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ChapterThree
Saffron
"Come on sweetheart,get your shots in. You're staying with me tonight, so no excuses," Tab roared over the noise.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to do shots."
"Yes, you are. You need to loosen up."
"I'm plenty loose,” I said stiffly. But I wasn’t. I knew I should try to relax and have some fun. It was my bloody birthday after all.
Tabitha laughed. "Honey, you're clutching onto your phone like it's your lifeline out of hell. We don't get service in hell, babes."
I had to laugh at that. "Okay, fine. I will relax." She was right. Having fun wouldn’t kill me.
She handed me a shot. I didn't even bother asking what it was. It was my birthday. I could live a little.
“Hottie hunt time!”
"Tabs, I'm not hooking up with some random bloke."
"Love, when was the last time you hooked up with any bloke, random or otherwise?"
I tried not to think about my last disastrous attempt at any kind of hookup. I was starting to believe that I wasn’t really cut out for hooking up. I needed to know someone. I needed to actually like them as a person. Yes, I had had sex. But my last attempts had been awkward, and there was certainly no magic. No amazing orgasms. No orgasms at all for that matter. The guy had been fine. I just hadn't particularly enjoyed myself, and all I wanted to do was to get rid of him. But he was that kind of bloke who holds on tight afterward. And then he wanted to go a second round. I had to leave my own flat just to escape him.
Luckily, that had been in uni, so Gabe hadn't had constant security on me. Maybe that was part of the reason I didn’t date. I was always expecting my brother to be somewhere around the corner ready to ruin my life. I tried to find the spirit of fun as we shoved our way through the club, and Tabs took my hand as soon as a song from Three Six Mafia came on. All I heard was a roar of women as everyone ran for the dance floor, making it a packed, sweaty, sex gyration.
I normally didn’t like crowds or that closed-in feeling. But this was fine because there was dancing involved and I could close my eyes and be someone else.
As Tabs and I danced and the songs switched easily from Three Six Mafia to Dua Lipa to Britney Spears and then to Sean Paul, I moved my body in time with the music, rocking my hips.
I’d always loved to dance. I got it from my mother. When I was dancing, I could be anybody. I could hide. I could pretend.
Or maybe you are showing your true self.
Tabs and I had gathered a small audience as we worked through different dance styles. We took it from the 80’s to present, laughing our way through the silliness. The twerking and wining were the crowd favorites.
As I danced, I mostly kept my eyes closed, just letting my body move to the music. Suddenly, mid twirl, I could feel a prickle of awareness. My eyes blinked open and I searched the crowd. I knew people were watching, but I didn't care. It was my birthday, and I wasn't going to do some strained, quiet dinner with Gabe where he gave me some present that had nothing to do with who I was. Being out. Being free. Friends, dancing. Fun. This was what I needed. I told myself I was being paranoid. Yes, men were watching, but there was no danger here. Except that feeling, the prickly heat sensation, moved from my neck to my limbs, and the hairs on my arms stood at attention.
Someone was watching me.
I danced and turned in a circle, looking for who was causing me the heightened fight reflex.
That’s not a fight reflex. That’s a fuck reflex.
My gaze flickered over a bloke who was about five-foot-ten and blond, and he took that as an invitation.
His mate wrapped his hands around Tab's waist, pulling her into him. She smiled coyly at him as she turned around to get a good look at his face. The blond bloke started dancing closer to me, but the look I gave him probably terrified him because he did not touch me, which was in his best interest.
I knew he wasn’t the bloke who had been staring at me because I still felt the kiss of hyperawareness and the tantalizing tug of adrenaline. Fight or fuck.
The four of us danced. Tabs with her bloke, and me in the vicinity of the blond. The intensity grew as my breath rate increased. This was a flight response, a warning. More on edge now, I was less surreptitious about seeking out the source. Was there a problem? Was there danger? Was I paranoid? My instincts said no.
My mother told me to never ignore that feeling. To always pay attention to my instincts and what they were telling me. She taught me not to react to it before taking in all of the information.
Then I saw him. The man was watching from one of the booths. He was in the VIP section talking with another man who had a girl with blond hair and big fake boobs on his lap. She had big hair, extensions, the whole bit. Almost like she was a caricature of herself. He caught me looking his way, and our gazes held and locked. Then the barest hint of a smile tipped up the corner of his lip. He wore a long-sleeved white button down with the sleeves rolled up, showing off muscular forearms. His hair was artfully tousled as if he’d just run gel through it haphazardly. I could tell it was dark, curling slightly. He had on dark jeans. Maybe black. On one of his hands, he wore two rings. Silver or platinum, maybe. No visible tattoos that I could see. He wore something around his neck. I couldn't make out the design of the pendant, but it wasn't on a metallic chain. Maybe it was leather or something else.
I purposefully angled my body away, dancing and turning my back to him just to make sure I wasn't imagining it. When I turned back to him, his gaze hadn't faltered.
