We step onto the dance floor and then there’s nothing to say because talking would be impossible. I swear the music gets louder the longer we’re on the dance floor, our bodies writhing against each other. I twirl Jules and we laugh, the sounds drowned by the bass.
Even though no one comes near us, I can’t help feeling like I’m being watched. I don’t want to search for the eyes because with my luck, it’s going to be some guy at the bar rather than the one I want to be watching me. Sweat drips down my back and chest.
The lights are going up and down with the bass, bodies pressing against us and I’m not sure who is who. Jules and I keep a tight grip on each other. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at all the people pressing in around me.
“This is the most fun I’ve had in years,” I tell Jules. Green light flashes across her face as she smiles, and I see a hint of emotion in her eyes before the light changes again.
“I’m so happy to have you back,” she shouts. “Maybe you don’t notice it, but I see how distant you were with Josh. This,” she waves her hand over my body, “is the Vin I know. A total badass bitch who isn’t afraid to flirt with the bad boy.”
I wish I could articulate everything that was going on in my head over the last two years while I was with Josh. I’m not sure even I knew what was going on with me and while I recovered from my injury, somehow it felt easier to turn myself off. To not be the constantly positive ray of sunshine everyone knew.
I hug Jules because hugging her is easier than explaining myself.
“I have to pee.”
We dance our way off the dance floor and get in line for the restroom, which is ten girls deep.
“Oh god, my ears are ringing,” Jules laughs.
“Are we too old for this?”
“Speak for yourself, I can do this all night.” Leaning against me, she removes one pump and massages the ball of her foot, wincing lightly. “These heels are made from metal.” She slides the pump on as the line moves again and we’re finally inside the restroom.
We make quick work of our business and as we’re washing our hands, Jules makes friends with a group of girls who are out celebrating their college graduation from this past summer.
“Can you imagine that we were once that young and hopeful?” Jules hooks her arm through mine as she waves goodbye to the group.
“Now we’re old, jaded women,” I say.
We stop to order two bottles of water at the bar, and someone presses in against my side, trying to get attention from one of the bartenders.
“I’m so sorry.” I turn at the sound of the deep voice. The man who squeezed in next to me is looking directly at me, his face contrite. “I’d have better luck trying to get attention from a father who abandoned me than these bartenders.”
I can’t help being amused. “Is this a new way to flirt with women? Telling them all about your trauma?”
His smile is slow and sexy, and I wait for that flutter in my belly which tells me I’m either interested or creeped out. My body decides to stay silent on this topic, which I take to mean that he’s harmless—for now—but we’re definitely not interested.
“I’m a lawyer, I prefer to lay out all the fine print beforehand.”
“Sounds like it must be frustrating for you.”
He laughs, and it’s a nice sound. “Listen, do you two want to join my friends and me?” He looks over his shoulders towards where a group of guys are hanging out. They all have that trust fund look about them, which is rich coming from me, a trust fund nepo baby.
I turn to Jules. “What do you think?” Back when we used to hang out in clubs, we had a rule. Sometimes people—men—don’t accept no easily. Our rule was that if we ever got invited to hang out with a group of men, the other one would always come up with an excuse to get us out of it.
Jules is looking towards the dance floor, sipping on her water. She lowers her bottle, and her eyes shift to me and back to the dance floor. “I think you have about two seconds to get rid of him.”
“What—?”
A hand comes to rest on the middle of my back, below where the back of my dress starts, a thumb brushing over my skin. I take a breath and even in this crowded place with a mixture of sweat, cologne, and perfume, I can smell Roman.
“Everything okay?”
“This lawyer was asking us to hang out with him and his friends,” Jules explains. “I think he likes Lavinia. What do you think?”
She gives me a sweet as pie look as I glare at her for throwing me under the bus.
“I was promised a dance,” Roman says. His eyes never stray from mine, as if no one else exists.
