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Fuzzy-brained, I stare as she slips into the crowd. The bar she dragged me to is not a place I would normally go, the crowd of well-dressed and lithe bodies too hip for my comfort.
A tall, dark-haired man in ripped jeans and a leather jacket moves behind her, his hips slowing to match hers. I’m mesmerized by the way he snakes a hand along her hip to splay across her stomach, pulling her against him as they dance. I can feel the ghost of Teddy’s hands on me the same way.
Closing my eyes, I let the thumping bass saturate my bones. I want to kick myself for falling into Teddy’s bed like I did. For years I hadn’t needed that kind of touch, hadn’t needed to feel a man’s hands on my body. I’d pushed away my desire to feel wanted until I could ignore it.
And then Teddy went and lit a fire in me that I can’t extinguish.
I want to hate him, but I can’t. Lauren is right. He’s not trying to buy me, he’s just trying to help. Same as she is. But the idea of taking their money rankles.
“Hey sweet cheeks, did you want another?” The bartender who’s been pouring our drinks all night raps his knuckles on the bar top to get my attention. I nod, slurping down the last of my drink. “Still on your friend’s tab?”
I’m so tired of being the poor friend. The one who needs help. I want to be able to pay my own way. I don’t need an extravagant life—I don’t need millions. I want to be able to go grocery shopping without calculating the total and praying I have enough in the bank to cover it.
“No, put this one on mine.” I fish in my clutch for the card I’d stuffed in there earlier. He takes it and proceeds to pour another delicious concoction of whiskey and other stuff into a shaker for me. “What am I drinking? I forgot.”
The deep voice and warm body that slides in behind me should startle me. “Looks like a whiskey sour to me.” If I wasn’t two drinks deep, it would have. Instead, I let a smile creep across my face and swivel to face the speaker.
He’s taller than I expected and lean. His sharp features give him an aristocratic air. I suppose he would be considered attractive, although his visibly thinning dirty-blond hair is too long for my taste. But I smile anyway. This is good, I should practice this kind of thing.
“That sounds right. Are you an expert?” My words are fuzzy round the edges, but I pair them with an attempt at a flirtatious smile. I haven’t been hit on since I was in college and I forgot what a boost it could be to my self-confidence.
“I don’t know if I’d say I was an expert, but I’ve had my fair share of them.” He leans close, his next words buzzing against my ear. “Are you here alone?”
I pull back and point to Lauren, still dancing in the crowd. “No, I’m here with my friend.”
“You don’t want to dance?” He rests a hand on my shoulder, his thumb tracing circles against my skin. If it was Teddy, I’d be purring like a cat at the touch. But mystery man’s caress isn’t doing anything for me. Is it awful that I want to shrug him off?
“I like to dance. I just haven't felt like it yet.” I shrug, hoping it’ll knock his hand off me. It doesn’t, but he lets go to take my drink from the bartender and slide it over.
I pick it up to take a sip, the sweet and sour liquid burning as it hits my throat.
“Did you want to leave it open or close the tab?”
I swipe my hand across my throat to tell the bartender to close my tab and he disappears to the terminal a few feet away.
“What’s your name?” Blondie asks, leaning close to me to be heard over the music. I’m pretty sure he also took a peek down my cleavage. Teddy would have been more subtle.
“Elinor.” Being Elinor is more fun than being Sophie. My whiskey-soaked brain agrees with me. “What’s yours?”
“Danny. You want to dance?”
I slurp down more of my drink, letting it tell me that dancing with a random man is a great idea.
What better way to get over Teddy than to dance the night away with some guy who hit on me in a random bar? Besides, Danny obviously thinks I’m attractive. Maybe this is just the boost I need to forget my regret over turning Teddy down and live a little. Isn’t that what Lauren is always telling me?
I’m about to swivel away from the bar to go dance, when I remember I need my card. The bartender is making his way back, a concerned scowl on his face, my card in his hand. “Sorry Doll, your card keeps being declined. Do you have cash or do you want me to go ahead and put the drink on your friend’s tab?”
And just like that, my bubble bursts.
“You can put it on my tab,” Danny says before I can answer. “I was going to offer to buy this beautiful lady a drink anyway.”
My stomach hollows out. Saved once again by the kindness of a stranger. I can’t even afford to buy myself a fucking drink. Anger and humiliation burn through me, leaving me shaking and on the verge of tears.
He turns to me and holds out a hand. “Come on.”
I finish my drink and set the empty glass on the bar top. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” I have to pull him down to shout in his ear. I don’t meet his eyes, too humiliated that he heard what happened.
Danny runs a hand up my back, guiding me onto the dance floor. “I was going to anyway, in the hopes I’d get you to come dance with me.”
