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My body tensed as she tossed back her dark hair. Chase had exaggerated — it didn’t hang down to her ass, it hit a couple inches above her waist, outlined by tight black jeans.
Nearby stood her “friend” Sydney, transfixed by the show. Her other friends clustered around her, whispering. She was clearly aware of the attention on her, trying to act flattered, yet humble. Cool and casual.No big deal— that was Christina’s mantra. But a flush spread down her neck and chest.
She hadn’t been putting me on; people knew who she was. Her breakup with the lizard was obviously public knowledge.
I wondered if anyone here had the smallest idea of how big a deal things really were to her. If they could guess the intensity burning beneath her jokes and flip comments. If she’d ever allowed anyone else a glimpse of who she was.
The song was a ballad — maudlin, sentimental. It would have bored me if it involved strangers, but I couldn’t stop watching Christina. On either side, people swayed to the music, waving their phones in the air. Her friends wrapped their arms around each other. Sydney’s eyes never left the stage. Christina’s shoulders hunched, stiff.
The lyrics went from sappy to personal and uncomfortable. The good-luck charm was drinking more. Passed out on the floor. Pushing away the people she cared about, on a downward spiral. All when he only wanted the best for her.
I saw Christina blinking in embarrassment and annoyance. Then, realizing people were looking at her, she pasted on a smile, pretending everything was cool, bobbing her head to the music. But she couldn’t keep it together for long.
When the lizard slithered into the last chorus, she hefted her purse and pushed through the crowd to the door. Her friends buzzed, staring after her retreating form, but none of them made a move to follow.
Onstage, the lizard flipped back his hair and gazed soulfully at the crowd. His eyes cut to Christina hurrying out the door, and, fast as a flickering tongue, a smirk crossed his lips.
I’d been wrong. He wasn’t a clingy bastard; he was a sadistic fuck. And in my fist, my empty soda can crumpled like it was his shriveled reptilian heart.
I dropped the can on the bar and checked my watch. Weighing down my wrist with links of platinum, a fucking handcuff binding me to the past. The most expensive thing I’d ever owned.
11:15.
Unclasping the band, I held it out to Ulloa.
“Hey, man. You want a watch?”
12
No Angels
Patrick
When I left the club, the air was cold and crisp. My breath puffed white. Outside, I could breathe.
I looked around for Christina and spotted her at the far end of the brick wall fronting the club. Neon lights blinked off her profile and made her dark hair glow red. No one else was nearby.
She clutched her hair, then let go, rubbing her temples. I watched and waited, silent in the shadows.
Unzipping her purse, she reached in and came out with a handful of something. When she tossed it in her mouth, I tensed.
Pills? She was jittery some nights when she came to my room, and I doubted the jumpiness was only because of me.
As she chewed, her shoulders visibly relaxed. A bag caught the light, sticking out of her purse, and when she reached back in, I recognized the logo and the colorful candy. Gummy bears. She gulped another handful and chewed like nothing else could take away the stress.
I thought about going to her. I knew about the ghosts of exes. And I knew about passing out on the floor.
At that moment, she pushed back her coat sleeve to check her watch. A secret smile crossed her face, lingering on her full lips. She tipped her head back again, but this time, as she exposed her throat, the move wasn’t despairing. It was sensual.
One finger trailed down her neck. Slowly, her hand wrapped around her own throat. Her lips parted, and my cock stirred.
She was lost in an erotic fantasy.
If I approached her now — as a friend — it would destroy that fantasy and shred my boundaries. Our arrangement was cash and fucking only And I had little to offer when it came to friendship.
Her eyes snapped open. Determined now, she retrieved her phone from her purse and texted rapidly, then walked off in the direction of frat row. I watched her hips sway in tight jeans — athletic with a delectable overlay of softness.
As she disappeared between the trees, an arm touched mine. Perfume, heavy and sweet, weighed down the cold night air. Christina’s “friend” stood at my elbow.
