Chapter 40
LOREN
Idiot
Can you at least give me a color?
What the hell is Josh doing here? He never comes to the east side with the “hippies and shit.” His words, not mine.
I don’t want to be in the same state as that jerkwad, let alone the same room.
Just looking at his face makes me want to puke.
I need to leave. Now. But as I scan the bar for Meg, she’s nowhere to be found.
She wouldn’t have left without me. We have a strict rule that if we want to go home with someone, we make sure to tell the other person first and get photographic evidence of the stranger so that he can be identified should one of us become a missing person.
She’s probably on the dance floor with “Timmy,” but I’m not going to stand up to look for her in case Josh sees me.
What is he doing here, anyway? This hole-in-the-wall is the type of bar Mr. Fancy-Pants would never dream of setting foot in.
Then again, maybe I’m wrong. It’s pretty damn obvious that I never knew him as well as I thought I did.
I grab my phone like a lifeline, opening my text thread with Elliott where he has sent a picture of nipple tassels.
Nope.
He texts right back.
Having a good night?
I was until dickwad showed up
All the way in East Nashville?
That’s suspicious
Tell me about it
Hold on. I never told Elliott where we were either.
How do you know where we are?
Def not from stalking IG
I didn’t post anything online. I open the app. Sure enough, Meg shared the pic we took outside the bar. Is Elliott following Meg?
Is that why Josh is here?
No. That’s crazy. He hasn’t tried to contact me in weeks. This is probably some terrible coincidence.
As if by magic, a bulbous glass appears in front of me. I glance up to find the bartender who served us earlier smiling down at me. Man, her eyeliner is on point. I wish I could do my makeup like that.
I return her smile as best I can as I slide the drink back across the bar. “I didn’t order this.”
She nods her pierced chin toward where Josh has found an empty stool at the end of the bar. Did that hurt? The piercing, not the nodding. “It’s from your secret admirer,” she says.
Would you look at that? Ratbag bought me a drink. I make a big production of handing it right back. I don’t care if it’s free. I would rather lick the floor than accept anything from him.
“You can tell my ex that he can drown in it.”
The woman glances over at Josh, her eyes narrowing. “Done and done.”
My pulse roars in my ears as I scowl down at my phone.
You thirsty?
I text Elliott a photo of my half-empty glass.
The read receipt comes straight through, and three dots pop up. But then they disappear just as quickly, and I end up waiting way too long for a reply that never comes.
Why did I agree to this again? Oh, yeah. Meg. My best friend who is currently making out with Timmy by the DJ booth.
Good for her.
I glance over to Josh, who sits like a cockroach hiding in a dark corner. What did I ever see in him? Compared to Elliott, he’s—
Nope.
Not going there.
“Excuse me?” I wave at the bartender with the piercing. “Can I get another one?”
The longer I’m here, the weirder this gets. I’ve had three glasses of gin, and Josh still hasn’t moved. Does he think I’m going to go over and talk to him? HA! It’ll take more than alcohol to get me to converse with a cockroach.
I pick up my phone. Still no messages.
Next time I drink, I’m leaving my phone at home.
I cannot believe I texted Elliott and practically begged him to come and save me.
Damsel much?
I can take care of myself. I don’t need a guy to swoop to the rescue.
There shall be no swooping.
I’m going to save myself.
Because that’s what strong, independent heroines do.
But first… I hold up a hand, calling one of the shot girls over.
“Which one do you want?” she shouts over the pulsing music, lowering the tray of colorful liquids so I can choose. Does it really matter which one I pick? If I drink enough of them, the end result will be the same.
A hand slips along my lower back, and my body goes stiff as a corpse. I turn, expecting to see Josh, but the hand doesn’t belong to him.
Elliott is smiling down at me, his dark hair damp against his temples.
Elliott is leaning down to say against my ear: “Personally, I’m partial to the green ones.”
Elliot Grant is here.
I throw my arms around his neck, breathing in the delicious cologne on his skin that smells even better than his soap. “You came.”
Okay, that was a little exuberant. Chill out, Loren.
When Elliott pulls away, he doesn’t look annoyed.
