PROLOGUE
Clover
How was this happening again? Was I unlucky, jinxed, or was I being punished? It didn’t matter, whatever the reason, nothing was going to change it. I was almost seventeen but unfortunately due to my early autumn birthday, I was still deemed a child in so many ways, including education. I was completing my last year of schooling and next year had planned to explore college, but I had no clue what I wanted to do.
The future didn’t matter. I wasn’t even sure I had a future. At the moment, I just needed to forget and to feel something other than pain. Tonight, my mission was to hide from my misery and grief.
I didn’t go out much, certainly not alone, and never to places like this. Looking up at the dark walls and blacked out windows, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t bail before I got to the front of the line, one that was moving in fits and starts. I thought I could pass for over eighteen so long as none of the door security asked for ID. I didn’t have a huge number of friends or female influences withthe exception of my tutor, Zoe, but I watched make-up, hair, and fashion tutorials online and could often be found copying their ideas in my bedroom.
Tonight, with the awful news refusing to be disputed, I had gone to my room, played my music loud, dressed in a short, red dress that was very tight, grabbed one of the few pairs of heels I owned. My hair hung in loose curls, cascading down my back, my make-up was both youthful and on trend but understated so as to try and hide my age, and my only mission when I had snuck out of the house with my phone and some cash was to get into a bar in the closest town to the village where I lived.
Another rush of people got me almost to the door. I scanned through my phone, ignoring the messages from Zoe, checking in and asking if I wanted a drink or something to eat. She hadn’t realised I had gone yet. Another message came as I considered whether replying would be worse than ignoring her because with the latter I wasn’t lying. Reading it, I felt a little better,I’ll leave you alone, give you some time. That suited me fine.
More movement and I was at the head of the line. The man I came face to face with was huge and intimidating. I thought I’d stopped breathing as he studied me closely.
“Have you got–” His words were cut off as a scuffle broke out a few metres behind me. He went to intervene and I took my chance to enter.
I could have sworn the walls were bouncing from the sound of the music vibrating around the open space that contained a dancefloor split across two floors and several bars around the perimeter.
Reaching the bar, I considered what I wanted to drink. I wasn’t really a drinker, the occasional glass of wine over dinner if it was a special occasion was my limit. I glanced across their wine selection and didn’t recognise any. Maybe alcohol was a bad idea; I didn’t want to become melancholy, plus, I had neverbeen to a place like this before and suspected I might need to keep my wits about me. Running away and coming here could have been described as unwise, but I wasn’t going to be completely reckless.
“Lemonade please.”
The guy behind the bar looked suspicious.
Shit! Did anyone order soft drinks here? Was I drawing attention to myself and possibly flagging up my being underage? Maybe I was a recovering alcoholic. He didn’t know me or my story.
He smiled and set about preparing my drink.
Turning with my glass in my hand, I collided with someone, a small amount of my drink spilling on them.
I apologised profusely and as my eyes tracked up his body and landed on his face, I was stunned into silence. He was gorgeous. Older than me, by a fair bit, but so handsome with dark hair and eyes, eyes that initially appeared sad but as he smiled, they lit up with mischief and amusement.
He waved away my apology and smirked, the quirk of his full lips making him even more attractive.
Nervousness rushed through my veins as I desperately searched for something to say or do. Nothing was forthcoming.
“I like your dress,” he told me, clearly looking me up and down several times.
Still I said nothing. Instead, I raised the glass to my lips and began to drink quickly.
“Do you come here often?” He laughed at that question and although I didn’t join in with his laughter, I got the lame cliché of it.
“No. First time.”
He cocked his head and one eyebrow quirked as he seemed to consider me in all of my nervous, literal response while I wondered if my earlier silence had been the better option.
“A virgin.”
If I didn’t choke on my drink now as I wondered if he only meant in the sense of the bar. He leaned forward and patted my back. The heat at the contact he made caused me to leap back. Why was I behaving this way. Reacting in such an unusual and unknown way to another person? I could have been imagining it, but I felt certain he jumped away too.
I glanced down at the glass in my hand that was now half empty.
“Can I get you a top up?”
“No, thank you, sorry.” I scurried away to the furthest point from this man and entered the dancefloor, flustered, scared, embarrassed, and very, very attracted to the man from the bar. More than that though, I had forgotten about the sadness in my heart which I didn’t believe anyone could make me do.
Still feeling like a fish out of water, I focused on dancing, promising myself that it was one drink and some dancing, no more, and then I would go home and face the music if Zoe had discovered my absence, and probably confessing it if she hadn’t.
