Chapter 12 Fun.
Fun.
I was running late.
My period had started unexpectedly, throwing off my entire night, so I let Esther leave ahead of me. Now, I was stuck taking an Uber by myself, scrolling through my phone with one hand while the other pressed against my stomach, trying to soothe the dull cramps.
When I finally arrived, the club was already jumping. The heavy bass of the music vibrated through the floor as I made my way inside.
Tonight was supposed to be a celebration—EL’evations had been officially accepted into the hair expo, and I wanted to mark the occasion with my team.
By the time I approached the table, the girls were already settled in our section, drinks in hand.
I had put some effort into my look tonight, wearing a short black tube dress that hugged my curves, paired with patterned black stockings and pointed-toe heels.
I thought I looked sophisticated—grown yet sexy.
But unfortunately, Hope barely let me settle in before throwing out her usual brand of backhanded commentary.
“You look like a slutty substitute teacher,” she said, eyes scanning me up and down.
Great.
I would be lying if I said that didn’t shake my confidence, just a little.
I smoothed my dress down and forced a small smile. “Um, thanks?”
Hope smirked and took a sip of her drink. Before I could think too much about it, Johanna piped up from beside her.
“Don’t be a hater. You look good, Ellie.”
“Yeah, I love the blowout look,” Chelsea added.
I had spent some time earlier blowing my hair out to get a clean blunt cut on my ends, and I was glad someone noticed.
I smiled. “Thanks, girls. Where’s Es and London?”
“Bathroom,” Johanna and Chelsea answered at the same time.
I took a seat next to them, glancing over at Johanna, who was leaning comfortably against the couch, her drink half-finished already.
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure you can handle that, Jo?”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I’m twenty-one.”
I gave her a look. “Yeah, but you turned twenty-one two months ago. You barely drink as it is.”
Johanna groaned dramatically, waving me off. “Oh my gosh, did we come here to party, or are you going to boss us around all night?”
I held up my hands in surrender, laughing. I wasn’t one to talk. “Do you.”
London and Esther joined us a few minutes later, sliding into the booth with fresh drinks in hand.
“Jeez, Ellie, you look fucking sexy! Do a spin,” Esther said, grinning.
I rolled my eyes but stood anyway, giving a slow twirl so they could see the full outfit. Compliments came from everyone—except Hope, of course.
Why did I invite her again?
As the night went on, we danced and drank, laughter spilling over the music. I had opened a tab for us, making sure everyone was covered, but I wasn’t expecting what happened next.
A bottle girl approached our table, carefully setting down not one, not two, but six sleek bottles of champagne.
Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Six bottles of Dom Pérignon? Elliot, you hiding money we don’t know about?”
I blinked at the sight before me. “Dom Pérignon? And six damn bottles? That’s over three grand!”
I quickly waved the bottle girl over before she could disappear into the crowd. “Babygirl, I did not order this.”
She gave me a sweet smile. “Oh, sorry! I forgot to mention it’s from the gentleman at that table over there.”
She pointed toward a private section at the very back of the club. My eyes followed her finger, landing on a familiar figure I hadn’t seen in a week.
Elliot.
The other Elliot.
“Fuck.”
Esther leaned in. “You know him, Ellie?”
I exhaled sharply. “Remember the guy from the café?”
I had given them a brief summary of my interactions with El after the event.
In response, Hope scoffed. “That’s the handsy guy who felt you up at that meeting?”
I shot her a look. “I did not say he felt me up. I said he put his hand on my back, and it made me feel weird.”
Johanna let out a low whistle. “Damn. Mr. Hands got money! Six bottles? That’s one for each of us.”
London hummed, eyes locked on the private section. “He looks good as fuck, Ellie.”
Chelsea nudged me. “Yeah, you failed to mention he was fine.”
I sighed dramatically. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”
Of course, I knew he was fine. That was never the issue. The issue was that he touched me, and I felt something. Something I didn’t feel like unpacking in the middle of the club.
The bottle girl hesitated. “So… are you keeping the bottles?”
Johanna reached for one. “Oh, we are definitely keeping the bottles.”
“Jo! We can’t keep them!” I insisted.
She pouted. “Why not? He’s obviously trying to apologize. If anything, you should go over there and thank him personally.”
Esther grinned. “Good idea! Get over there!”
My eyes darted around to each of their faces in shock. “Are y’all really trying to pimp me out for some bottles?”
“Not just any bottles, Dom Pérignon, baby!” Johanna said as she popped the cork with glee.
