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Asher who? Right now, I don’t care about him one bit. He doesn’t exist. Tonight on this dance floor, it’s just me and this fucking amazing music.
I dance some more until my legs start to feel tired and my throat feels dry. That’s my cue to get my second drink. I head to the bar, but as I make my way through the crowd, I bump into a wall.
A wall with blond hair and a bomber jacket.
Jake.
“Hey,” I say, though I’m not sure he can hear me. “I was just about to go to—”
“Let’s dance,” he says.
Then he grabs my wrist and pulls me back into the crowd.
What the hell? I try to pull my arm away but his grip stays firm. I try to shout at him to let me go but he doesn’t hear it. Either the music is too loud or he’s just pretending not to. At any rate, I can’t seem to escape, so I just tag along until he finally stops. He turns around, lets my hand go and starts to dance. I don’t.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I scold him with my hands on my hips.
“What’s wrong with you?” he throws the question back at me as he tries to grind against me. “Why aren’t you dancing?”
I smell the alcohol on his breath and grimace as I step back.
Don’t tell me he went on a drinking spree since I left him at the bar. Brandy, from the smell of it.
Not nice.
When he tries to rub his body against mine again, I push him away with enough force that he nearly stumbles back. Then I bolt. To my dismay, he grabs my elbow. I roll my eyes.
You have got to be kidding me.
My first time at a club in Chicago and I catch the attention of a drunken loser. Great. And I was having so much fun, too.
I try to shake his hand off but it’s no use. Should I just kick him in the balls?
I try the diplomatic route first. “Listen, Jake. If you don’t let me go right now, I’ll—”
“Let her go.”
In spite of the loud music gushing out of the speakers all over the club, I hear the deep, familiar voice. I turn my head and my heart stops.
Asher is standing there, the threat clearer in his narrowed onyx eyes than in his voice. His fingers wrap around Jake’s arm, which suddenly looks like it might snap in two.
Scary. I’ve seen Asher angry before, but never like this. He may seem perfectly calm, but I can feel the rage coming off him in waves. The destructive intent. The power. A lump forms in my throat and I swallow.
Jake, too, looks suddenly afraid. He lets me go, his hand shaking as he looks at Asher with wide eyes. As soon as Asher drops his arm, he runs off like a dog with its tail between its legs. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s heading to the bathroom before he pees in his pants.
Serves him right.
I turn to Asher, who’s still standing beside me. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he answers, the rage in his eyes gone.
In fact, he’s back to the Asher I know, though maybe more like the Asher I first met in the café back at Wharton. Cool. Casual. He’s wearing a denim shirt, rolled up to his elbows with the top three buttons undone, and a pair of darker jeans.
Hot.
He looks like he’s waiting for me to say something, but I struggle to come up with it.
I’ve already thanked him. What more do I say? What more does he want me to say?
“I’ll just go,” he says when the silence has gone on for too long.
He turns to leave.
“Wait.” The word just slips past my lips.
He turns back to face me. Like before, he waits, an expectant look in his eyes.
I draw a breath. “Let’s dance.”
I don’t know why I said that, especially when they’re the very words that disgusted me so much when Jake said them to me just moments ago. Besides, I was going to take a break from dancing. I’m supposed to be headed to the bar for a drink. Strangely, though, I suddenly no longer feel thirsty or tired.
For a moment, Asher just looks at me. I start to wonder if maybe he thinks I’ve gone mad. Then he starts to move, to dance. I begin to dance as well, but it’s not the same as what I was doing earlier. This time, I can barely feel my body move or hear the music. I can barely feel anything. Everything is a blur, like an image that’s still loading. Everything seems unreal.
I still can’t believe Asher is here. What is he doing here? I didn’t even peg him for the clubbing type, though I suppose clubs must be a good place for him to pick up women. But why here? Why tonight? Is he here every Saturday night? He doesn’t own this club, does he?
