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“She doesn’t want to be famous. She’s going to study art. And you need to stop watching her like that,” I repeat, this time pulling my own eyes away. I can’t ever let Apollo catch me looking at her. Because I know she feels the same way. But I’m not free to give her what she wants. Not now.
Apollo is my other half. The part of me that’s good and happy. I have to believe I can still reclaim that. Even after everything I’ve done.
The shitbag she’s dancing with leans down, whispers in her ear, and runs a finger down her shoulder. My stomach tightens with anger and jealousy at the way she leans into him and smiles.
I stand up and look down at my friends. Omar’s got a girl on his lap and another tucked into his side. I curl my lip in disgust at him. He’s going to be pissed when he wakes up tomorrow. I lean down and whisper in his ear, “Stop drowning your sorrows in pussy, man.”
“Shut the fuck up, Graham,” he says, shoving me away with his shoulder. I laugh because I know he knows I’m right.
Reece’s eyes are glued to his BlackBerry, his eyes darting back and forth reading emails or reports or whatever. This guy is a workaholic in a way that I think was unhealthy. But, I know that work is how he escapes the drama he has with his wife. I would say bye, but he likely wouldn’t remember it later anyway.
I look back at Dave. “I’ll call you. Let’s wreak a little havoc before you leave for NYC.”
He stands up. “Of course. I’m always down for whatever.” His eyes are uncharacteristically serious as we face each other.
“I don’t know what you’re doing with that blonde viper, man. But, don’t fuck things up with Apollo. You’ll never, ever do better than her.” His words are punch to my gut and I glance over my shoulder to where she’s dancing.
When I look back at him, his usual easy-going expression is back. He gives me a lopsided, conspiratorial grin, “Fuck her before she leaves; that’ll fix everything. I’m going to the bar.”
After a two fingered salute, he steps around me and disappears into the crowd.
I pick up Reece’s untouched glass of Patrón. He doesn’t drink, but he always orders a shot that he keeps propped in front of him. It keeps the servers from asking him if he’d like a refill. He’s still absorbed in whatever he’s reading and doesn’t look up as I throw back his drink.
I wipe away a splash that landed on my chin and then walk to the dance floor.
Dave’s jibe about fucking Apollo isn’t a new one. I always ignore him even though just those two words in the same sentence send blood rushing straight to my dick. I ignore it. I have sworn that I won’t let myself think of her that way until I don’t ever have to touch anyone else again.
When I reach Apollo, her back is to me. I run a hand up her side, my hand spanning her stomach as I pull her to me.
She falls backward and lands on my chest, and I wish I had the right to hold her there. But I don’t. So, I step back. The guy she was dancing with looks like he’s about to protest, but all it takes is a quirk of my eyebrow for him to think better of it.
He saunters off, and in less than two paces has attached himself to another woman.
Asshole.
“Hey,” Apollo turns to face me. She beams up at me, her eyes smiling, and I’m so surprised I don’t respond right away.
“This is fun, right?” she shouts over the music, grinning as she looks around the crowded room.
“Not really. You ready to leave?” I ask and hope I don’t look as nervous as I feel.
“Sure, why not?” She says with a noncommittal shrug. That’s a good enough answer for me.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. I grab her hand and pull her off the dance floor. When we get to the edge of the crowd, she tugs my hand, and I stop to look back at her.
“Thanks for cutting in back there; he couldn’t seem to take a hint,” she says as she pulls up the straps of her skimpy little tank top. I watch the slide of her fingertips over that bronze, smooth a silk skin, and my fingers itch to touch.
Just a little.
I stick my hands in my pockets and raise a skeptical eyebrow at her.
“Yeah. I guess he didn’t know that your flirtatious laughter and hair flipping meant you weren’t interested.”
“I was not flirting with him. I was dancing, and he did say something funny …” she taps her chin for a minute before a cute as fuck frown pushes her lips downward. “But, I can’t remember.” She throws her head to the side a little and giggles delightedly.
“Sunshine, are you … drunk?” I ask as I look closely at her.
She nods and then her head falls back, her mouth wide open as she laughs—boisterously.