If anything, he looks happy as he leans an elbow against the bar, blocking my view of Josh.
“You asked if I was thirsty, and I am.” From his pocket, he withdraws his wallet, paying for my shot and asking if the bartender could drop down a soda. “Where’s Meg?”
“Dancing.”
“Why aren’t you dancing?” he asks, stepping closer, his strong arms caging me in.
My body melts from the heat of him. “I haven’t found anyone I want to dance with.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.” A smirk. “I’m not. Where is he?”
“End of the bar.”
“Fucking creep.”
The bartender drops down our drinks and returns his card, along with a black checkbook.
Josh is a creep. And a ratbag. And a—
Elliot leans closer, his hand slipping to my hip. “I like this dress.”
My roommate is touching me, and my brain is short circuiting, and holy crap his hands are so freaking large.
Your dress, Loren. He said he likes your dress.
“R-really?”
“Yes. Do you know what I like even more?” When I shake my head, his grip tightens. “The pockets.” He slides one hand into my pocket. With my legs tucked beneath the bar, no one else seems to notice, but I do.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Exploring these pockets you seemed so proud of earlier. Is that okay?” The silken lining is the only barrier between us as his fingertips skim where my hip meets my thigh.
Yes. Okay. More than okay. “My pockets are your pockets.”
His fingers still. “Are you wearing panties?”
Heat blooms up my throat when I shake my head.
“Fuck.” He resumes his exploration, more urgently than before, back and forth, dipping a little lower each time, until I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust.
“I lied,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear, sending tingles all the way down my spine. “I said I didn’t care. The truth is, I care way more than I should. If you’re going out, I want it to be with me.”
I’m trying hard not to romanticize this. To keep my head above water. But each stroke of his fingers threatens to pull me under.
How easy it would be to drown in his touch.
I reach for my glass, desperate for something to do with my own useless hands. I should tell him to stop. But the truth is, stopping is the last thing on my mind. “What would we be doing right now if I’d come out with you instead?”
I feel his smile against my cheek. “Spread your legs, and I’ll show you.”
My mind is screaming so loudly, I’m surprised no one seems to be able to hear it. I can’t believe this is happening.
Wait. Is it happening or am I dreaming?
Spread your legs, and I’ll show you.
The lights flash red, as if the world is telling us to stop. From the end of the bar, I catch Josh glowering. “He’s watching.”
Elliott’s nose grazes the column of my throat, the stubble on his jaw grazing my shoulder. “Good. Now, stop looking at him and look at me.” He nips my earlobe, his teeth clicking against my earring. “Open up for me, Chaos. Let’s show him how good I can make you feel.”
My heart rate kicks up. Am I going to let this happen?
I’ve been fighting the hypnosis since the day we met.
I don’t want to fight anymore.
Tonight, I want to give in.
I turn my head so I can stare into his deep blue eyes.
Yeah, I’m totally letting this happen.
I open my knees, making room for the hand still in my pocket to slide between my legs.
The neckline of my dress tugs down a bit as he reaches a little further and those silk-lined fingers find my center.
He begins massaging in slow, steady circles, teasing against my clit as the heat from his breath whispers down my throat to my collarbone, his soft, searing lips dotting hot kisses against my skin.
The strobes have nothing on the blinding lights flashing behind my eyes. The bass can’t compare to my thundering heart.
The world around us turns to shadows. It’s just Elliott and me and the steady pressure of his fingers.
Sounds grow muffled, all but our mingling breaths and my racing heartbeat. Pressure builds low in my stomach. Between my thighs. My head falls back against his shoulder, my chest rising and falling as I gasp, “Faster.”
He obeys on command, fingertips working quicker than before. If he keeps that up, I’m going to—
Oh shit.
My glass slips, and we both shatter into a million pieces.
Elliott’s Cheshire grin makes my stomach dip and twist tightly. “You were right. Those pockets are convenient.”
Even from this far away, I can see Josh’s jaw pulsing from the other end of the bar, like he knows exactly what just happened. But there’s no way, right? The people closest to us don’t seem to be paying any attention. How would he know?
