“You want to dance?” Kostas stubbed his cigarette out and got up.
“Sure.” Anything was better than watching your soul mate cozy up to a sequined celebrity. It’s not like I didn’t already have the inner dialog going. You know the one. It makes you feel like everyone else is way ahead of you, more accomplished, more fun, more interesting, more with it. I didn’t need to measure myself up against Olympia Aravani. She had Nikos’s attention at the drop of her name. My name and I were forever quibbling over pronunciation.
The room whirled as I followed Kostas downstairs. I grabbed the railing and slid down the stairs. It struck me that the club’s moving walkways and hallways might actually be stationary, that I was the one zigzagging like a loose cannon in a pinball machine—an image that made me giggle uncontrollably. Apparently, I was really happy when I drank.
Kostas claimed some space for us on the dance floor. As if on cue, the bass dropped, the synthesizer kicked in, and the whole place exploded with lights and lasers. Swirls of acid green and hot pinks swept around us in psychedelic flashes.
Kostas scooped me up and started grinding against me, his hands on my butt cheeks. I was drunk, but I could still hear my internal alarm bells going off.
“Hey. Stop it.” I untangled myself from his clutches and teetered away.
I’d barely taken a few steps when Kostas grabbed my waist and started rubbing his junk against my backside.
Trapped in a pulsing, screaming nightmare of lights and sound and rough hands, panic rose in my throat. Bodies thronged around me, but nobody could hear me. And worse, nobody cared.
“Let her go, dickhead.” Someone gripped my wrist and pulled me away from Kostas.
“Mind your own business.” Kostas shoved the guy in the chest. “She was asking for it.”
“Touch her again and I’ll rip your face off.” Through the blinding strobes of white light, I caught glimpses of the other figure moving toward Kostas until they were nose to nose. Everything looked like it was happening in slow motion.
It wasn’t until he turned to face me that I realized it was Alex.
“Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand and started steering me through the crowd.
“Hey, asshole.” Kostas yanked him back and threw a punch. Alex ducked. The punch landed on someone else’s head.
“What the fuck?” The girl’s boyfriend launched himself at Kostas. They tumbled and landed on another group of dancers. More yelling and screaming. More fists getting involved.
Alex pulled me away from the circle of expanding chaos. “Where the hell is Nikos and why aren’t you with him?”
“He’s up there.” I pointed to the balconies overlooking the dance floor. “With Olympia Aravani.” I figured dropping her name would soften the smoldering expression on Alex’s face. I was wrong. All at once, I felt like shit. Cold sweat glistened over my lip and waves of heat coursed through my body. My body was starting to quiver with the aftershocks of alcohol, the sensory overload of lights and music, and my encounter with Kostas. Everything was going foggy.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I drop in to see Eleni whenever I’m in town.” He motioned to the pretty bartender behind the counter.
“A girl in every port, huh?”
“She’s my cousin.”
That made me feel worse. Like I’d just accused him of incest. “I’m so sorry,” I wailed. “I’m a horrible huban meing.” I slumped against him. Apparently, I was miserable when I drank.
“Let’s get you to Nikos, okay?” Alex started leading me toward the stairs.
The club was getting louder and rowdier. Someone flung a bottle into the crowd. It hit the wall and shattered into tiny shards. Security guards jumped in and started breaking up the brawl.
“Alex.” I paused halfway up the stairs. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
He stopped, and we stared at each other.
“I think…” My throat clenched, but I couldn’t stop the warm feeling rising in my chest. “I think…”
And then I puked all over Alex’s shoes.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, wiping the dribble off my mouth. My heart pounded loudly, echoing in my ears. I took a step back and thought,Oh, hell. Hell, no.
I’d always imagined fainting with Victorian-like delicacy, a lace handkerchief pressed to my forehead. Instead, I went down like a sack of turnips. Alex caught me, swearing through the inky space rapidly claiming my vision. Scooping me up, he made his way back down through the crowd. “Eleni! Let Nikos know I’m taking his date back to the yacht.”
