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Ifeltalittleself-conscious squeezing myself into a dress that I think is too small. From the way Dom has been eyeing me, maybe I have nothing to worry about. Still, this is more revealing than what I usually wear, but it’s the only thing I packed that I think is appropriate for the party.
Dom follows closely behind me, his hand hovering over the small of my back. But he doesn’t touch me. He’s surprisingly restrained and very respectful. It’s nice.
“Do you know anyone here?” I ask as we walk into the hotel’s space. There are a lot of people here, strobe lights adorning the space as a bass line makes the floor vibrate.
“I know you,” he says into my ear. He’s screaming, I’m sure, but because it’s so loud around us, I can barely discern what he’s saying. “I’m your date here, not the other way around.”
“You’re my date, huh?” I ask.
I turn to look at him, raising my brows as I wait for him to clarify. Before he can, though, I feel someone tug at my wrist and turn my head around until I’m faced with Javi’s chest.
I read the word on his shirt and then let my gaze slide up to his face. There’s a smile on it, his brown eyes shining. “Hi,” he screams, inching close to me so I can hear him. “I was worried you weren’t going to be able to make it.”
“I didn’t have any other plans.”
His smile widens. “Who’s this?” he asks, his gaze slowly drifting toward Dom.
Dom sticks his hand. “Hi. I’m a hired hand. Huge fan.”
Javi smiles. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “What did you say your name was?”
“Dom,” he replies.
They stare at each other for a few seconds. I wonder if this means they’re going to get into a fight–this kind of staring doesn’t seem friendly–but Javi finally breaks into a smile as he turns his head
“Let me introduce you to everyone here,” he says. He beckons me forward and my gaze flits between him and Dom, who is nodding at me. I feel a little bad leaving him behind but I don’t have much time to think about it because Javi’s hand is wrapped around my wrist and he’s pulling me around the party, introducing me to people whose names I definitely won’t be able to remember. In fact, most of them are people whose names I can’t hear.
That doesn’t seem to deter him. I do notice there’s a security detail watching his every move, standing above everyone else, but trying their best to blend into the crowd.
They’re wearing all black and they look like football players, so I think it would be difficult for them not to stand out. I wonder if Javi is used to this, to someone always watching him. I guess it shouldn’t be that out of the ordinary for me considering what happened with Trine, but still.
When it feels like we’re finished with the rounds–when we’ve met his band, and his friends, and his cousins, and the roadies–he finally makes his way to the bar and flags down the bartender.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“Rum and coke?”
“One rum and coke,” he says to the bartender. “Vodka, neat, for me.”
I cock my head as I look at him.
“I’m on a diet,” he says. “Really, I’m not supposed to be drinking at all.”
“You’re on a diet?” I ask and immediately regret it. That doesn’t seem like a nice thing to ask someone.
“Yeah, I’m always on a diet when I’m on tour,” he replies. “Everyone wants to take pictures with you, everyone posts about you on social media. You want to make sure you look good.”
I grimace. “Shit, maybe I should be on a diet too.”
He shakes his head emphatically. “No,” he says. “You look good. You don’t need a diet, don’t let anyone pressure you into this shit.”
I want to ask him about this–obviously, someone is pressuring him–but I’m interrupted by the bartender bringing our drinks. He hands me mine and then lifts his glass in the air.
“Cheers,” he says. “To the upcoming tour.”
“Cheers,” I reply, clinking our glasses together. “I’m excited.”
“Me too,” he says. I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. I’m not sure why, but the music seems a little quieter here, and there is some space and quiet for us to talk.
