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EMMA
It was the first night I’d left the house since my breakup with Nathan, and all I wanted to do was go home.
“Comeon,” Cora said, as she grabbed my hand and pulled me down the dark, wet alley. “I’ve never seen anyone walk so slow.”
“I’m not in the mood for dancing,” I protested, but Cora wasn’t going to accept my excuses.
“This is a great club. Just stay for a few drinks,” she said, and tightened her grip on my fingers. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
I relented and followed her. Sydney’s weather echoed my mood. It was winter, and rain drizzled around us, leaving a cold wet film on my skin. At the very least, the nightclub would be warm and dry.
Music pumped somewhere underground and Cora led me to a door where a burly security guard stood with his arms crossed. He looked us up and down as though he was considering whether to card us, but when Cora flashed him a smile, he stepped aside.
The music grew louder as we descended the stairs, stepping carefully in our heels. The club was packed, full of twenty-somethings who drank and danced while waving their arms with the pulse of the beat.
My chest tightened.
I waswayout of my comfort zone. Even though I was a similar age to most of the dancers, I felt a thousand years old.
“Want a drink?” Cora shouted, and I peered uncertainly at the display of spirits behind the bar. None of the bottles looked familiar. Nathan hadn’t liked me going out at night, so I rarely did while we were together, and usually stuck to wine.
“Whatever you’re having,” I said, and hung back as Cora pushed her way between sweaty shoulders to get to the bar. The dancers moved like one living organism as pink and blue strobe lights swung over them. For a second, I caught a glimpse of Nathan’s dark hair and strong arms, but I blinked and the illusion disappeared. The man I’d seen looked nothing like him — he was short and wiry, with bad posture and a far-off gaze that told me he’d had too much to drink.
“I thought I saw Nathan,” I yelled into Cora’s ear as she passed me a plastic cup full of red liquid. The thickness of her eye makeup amplified her disapproving stare.
“I told you not to think about him tonight,” she said. “Dance, have fun, meet other guys. I’m sick of seeing you sulk at home every day.”
“Half an hour,” I said, knowing better than to say no. Since I’d moved in with Cora, I’d been so miserable I’d barely left the couch. I’d canceled most of my volunteer work appointments so I could drown myself in chocolate ice cream and lovesick songs.
The fifteenth time I’d played Celine Dion’sMy Heart Will Go On, Cora marched into my room, emerged with a dress and a pair of heels, and threw them at me.
“Put these on,” she’d ordered, with the tone of someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “We’re going out.”
We danced for a while, and after a few songs had played, Cora leaned over to shout in my ear: “That guy over there is checking you out!”
I rolled my eyes. Cora saw all male attention as sexual — hell, she probably thought the security guard was checking us out when we walked in. But when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw she was right.
I wasn’t ready to date. I wasn’t even ready tothinkabout dating. But having a tall, dark, handsome man’s eyes meet mine was more flattering than I expected.
“I’m not sure…” I said, and now it was Cora’s turn to roll her eyes.
“Yes you are. Like I said, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” She gave the small of my back a light shove as the man approached us.
“You’ve got great moves,” he said, in a deep voice that made me like him even more. “I’m Ryder.”
“Emma,” I said, and sipped my drink through its straw. I’d finished the vodka cranberry itself, but I managed to suck up some water from the melting ice cubes.
“Want another one?” he asked, gesturing at my glass.
I glanced at Cora and she gave me an encouraging smile.
“Thanks,” I said, and when I opened my purse to pull out some money, Ryder shook his head and stepped away.
“I’ve got it.”
I watched him disappear through the crowd.
