“Maybe it’s still going.”
“Hmm.” His chest hummed in response, and for a while, neither one of us said anything more. We stood there, staring at each other as something strange, unspoken, passed between us. I was locked in place, pinned like a butterfly in one of those displays, preserved forever.
There was something about this guy that was familiar, something that drew me in—and it wasn’t just the tattoos or that he was older. It was something else, something I couldn’t put my finger on just yet.
I should’ve walked away from him, let my curiosity be. Nothing good would come of this, and yet I couldn’t force myself to turn away from him. I was the one who broke the silence between us by asking, “So if you aren’t here to pick up a college girl or two, why are you here?”
He turned toward me, and unless I was mistaken, I swore he stepped closer to me, taking away those precious few inches that remained between us. He kept one hand on the railing to my left, and strange as it was, it was almost like he boxed me in. “Maybe I have a story to tell, too,” he offered, an unreadable look on his face.
“What story’s that?” For some reason, it was supremely hard for me to get that question out. Men never intimidated me, not really, but something about this guy did. The blackout tattoos. The thick head of silver hair on his head. Those pitch-black eyes that seemed to see straight through my soul.
“It’s not time yet,” he said, and he leaned down a bit more before he added, “patience is a virtue. Isn’t that what they say?I have the feeling you and I will see each other again.” He straightened himself out, about to pull himself away from me and, if I had to guess, leave.
But I replied quickly with: “Who are you?” The way he talked, it sounded as if I should’ve known him. He definitely didn’t fit here; if anything, he fit more in Lola’s criminal world than this college club.
Seriously, who was this guy?
All the man did was flash me a smile. On that square, stubble-ridden jaw, I spotted deep dimples. “Maybe next time we meet I’ll tell you my name.” Just the way he said it made it clear he assumed, for some reason, we’d see each other again.
He pushed himself away from me right when I asked him, “Why would we see each other again?”
“A city like this? Someone like you and someone like me are bound to meet again, don’t you think?” That’s all he said before he turned around and left, leaving me to ponder just what he meant by it.
Who the hell was that guy? My mind spun. The way he acted, how he spoke; he was very calculated. I definitely got criminal vibes off him, and yet there he was, leaving the club without starting any shit.
I watched as he walked down the stairs and headed for the exit. I couldn’t take my eyes off him at all, so when he reached the glass doors, I saw when he momentarily stopped, turned around, and met my gaze across the club. Through the flashing lights, I was pretty damn sure the man sent me a smile before he left, like he knew I’d be watching him. Like he knew me.
Again, who the hell was that guy and why did I feel so drawn to him?
I chugged the rest of my water, but I didn’t head down the stairs right away. I remained right where I was, thinking about that whole interaction and trying to figure out context clues. Notto be one of those girls who thought everything was about me, but it seemed fishy that we spoke, and right after that he left. It was like he was here for me, but that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?
Then I thought back to all those times I felt watched. At the concert. Between classes. Sometimes even downtown when I was with my guys. It was a sixth sense of mine lately, and up until now I thought I was losing it.
Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe that guy, whoever he was, was the one following me—but for what purpose? To get to my dad? No, it couldn’t be. A hot older man with a face like that, I would’ve seen him, would’ve remembered him.
It wasn’t the first time, but the feeling of going insane was back.
I left the balcony and tossed my empty cup, that inexplicable feeling in my gut only growing. I might not have known what the hell was going on, but I couldn’t stay here and party it up like everything was fine. I pulled out my phone and messaged Mike to see if he could come get me. While I waited, I hung near the bar, not bothering to rejoin Kelly and her friends. If Mike couldn’t get me, I’d contact Kieran or Fang. Out of the three of them, one of them had to be able to swing by and get me.
Thankfully, after a minute, Mike responded and said he could pick me up. I sent him the address of the club.
I braved the dancing crowd as I typed out a message to Kelly—I wouldn’t send it, but the music was so loud close to the speakers there was no way she’d hear a word I said. When I found her, I flashed her my phone screen and the message I typed out:Not feeling so good. Gonna have Mike pick me up.
As she read it, her lips drew into a pout and she acted like she was sad I was leaving, but the fact of the matter was—as it had been ever since I got out from that basement—she didn’t need me. She had other friends, she had a life. We might’ve beenroommates now, but that didn’t mean we hung out all the time. She’d be fine. She’d get over it. Someday, maybe, when things weren’t still weird with me, I’d go out with her again.
Kelly gave me a sweaty hug, and I was pretty sure she shouted a goodbye to me even though I couldn’t really hear her. I gave her a smile as she pulled away and returned to her group, and then I waved to the other girls before leaving.
Zigzagging through the people, I followed in the stranger’s footsteps. I exited the club and stepped out into the cool night air, and I couldn’t help it: I looked around, wondering if that stranger was still hanging nearby.
Eh, I didn’t see him. I only saw a short line of people waiting to get into the club and some small groups of people hanging around the entrance, smoking.
I waved a hand through the air. I never got into vaping or smoking. Even the kind with fruity scents bothered me; give me regular air, please and thank you. I moved away from the smokers and vapers, so I could stand in clean air while I waited for Mike to get me. Odds were he was coming from his place downtown, which meant it would be a little while.
That’s all right. I was warm enough that I could stand out here in this revealing dress and be fine, at least for a little while.
As I waited, I couldn’t shake the memory of that man. Whoever he was, he was so certain we’d see each other again. If he didn’t come to this club to hook up with a younger college girl, then why was he here? Why had he come at all?
Somehow, some way, I knew that man would haunt my thoughts until I saw him again, and there was nothing I could do about it. Trying not to think about him would only lead me to think about him more.
