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“Wait a minute. Weren’t you the one who told me that I needed to pull the stick out of my ass and replace it with something else?”
He remains silent and I laugh in his face, ending our argument. Grabbing his arm, I hop off the stool and push him aside to head to the dance floor. Sober, there would be no chance in hell I would dance by myself, but what won’t kill me will make me stronger. That, and I just want to escape him.
The dance floor is stifling hot and bodies are squished together, forcing me to bump butts with a cougar beside me. She has to be at least fifty, dressed in the tightest leather pants I have ever seen, trying to tongue-wrestle a guy young enough to be her son. God help me, I don’t want to be single at fifty. What if I have to wear tight leather pants? This image is depressing, and all of a sudden my self-esteem has sailed away until Mr. Smokin’ Hot is dancing in front of me. I am pulled out of my mini-funk so fast I swear my kitty is twerking beside me. Just for a split second, the idea of having this gorgeous man inside me is sending signals to all the right places.
I move in a little closer, and he leans in to whisper.
“You’re gorgeous. What’s your name?”
“Presley,” I respond in my seductive, yet intoxicated, voice.
The heat is radiating off his body and the closer I move in, the more excited I feel. He wraps his arms around my waist and just before our bodies touch, I am pulled into a different direction and the distance between us grows. What’s happening? Moments later, I am in the alleyway and Haden is standing in front of me, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.
“What the hell just happened?”
“I don’t get you!” he yells.
“What?” I am still looking at the door, confused and trying to understand what the hell just happened.
“You act all Miss Perfect, and then you’re on the dance floor like a tramp.”
“What did you just call me?”
He almost looks apologetic, but verbal diarrhea is hard to control (I should know). The bubbles of anger are simmering at the surface and I clench my fists, controlling my behavior as much as I possibly can. I’m not going to rule out the idea of smacking that pretty face of his again.
“God, you think it’s okay to punch people in the face?”
“You think it’s okay to bring someone down when they are already on the ground barely able to walk? The shit you said hurt, okay? I’ve been single for two minutes and I see my ex-fiancé with another woman! This was the guy I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I love him. I didn’t just forget what love is even if I called it quits.”
“Why did you call it quits?” he demands.
It’s a yelling match, and normally I would have told him to butt out. “Because I wanted more, okay? I don’t know what the hell that is and maybe I’m stupid for thinking that life wasn’t about being comfortable. I wanted excitement, kinda like punching you in the face.”
The laughter escapes me again and my fists relax, moving towards my stomach to control the stitch forming from the uncontrollable giggles.
“And you still think that’s funny?”
I bet it hurt; the swollen lip looks terrible on him and all I want to do is make it worse.
I have my devil suit on, pitchfork standing proud, and I play nasty.
I move my body forward and smash my lips onto his.
Oh shit. Now it’s officially game over.
Chapter Five
Sometimes, in our wildest dreams, something extraordinary happens. A moment where you pinch yourself because you’re certain it’s just a dream, only to find out it is in fact reality.
When I was eight, my mom dragged me to a shopping mall where the cast of Dallas was appearing. Never had I seen my mom so excited to meet a bunch of old folk that apparently were royalty in the soap opera world. My dad found it both hilarious and pathetic but gave her some extra spending money to buy a new dress, should she be lucky enough to get a photo.
I never forgot the moment when one of the lead actors asked a question to the crowd, picked my mom to answer, then welcomed her up onto the stage. Every woman in that overcrowded shopping mall was green with envy. On the car ride home (and days continuing) it was all she could talk about. Her wildest dream came true and maybe, one day, if I was fortunate enough, it could happen to me.
I wasn’t aspiring to meet the cast of Dallas but I had high hopes that the cast of Melrose Place would make it out to Virginia. It never happened of course.
Making out with Haden Cooper—the biggest jerk to walk the planet—is not my wildest dream. Yet everything about what is happening between us in this dark and secluded alleyway is the wildest thing to happen to me. Dreams and reality become a hazy fog. What the hell am I doing? Purposefully, I move my hands towards my thigh, pinching myself in hopes that it’s all a dream, but low and behold, each pinch only causes me to scowl as his lips press hard against mine.
It was supposed to cause him pain. So why the hell is he kissing me back?
