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As usual, I’m driving her to Myth tonight for her shift, the last and final place I get to experience during my standard routine, and for the most part, the only tiny step outside my protective bubble that I can manage.
Since the fight, I’ve been nervous to be there.
And because of the fight, I was knocked back into my protective bubble. That’s why on most nights I drop her by the front door, leave, then drive back to take her home if Granger doesn’t take her for me.
But tonight, I’m venturing away from my dorm room and library again. Only because I feel safer now that they made some changes at the club. Plus, all the employees know me and watch out for me. Patrick always ensures that the club remains calm and danger free for the most part. The night the fight broke out wasn’t his fault, and one man alone wasn’t enough to contain it.
That night, Granger had to call in the cops for the first time in the history of Myth. It’s given me nightmares to remember how Ames and I got trapped in the middle of it through no fault of our own.
You like me…
A bark of laughter shakes my chest, disbelief still shrouding me over the insistence the Jackass who started the fight had about me wanting anything to do with him.
As if I’d associate with a person like that. He’s exactly the type of man my parents always warned me about.
I haven’t seen him since that night, and thank God for that. But if he shows his face again, I’ll insist Ames find a new job … or a new ride there.
It would be a bad idea for him to try a stunt like that again, though.
Because of that night, four more bouncers have been added to the club. Two upstairs and two downstairs, all four as big and capable as Patrick to handle anybody who wants to start trouble.
“I go with you every night,” I answer, careful to use my thumb and fingertip to pluck away the pair of lacy panties that Ames mindlessly tossed in my lap.
She turns to look at me, a bright smile stretching her lips, a perfectly shaped brow arching over her eye. “You drop me off. There’s a difference.”
Scanning me from head to toe, disapproval alters her expression. “I could find something else for you to put on. Would definitely be better than the T-shirt and jeans you wear everywhere you go.”
Arguing with Ames on this issue has been almost a nightly event, even when I’m not staying after dropping her off.
“My T-shirt and jeans are comfy, thank you very much.”
“Your life is too comfy,” she counters. “It might do you some good to change it up.”
Too comfy.
Of course, she would say that.
Ames is the poster child for wild and free.
But I can’t be like Ames. Or like many people in her social circle for that matter.
Hell, Ames and I wouldn’t even be friends if she hadn’t almost failed a class and crawled into the library one night desperate for a tutor.
Somehow we clicked when I was the person who reached out to help her, despite being opposites. She’s become like a sister to me since.
“It’s fine. Just hurry up and get dressed so we can go.”
With a roll of her violet eyes, she drops her towel and snatches her clothes from the bed to get ready for work. Ames has no shame when it comes to full nudity in front of me.
I could never be like that … with anyone.
My self-image takes a nosedive every time I look in a mirror and see the mousy, light brown hair I’ve let grow too long. The average face that is never brushed with makeup, and the baggy T-shirt and jeans I wear to hide the blemishes of my average figure.
Stereotypical and boring.
It should be tattooed across my forehead.
“Do you think your people will show up tonight?”
