The second my black stiletto heel stepped onto the top step, every single voice hushed. My gaze flicked to the group of guys, all standing around their bikes, with a beer in one hand, and some with a cigarette in the other.
“Damn, baby,” Nick called from down below and cat-call whistled at me. Ethanthwoppedhim on the back of the head.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” he growled.
Nick scowled at Ethan but kept his mouth shut while I tried to suppress a grin. There were ten guys in the crew but I really only knew Ethan, Nick, James, and Sebastian. The others didn’t work at the shop or stop by if it wasn’t a meeting night.
“Going out?” Ethan’s voice was low and growly as his eyes raked down my dress; his Adam's apple bobbed as he gave a hard swallow.
I smiled innocently, liking the effect my dress was having on him. Even though he was in a t-shirt and jeans, he had the same effect on me. Just looking as his huge tattooed biceps made me want to wrap my thighs around him.
I’d reached the base of the stairs. “Going dancing with Angela.”
He took a swig of his beer. “Need a ride?”
I shook my head. “We’re sharing an Uber.”
He nodded. “Need a chaperone?” A grin pulled at his lips and a few of his friends chuckled.
Now it was my turn to smile. I pretended to think about it. “Nah, I feel like being bad tonight. Chaperone might cramp my style.”
I’d never forget the fire that lit up his blue eyes, the way his nostrils flared and his lips puckered outward. His friends erupted into a chorus of “Ohhhhh,” and I walked right past him and outside to the waiting car.
I hadn’t meant to, but I was playing hard to get with Ethan, leading him on. I just hoped I was leading him somewhere I was capable of going. I guess we would see tonight. It was guinea pig night. Time to see just how fucked up single Hailey 2.0 was at dating.
The music wasloud and I was two stiff drinks in. Enough to feel good but not enough to be totally sloppy. I was grinding up on a hot guy and everything seemed to be going well. Except it wasn’t. The hot guy I was grinding on wasn’t Ethan. He wasn’t Bryce either, which was a nice change, but it was like my body was repelled by this beautiful man before me because it was wondering why the fuck we weren’t grinding on Ethan.
I. Needed. Therapy. NOW.What the hell was I doing? This was one of the stupid things that fucked up chicks did. They went out to see how broken they were so that they could hopefully be fixed for a new guy? What the hell was wrong with me? The guy’s hands had been respectfully on my lower back for the last three songs, but now they started to migrate down towards my ass.
But what if I went to kiss Ethan and something majorly wild happened to ruin it? I hadn’t kissed a nice guy in seven years.
“Kiss me!” I shouted into the dude’s ear, realizing now that two drinks were enough to make me sloppy. Because this was the stupidest thing I’d ever done.
He pulled his head back and desire flashed in his gaze. Boy was pretty. Pre-med at ASU with manicured eyebrows. I mean, he could be gay he was that pretty. I just wanted to pick someone opposite of Ethan and I ended up picking Bryce 2.0.
Fuck.
As he leaned in to kiss me, I braced for impact. My whole body froze and I winced.
This isn’t right—this isn’t how it should be—I’m not ready.
Before he could get to my lips, I panicked and took both of my palms, planting them on his chest and giving a big shove. He flew backward, eyes wide, and a few people turned to stare at us.
He looked at me incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I’m broken.
I burst from the dance floor mumbling an apology and over to the bar, where I ordered two shots of tequila. Tequila was my go-to if I wanted to erase parts of my memory and forget what it was like to feel pain. Tequila and I were frenemies.
I charged both shots to my newly-paid-off credit card just to spite Bryce, or myself, I couldn’t tell. Just as I was ordering a third, Angela came up behind me.
“Hey, you okay? I saw you push that dude.”
I tipped the bartender a hundred dollars on the credit card, and now I was sure I was just screwing myself over and not Bryce.
“I’m not ready,” I told Angela, and took back the third shot. It made a slow burn all the way down my throat.
Angela’s mouth made an O-shape as she dragged me from the bar to a quieter part of the club.
