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“Is he gonna be the one?” she asks me in a hushed whisper, a giggle behind the words. “You can take him back to our room later if you want. I’ll go stay with Jean. But youhaveto call me if you need anything, okay? Don’t let him push you into anything—”
“I don’t know yet.” I keep my voice low, too, resisting the urge to glance back. “Maybe I’ll meet someone else at the club tonight. Who knows? I’m not ready to decide—”
Claire giggles again. “You’re notmarryinghim, silly. Just let loose and have fun. Besides—”
She lets out a squeak as Jean slides into the car next to her, his hand sliding up her thigh despite the fact that the rest of us arerighthere. I can see his fingertips dancing along the inside of it, just under the hem of her dress, and Claire’s already alcohol-flushed cheeks blush deeper.
Jean leans over, murmuring something in her ear, and she lets out another gasping squeal as he pulls her into his lap. Next to me, Brad is pouring champagne, handing me a flute as he nestles closer. I’m next to the door, and there’s precious little space. I can feel the heat of his broad body seeping into my skin, the lemony scent of his cologne filling the air as his hand lands on my leg, squeezing just above the knee.
“You’re gonna like this place we’re going to,” he tells me, draining his champagne flute and filling it again. “It’s the best club in Ibiza. There’s a whole light show—you’ve never seen anything like it. And plenty of spots to sneak off to.” His hand slides a little higher, and I glance over to see that Jean has Claire facing forward on his lap now, her hands on his shoulders as she squirms a little. My own face flushes as I realize that I’m pretty sure he has his hand up her skirt—that my best friend might be getting fingered right now in front of me. I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or aroused, and I suddenly, desperately want some air.
Brad’s fingers are making circles on my inner thigh, his voice droning on in my ear about what he considers to be the top five party spots in Ibiza, but I can’t take my eyes off of Claire and Jean. She’s kissing him, her knuckles almost white where she’s holding on to him, and as her hips move, I know for sure that I’m watching him get her off.
That could be me.I could put Brad’s hand up my skirt, and he’d do the same thing, if I wanted him to. I sit there frozen, feeling an insistent pulse between my thighs that makes me ache in ways I’ve never felt before, and I’m suddenly very certain that I’m going to sleep withsomeonetonight. I’m still not sure if it’s going to be Brad, but it very well might be.
Jean looks over Claire’s shoulder, breaking the kiss as she buries her face in his neck. His eyes lock with mine for just a moment—just long enough to see the smirk on his face as he realizes I’m watching. I see her hips shudder, see his other hand clamp around the back of her neck as he drags her mouth back to his—to stifle the sounds, I realize with a fresh wave of desire and embarrassment—and I realize she’s coming, just as the car rolls to a stop in front of the club.
We all pile out as the doors open, but Jean and Claire hang back. I get one glimpse of her sliding to her knees on the floor, her hands reaching for the front of his shorts, before he shuts the door, and the wave of my newfound “friends” carries me inside the club.
“I’ll get us drinks!” Brad’s voice carries over the noise, as I glance back towards the entrance.
“I should wait for Claire—” I bite my lip nervously, feeling suddenly thrown off. I hadn’t expected her to not be here with me the whole way—there’s no one here that I know as well as her, not even the few other friends from our Chicago group who came along. The club feels huge and a little scary, and I take a deep breath, trying not to be upset with her for leaving me like this.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be back in no time.” Brad grins at me. “I bet Jean won’t take long to get his dick sucked. Comeon, Lia. I’ll buy you whatever you want to drink.”
“It’s Amalie.” I glare at him, emphasizing it, but from the look on his face as he draws me towards the bar, I don’t think it sank in.
He was right about one thing. I barely have my drink in my hand—some kind of sugary, fruity concoction—when I see Claire making her way towards me. She’s dabbing at the corner of her mouth with one hand, and she grabs me the moment she’s within reaching distance.
“Come with me to the ladies’,” she says, peeling me away from Brad, who looks more than a little miffed. I follow gladly, drink still clutched in my hand. Claire shuts the door behind her as soon as we’re inside the luxuriously appointed ladies’ room.
“Sorry about that,” she murmurs breathlessly, looking in the mirror as she takes her lipstick out of the small clutch she’s holding. “Jean likes to watch and be watched—it gets him off, you know? He was feeling a little frisky. I didn’t want to leave him hanging.”
“It’s fine.” I laugh tightly. “If anything, I’m a little jealous.”
“Well, that’s why we’ve got to find you someone!” Claire grabs my hand as we head back out of the bathroom, towards the bar and dance floor. “Someone who’ll do all the crazy things you can imagine this week, where everything stays here and nothing matters.” She grabs a glass from a passing shot tray, downing it and dropping the glass on a nearby table. “Come on!”
Claire loves dancing. We’ve ended up at concerts and clubs more than anywhere else when she’s convinced me to sneak out with her back home, and Ibiza is no different—just a more frenetic pace and more freely flowing vice. The crush of bodies on the dance floor is warm and pulsing, and Claire and I lose ourselves in the middle of it. The heat flows through me, making my dress cling to my skin and my hair stick to the side of my neck, a cloying feeling that I find strangely exhilarating. Claire spins around, gyrating against me as she flings her head back against my shoulder, her blond bob tickling my neck as I look around the seething dance floor.
Who am I going to pick?Brad is seeming less and less like the option I want to go with, but he’s been monopolizing so much of my attention that I haven’t really noticed anyone else. As Claire and I break away from the dancers, going in search of some water for her, I scan the bar, my pulse beating a little faster in my throat as I consider the possibilities.
And then I seehim.
At the end of the bar, surrounded by three, no,fourother women, is a man more breathtakingly gorgeous than anyone I think I’ve ever laid eyes on. In a club full of men in shorts and t-shirts and tank tops, half of them shirtless already in the thickly hot air, this man is wearing suit trousers and a button-down with the top two undone, his sleeves rolled up to showcase muscled forearms darkly inked with tattoos that I notice from all the way down the bar. He has thick, swept-back dark hair, a sharp jaw, and chiseled cheekbones, and even though I can’t see the color of his eyes, I’m willing to bet they’re every bit as gorgeous as he is.
“Claire.” I tug on her arm and gesture to the man. “Do you know who he is?”
Claire peers forward, a little unsteady on her heels, and shakes her head. “I don’t knoweveryonein Ibiza, Amalie,” she says teasingly. “Now comeon. I need water, and Brad and Jean—”
But I’m not listening any longer. Something went through me when I saw him, like an electric jolt down to my toes, and I’ve forgotten about Brad. I’ve forgotten about anyone else I’ve met since I’ve been here.
I shake off Claire’s hand, and I start to walk to the end of the bar, with only one thought in my head.
I need to meet him.
2
DAVID