Elliott stares into my eyes, his pupils blown wide and chest heaving, same as mine. “You want to get out of here?”
“Yes.” But there’s some reason I didn’t leave the moment ratbag walked in and for the life of me, I can’t remember— “Meg!” I can’t leave without talking to Meg.
Elliott retrieves his card from the checkbook, leaves a generous tip, and then tells me to wait right here, as if I’d be able to stand up when my legs are still trembling.
“I’ll find her and be right back.” His hand slips from my pocket, and he cuts through the crowd to where Meg and Timmy Triceps are wrapped around each other.
Chills skate across my arms, as if someone jacked up the AC. When I look up again, Josh’s infuriating face is only inches from mine. “Are you fucking kidding me, Loren? What the hell are you doing with that guy?”
Yeah, this isn’t happening. “I don’t want to talk to you.” I try to slide off the stool, but he blocks me.
Thank goodness for these heels; I can almost look him in his sleazy, sleepy brown eyes. I can’t believe I used to think he had puppy dog eyes. That’s an insult to dogs everywhere.
“You want to talk? Fine? How about we talk about your girlfriend?”
He doesn’t look the least bit repentant. If anything, the indignant fire in his eyes flares. “I was going to tell you about Rebecca.”
“Yeah, well. You had plenty of chances, but you didn’t.” I’m not sad; I’m pissed off. But for some reason, my body thinks I need to start crying. Tears flood my eyes, and I hate every single one that rolls down my cheeks. Hate that he probably thinks they’re for him.
They’re not. They’re for me. “I moved here for you.” I left my home and my family for him—and he let me. All he had to do was tell me the truth, to say what we did was a mistake.
Instead, he chose to lie.
His gaze softens. “Can we go somewhere? Just you and me. At least let me explain.”
What’s there to explain? He cheats on his amazing girlfriend, makes me feel like shit, like I’m some dirty little secret, and he expects me to, what, forgive him? “No.” The time for talking is long gone. Now’s the time for leaving.
I grab my purse from the hook beneath the bar and shove past him.
“I should’ve known you were nothing but a slut with how fast you jumped on my dick.” Josh speaks so loudly, the people around us all turn to stare.
Why can’t he leave me the hell alone? I hate drama. I hate it with a fiery passion. But here I am, being gawked at by a bunch of nosey strangers in the middle of a bar.
I’m probably going to end up a meme by midnight.
If I’m going down, might as well go down in flames. “You barely have a dick to jump on, Josh.”
He stumbles back as if I hit him. I really wish assault wasn’t a crime, because right now, I want to smack his face so badly.
The vein in his forehead looks like it’s ready to burst, and the shade of red painting his face does not look healthy.
Of course he doesn’t leave me with the last word. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do, and ratbag is not a gentleman.
“How do you think your boss is going to feel when she finds out you came after me?” he growls like a rabid dog.
My confidence falters, leaking through the cracks in my bravado. “That isn’t what happened.”
His hand clamps around my wrist, forcing me closer. “Who do you think she’s going to believe? Me or you?”
Rebecca is my friend. She won’t believe him.
She dated Josh for years. Why wouldn’t she?
“Let me go.”
A hand lands on Josh’s shoulder. “Back the fuck up, Joshy.”
Elliott…
Thank God.
Josh jerks out of Elliott’s grasp, his hand falling away in the process. “Fuck off.”
Elliott inserts himself between us, giving Josh his back, an impenetrable wall of muscles between my ex and me. “You okay?”
I nod even as I blink back tears, hating that Josh’s words are rolling around in my mind like a bunch of loose marbles.
No, not marbles. They’re too colorful and fun. Josh’s vicious promise is like cement in a mixer, growing heavier, thicker, harder to ignore.
I’m sick to my stomach and it has nothing to do with the drinks I had.
Elliott gently takes my hand, leading me toward the door.
“What did you say to Meg?” Thankfully, it’s too loud for him to hear the tremble in my voice.
If only there was some way to hide my brittle smile.
Remember when folding fans were a thing? I could use one right about now.
“I told her that I’m stealing you for myself.”
Cue stomach-flip. “What’d she say?”
“She told me it was about damn time.”