London joined her, “Exactly. Just go say thanks!”
I shook my head. “Hell. No.”
“Come on, E. It would be rude not to,” Chelsea smirked.
Hope shrugged. “And if you don’t, I will.”
Esther shot her a glare.
“Sit your hot ass down!” She turned back to me. “Elliot, go get your man before one of these thirsty hoes snatches him up.”
I scoffed. “One, not my man. And two, it looks like they’re celebrating something. It would be rude to interrupt.”
Esther rolled her eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “Girl, you better go over there.”
I exhaled, glancing toward the back of the club again. His gaze was already on me, waiting. My heart skipped a beat at the sight.
“Fine.”
I prayed to God for the confidence I had when I first walked in.
But as I approached Elliot’s table, the reality of my prayers going unanswered again had set in.
How crazy was it that I was walking up to a group of strangers to thank a man I hadn’t seen in over a week for bottles I hadn’t even asked for?
Still, I pushed forward, forcing the best fake smile I could manage.
Let’s just get it over with.
It was quieter back here, the section exuding an almost intimate dinner-party vibe—one I felt like I was interrupting. Still, when Elliot saw me approaching, his face lit up slightly. Standing at the edge of their section, I cleared my throat and addressed the group.
“Goodnight.”
“Ellie, hey!” El greeted. He moved over instantly, making room for me to sit, but I pretended not to notice.
“Guys, this is Elliot,” he introduced.
A wave of eyes swept over me, assessing. Suddenly, I regretted dressing like a slutty substitute teacher.
“Sorry if I’m interrupting your evening,” I added quickly, shifting on my heels.
“Not at all,” El said. “Have a seat. Please.”
He patted the spot beside him—the one he had so obviously cleared for me. There was no way to avoid it now, so I slid in next to him. Before my ass even hit the seat, the warm, spicy scent of his cologne wrapped around me. It was very intoxicating.
“How are you tonight, Elliot?” he asked, his voice low, gaze lingering on my patterned tights as I adjusted myself. The man once again had no problem openly checking me out.
“I’m good, Elliot. How are you?”
He took a slow sip of his drink before answering. “Feeling a little better now.”
Such a flirt.
El’s gaze softened when he spoke again. “It’s so nice to see you, Ellie.”
I swallowed. “It’s good to see you, too.”
He leaned back slightly, his arm resting casually on the booth behind me, careful not to make contact. “I wish I got the chance to see you sooner.”
I cringed internally, already dreading where this conversation could go. “I know, I just—”
Before I could respond, one of the men at the table, who was clearly drunk, swayed as he pointed a wobbly finger at me.
“You both are named Elliot,” he slurred. “That’s so funny.”
My eyes widened slightly.
Christ. Someone needed to cut him off. Immediately.
I shot El a concerned look.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “That’s Mike. He’s eloping in a week, so we’re throwing him a little farewell party.”
“I see,” I murmured, casting a glance at Mike, who was still giggling at his own observation.
Eager to turn the conversation away from her drunken mess of a friend, one of the women at the table cut in. “So, Elliot, how do you know our Elliot?”
I cleared my throat, grateful for the change of subject. “We met at a coffee shop.”
El smirked. “Yeah, they switched up our orders.”
I let out a small scoff, playing along like it was an inside joke. “Yup. All their fault.”
The woman grinned. “Well, you better get used to that happening.”
Next, a man from the group jumped in. “We all know El from the office. What do you do for work?”
“I own a salon,” I replied.
One of the women perked up. “What salon?”
“EL’evations.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God! Elliot Sawyer! You’re everywhere on Instagram! I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you for months!”
I guess Hope has been working hard with social media.
Heat crept up my neck. I sometimes forgot just how popular EL’evations had become. Still, I gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I had to cut my appointment times in half to prepare for a hair expo in Atlanta.”
“Oh! That’s what’s up!” she said, nodding enthusiastically. “Maybe sometime in the future.”
I just smiled and nodded. “Of course.”
The group’s conversation flowed around us, and eventually, El and I shifted into our own private bubble.
“I’m sorry I ran out on you like that. I just got so overwhelmed by everything,” I explained. “But I should’ve handled it better.”
El shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I had no right to touch you like that. I’m sorry, Elliot.”
I tilted my head. “Seems like you’re always apologizing.”
He exhaled a laugh. “Well, I keep messing up. Can I make it up to you one last time?”
I raised a brow. “After all those bottles you sent? I think we’re even.”
“Still,” he murmured, “I would love to take you out, Elliot.”