Chapter 13
ETHAN
The club was loud before we walked into it. As we trail through the dance floor to the booth that Kobi, Dane’s friend, reserved for us, it’s absurdly loud.
I’ve never been a so-called clubber or lover of loud music and tight spaces. It’s chaotic and you can’t even hold a conversation with people, not that I enjoy talking to anyone but Hannah. Still, I find the whole experience overwhelming and irritating.
But for whatever crazy reason, she loves it. We don’t go often because we’re always too busy or too tired from our rigorous schedule, but when we do, she dances until her feet can’t hold herself up anymore.
“You guys are very different!” Dane screams at me from over the thumping bass that I feel vibrate through my chest.
He tips his chin over my shoulder and when I turn around, Hannah is already deep in her element—arms up, waving her hands to the beat, her face beaming with a bright smile.
A huff out a chuckle. “Yeah, she loves this,” I agree as we round the DJ table to a booth tucked just behind the speakers making the music a few decibels lower. It’s still loud, but at least now I won’t lose my voice trying to have a conversation.
Hannah is still standing, moving her hips to the beat, as Kobi speaks fluent French to the hostess that just led us to our table.
I was surprised when Dane introduced us to Kobi.
I don’t know what I expected a friend of Dane’s to be like.
But it wasn’t a six-foot something half-asian guy with piercing green eyes that speaks five different languages, working as a translator for the Japanese prime minister. That was definitely not it.
“I’d rather you check me out, instead of my friend,” Dane says as he steps up behind me.
I jump-turn, startled by his close proximity but also offended that he thinks I’d be checking out his friend.
I open my mouth to defend myself but as I look into his bright blue eyes, they’re a tad bit more vulnerable than I expected. I feel the need to thank him for what he did for Hannah earlier.
“I—I like what you did back at the restaurant…for Hannah. That was nice of you.” I invisibly roll my eyes at myself.—That was nice of you? God, I’m a fumbling idiot.
“Devouring your girlfriend's mouth was nice of me?” he asks, the playful smirk that maintains permanent residence on his face gets a little deeper, causing a small dimple to appear at the top corner of his mouth.
“No, I m-meant—” I stutter through a few words before he saves me with a question.
“So, she likes this…” He tips his chin at Hannah, still in her own world dancing and lip-syncing to the music in front of our table. “What do you like?”
I pause thinking about that question. It’s not that I don’t know what I like, it’s that I hate opening up to people.
But, there’s something that makes opening up to him easy.
“A quiet night in. That’s more my style. She’s always been a bit more of the party animal and risk taker. I’m safe, reliable.”
Boring.
To this day, I have no idea how Hannah and I connected so well; we’re opposites in almost everything, yet somehow, we match each other perfectly.
She’s a bookworm and was always a straight A student but she still knows how to let loose and have fun.
She’s also easily liked by so many. All of which is the exact opposite of myself.
I got by in school, but I’ve always had more athletic ability than anything—which means nothing now—so, I’m forced to rely on my mediocre degree to get a mediocre job that I feel mediocre about. And no one really finds me likable.
I suppose I wasn’t always like this, but this way feels better than letting people in who I don’t care to get to know.
Since I met Hannah, she’s been the most important thing in my life and I have every intention of keeping it that way.
“How about you?” I flinch at my own question, internally scolding myself for asking.
I don’t really care. Why did I even ask?
And by the look on Dane’s face, he’s just as shocked by my question as well.
Hannah’s been actively acting as a buffer between us.
She’s been purposely signing me questions to ask him all day.
This is the first one I think I’ve asked on my own.
Plus, I’ve been attempting to ignore him since he made that comment at the restaurant earlier.
Let him taste me on you.
I still don’t know if I’m pissed, irrevocably turned on, or all in at this point.
Whatever it is that we’re doing is leading in some direction that I’m unsure of. I want it more than I’m willing to admit, but frankly, it scares the shit out of me.
“I’m sort of a free spirit, I guess. I go with the flow, live day by day. Life’s too short, you know?”
“Dane’s a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of guy.
He’s the most exciting, but impulsive guy you’ll ever meet.
Insanely honest, loyal, and kindhearted, too,” Kobi chimes into our conversation as he sits down next to Dane, “oh, and he’s willing to try anything once.
” His slight European accent gives that last statement more sensuality than it should.
Dane shrugs, raising his eyebrows, clearly unable to contest what he said.
“Just ask him about George. Oh, and Sarina, that’s a good story. Oh, Oh, did you tell him about—”
“Kobi,” Dane elongates his name in a threat.
Kobi’s hands shoot up in surrender and a surge of jealousy rolls through me.
Who the fuck is George?
At least now I know for certain he swings both ways. I can’t imagine any woman’s name is George. I mean, you never know but still. I suspected he likes both, it’s been clear by all his actions today and especially tonight.
My dick begins to stir behind my pants and I need to get the fuck out of here. This booth feels tiny all of a sudden.
I stand, ignoring this conversation about George, and the foreign mixture of bitterness and lust building inside me.
“I’m going to check on Hannah.” It’s a lame excuse since she’s only a few steps in front of our table but I still need to get away.
Stepping up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and begin to move my body with hers.
I hate dancing, but it’s better than sitting there listening to his crazy escapades with a past lover. Lovers, in his case.
The waitress comes in between our table and where Hannah and I are dancing. She hands each of us a martini glass full of dark brown liquid and a creamy foam top with a small bean placed elegantly in the middle.
“What is this?” I yell over the music at Dane.
“Espresso martini.” He tips his glass up in a silent toast, then takes a sip.
Great. Alcohol and caffeine. Neither one I drink much of. It’s going to be a long night.