect-perfect because, well, look at you!”
Oh, shit, I’m rambling.
I was hoping to be fun-drunk, not stupid-rambly-drunk.
So much for getting rid of my voice.
I may be thinking less, but I sure as hell am not talking less.
“You have perfect hair and perfect eyes and perfect music,” I say, slapping a hand on his chest.
“Whoa there,” Beck chuckles.
“And you!” I say, whirling on my heel and poking a finger into Elijah’s chest.
His hard-as-a-rock chest.
He raises an eyebrow, staring down at me.
My jaw works as I rest my hands on my hips.
“You’re stupid-perfect. You have no right saying the perfect things you do when you follow up with something stupid right after! And no right looking like—like—”
I let out a frustrated huff as my brain goes completely blank on a proper word to use.
I shake my head, my hair tickling the skin of my back, exposed because of the cut of the dress I’m wearing.
“Enough talking, more dancing. This was embarrassing,” I say, pressing the cool backs of my hands against my overheating cheeks.
“Hey,” Beck says, gently pulling my hands away from my face and leaning down to meet my gaze. “No need to be embarrassed. I think the three of us really like hearing how hot you think we all are.”
“All of you?” I ask, turning my head to stare up at Elijah, who has his face turned away from me.
I duck down, trying to meet his gaze.
He spins to avoid it, and I end up chasing him around in a circle like a puppy chasing its tail.
“Stay still!” I laugh, reaching out and gripping his arm.
The muscles underneath my hands flex, and I can’t help but squeeze them even tighter.
He lets out a soft grunt.
Wow. His muscles are... frankly, fucking ridiculous.
“You’re a lucky guy,” I say, leaning back so I’m facing Beck upside down.
He and Leo let out a burst of uncontrollable laughter.
“I am, aren’t I?” Beck says, flashing Elijah a wink.
“Shut up,” Elijah grunts, pulling his arm gently from my grip.
Far more gently than I thought he was capable of.
I would’ve thought he’d rip his arm away from me, sending me stumbling to the floor.
Maybe when we first met.
Hey, that’s growth right there.
“Okay, dancing now?” I pout.
“There’s no way in hell you’re getting me on that dance floor,” Eli grunts.
“Party pooper,” I huff.
“I got you,” Leo says, appearing behind me, his hands resting on my hips.
I flash him a bright grin. “Let’s go!”
Leo and I make it to the private VIP dance floor first, with me eagerly leading him.
His hands rest against my hips, and we instantly find a rhythm, swaying to the deep, bassy beat of the music pumping through the speakers.
“You know how to dance too, huh?” Leo murmurs.
“You’re not the only one who got dance lessons,” I say, flashing a wink.
He pulls me closer to him so our bodies are pressed together, his front to my front. Through the thin fabric of my dress, I can feel all of him.
He’s dressed the most simply out of the three of them, wearing a black compression t-shirt that contours to his trim waist, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. But it doesn’t mean he’s any less attractive.
I wrap my arms around his neck, staring up at him with what probably looks like a dumbstruck expression.
“I needed this,” I mumble.
“The three shots back to back?”
“Technically, I’ve had five shots already. I had two at home.”