Chapter 15
Calvin
Nikita smells of cocoa butter and bad decisions. A part of me - the sane, level-headed part - is annoyed with her unsolicited opinions on Violet and me, but another part of me - a part I am not familiar with - can’t ignore that there is something in the air between us right now. It’s the reason I reach out to wrap my arm around her waist. The idea of making Violet jealous, no matter how childish that might be, intrigues me enough to participate in this display of affection. What surprises me the most is how it feels.
It feels… good. Touching Nikita isn’t supposed to feel good.
You’re doing this to make Violet jealous.
Violet - yes, her.
I had been anxious the entire night, waiting to see her again. When she arrived and I laid eyes on her, my stomach dropped and there was a faint pang in my chest. One that came from the familiarity between the two of us and how quickly we had turned into nothing more than mere strangers. She seems to care very little about the fact I have a new girlfriend and honestly, that pisses me off. Three years of building a life together and she moved on as if it made no difference to her. Apart from her cheap shot at Nikita about her job - something I didn’t expect from her - she seems happy for me.
“Making someone jealous only works if they care. Violet doesn’t care that I have a new girlfriend,” I say dryly.
“Of course she does.”
I feel Nikita’s nails slowly scratching against the back of my head and without intending to, I lean into her touch enjoying what it feels like. This is all part of the pretense so I must react accordingly.
Yep, that’s why.
Not because her nails feel so good in my hair, and it’s rather soothing. “We took her by surprise,” Nikita murmurs with a low voice. Although her words aren’t particularly seductive, there is something about her delivery that draws me in, “All we have to do is keep it up.”
“Hello? Hi! Can you all hear me?” Britney’s voice seeping through the speakers as the music goes silent, snaps me back to reality.
Thank fuck.
Nikita and I turn towards where she stands on the far end of the outside area on the slightly raised stage. She makes sure that no matter what, everyone knows she is the bride and that includes the lace veil she has in her hair, paired with her short white dress. “Kenneth and I just wanted to welcome you guys to our wedding week leading up to our big day on Saturday! Eek!” Her voice is borderline nasal and full of excitement, “Kendra -my maid-of-honor- and beautiful sister - should have handed out the itinerary for the week, but if you haven’t gotten one yet, then I might need to replace her.” A boisterous laugh followed. “I’m kidding.” She points to her sister, “K, you know I love you.”
She proceeds to go through a list of thank you’s and other information quickly becoming boring. When I turn back towards the bar, Nikita is already chatting with the bartender. Clearly Britney’s speech bore her too.
I move next to her, “What are you ordering?”
“Nothing. Just chatting with Blake over here.”
The bartender has a name?
Of course, he has a name, but why does Nikita know that? I divert my attention to Blake giving him a quick nod of the head. “A bourbon, please, neat.”
“Comin’ roight up, sir.”
I recognize that accent. “You from Birmingham?”
“Yes, sir, bo’n and raised.” He nods towards me and flashes Nikita a smile before disappearing to the other side.
“How did you know where he was from?” Nikita asks.
I turn towards her leaning against the bar, “One of my colleagues is from there. The accent is hard to miss.”
“I love it,” she gushes, “I could listen to him speak all night.”
There’s a flicker of annoyance from Nikita’s comment, but it’s quickly interrupted by Britney’s voice bursting through the speakers with more volume than before. “Let’s get this party started!” Her movement of the mic causes it to feed, making everyone cringe at the high-pitched sound. “Whoops!”
She dumps the mic back on the table with a thump before the music returns.
“Your drink, sir.” Blake places the drink down on the bar.
I grab the drink, sending a nod his way as I turn to glance over the room. “You can go now.”
My drink pauses halfway to my lips as Nikita steps in front of me glaring at me from beneath her long, thick eyelashes. “That was very rude.” I look down at her. Even though she is wearing a pair of heels, she’s still significantly shorter than me, barely reaching my chin. “What?”
She looks unimpressed, “Why were you rude to Blake?”
I sip on my drink. “Why are you on a first-name basis with the bartender?”
“Why not?” she argues, “I’d much rather have a conversation with him than anyone here, including you.”
I scoff rolling my eyes, “What a lovely thing for a girlfriend to say.”
She leans closer to me, catching me by surprise as she invades my personal space again. “Just so you know, I don’t take lightly to treating people in the service industry like shit. Actually, I don’t take lightly to treating anyone like shit, which I can see seems to be a foreign concept to you and your choice of company. No boyfriend of mine would ever do that - I don’t date assholes.”
I have been called out before, but there is something about the way she does it, her voice dripping with disappointment and contempt that has a pang of unexpected guilt reveal itself. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to help myself to some more champagne while you try and figure out where you left your manners.” She takes off towards the patio.
Her words douse me in shame. That wasn’t my finest moment and it bothers me that she bore witness to that. I rarely get called out, I am usually the one to do that, but when it comes to Nikita, she doesn’t hold anything back. It is one of the reasons she and I bump heads so much. It’s as if she has to say every thought she has, but in this moment, I respect her for that.
I was an asshole.
Blake moves across the bar catching my attention, “Thanks for the drink.”
He glances back with a bottle of whiskey in his hand as I place a fifty euro bill on the bar in an attempt to make up for my dismissive behavior.
He thanks me and nods with a smile before returning to the order he’s working on. I down the rest of my drink with every intention of going to apologize to Nikita, but when Kenneth and Paul find me by the bar, they proceed to order a round of shots.
Save me, now.