That word and the mere memory ofhimguts me, and I'm stunned in place, unable to respond or react.
I'm not drunk enough for this shit.
Before I know it, Mister Mysterious begins speaking while still staring at me curiously, but he isn’t talking to me at all. He's talking to the bartender.
"I'll have another water, and the lady here will have..." I don't respond. "She looks like a vodka-tonic kind of girl." He pats the bar, and the bartender walks away.
Our eyes stay locked, as if we’re in some sort of silent battle. We don't speak. My mind isn't here at all; it's off in a different time before my life turned into what it is now. It's stuck in a time withhim.I remember our friendship that turned into the only love I've ever known.
A love that I never wanted, one I never thought I was capable of. Jett showed me otherwise in the way he blew down all of my defenses and managed to capture my heart and mark his imprint on it.
Thanks to Chad, I’m well aware of what trusting a man with your heart can do. He showed me the ugly side of it all and the tormenting pain that’s possible. Whereas Jett managed to show me the beauty. Still, there’s that tiny sliver of chance that it can all go to shit. A chance that, for the sake of my heart, I can’t risk.It’s the reason I ultimately pushed Jett away and couldn’t allow him in any further.
Now, I get what I want, and only what I want. Nothing more, nothing less.
Pulling me from my overwhelming thoughts, the bartender returns and places the drink beside me. Without hesitation, I grab it and chuck the liquid into the stranger's face.
His face morphs into amusement, not anger.
Breaking eye contact, my eyes flash to the bartender.
"Fuck you and your vodka," I spit out, looking back to the stranger as he wipes his face, still not angry. Without a word and a soft smile of confusion stretched across his face, he simply walks away and disappears into the crowd.
I turn to the bartender. "Chris, you know I don't drink that shit. Why would you even fix it?"
His laugh bellows from behind the bar. "I was wondering how far you'd let this one go. Another whiskey sour, Iz?"
"Yep, and keep them coming! I'll need it after this shit!"
Three hours later, and I can barely feel my brain. Are brains even felt?
Whatever.
The club's music and flashing lights pulses through my veins, running in a stream alongside the liquor. The DJ makes an announcement that he's changing things up, and the packed club goes wild when a remix to 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails comes blaring through the speakers.
Yes, that's my cue!
As usual, I lock my eyes with Chris across the bar, and he nods, giving me the green light like he always does.
Hannah comes running, phone in hand, knowing exactly what to expect as I hop onto the bar counter. As soon as the beat drops, I rip off my nearly see-through white button-down shirt, sending the buttons flying. I'm left in my pink corset-style bra, black mini-skirt, and high heels. The guys sitting around the bar are going wild as others from the dance floor come running to crowd around.
Welcome to the show, boys.
I begin swaying, tracing my hands up and down my body, letting the music take me over. Like they always do, some of them touch, and I kick their hands off. I even stomp my heel into one of their hands, and you can tell the perv enjoys it a little too much, biting down on his bottom lip.
Spinning and bending down, giving them all a little more of a show, ass in the air, I come face to face with the sky-blue eyes from earlier.
Something about the way he’s looking at me feels all too familiar. I falter momentarily, and then everything goes black.
I hear screaming, then Hannah and Chris' voices, but I don't budge. My eyes won't open.
I just want to sleep.
Chapter nineteen
Maverick
April 2019
