“Look, man. When I said I’d protect Andi, that’s what I meant. But I wasn’t trying to warn you off her if you’re interested in her, like, for more than just a piece of ass.”
I’m not even sure how to respond because I don’t know what I want from her. I just met her, and I can’t promise it’ll last beyond one night.
Shane continues. “I heard before I even got to the gym that you and Andi seemed to be into each other. If that’s true, Ihave to tell you—you’re royally fucking this up. Ignoring her, flirting with her friend, then with that other girl. Andi’s planning to take some stranger home with her tonight. She’s never done that, Luke. Make up your mind about her, but don’t screw her over.”
The thought of her going home with some other guy tears me up because I know I want her. I’m just not the kind of man who wants a relationship. As much as I don’t want to say it, the words tumble out before I can catch them. “She’s grown, man. If that’s what she wants, I say she should go for it.”
Shane gives me a disappointed look and, shaking his head in disbelief, says, “Your loss, man. Your loss.”
He walks back to the table, then leads one of Andi’s friends to the dance floor. I scan the area, but I don’t see Andi anywhere, and my heart pounds. At this very moment, I know without a doubt that she’s already left with someone else. Her one-night stand.
The anger hits me hard, and I decide that’s exactly what I need, too. A night of meaningless sex with a meaningless person whose name and face I will forget by tomorrow night. As I round the bar, the girl who was mauling me just a few minutes earlier steps into my line of sight, and I make my way to her. I grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor withoutasking.
The DJ is playing another slow song, so I pull the girl in close, closer than I should. Her arms wind around my neck, and she presses into me as if she already knows how the night will end. I let my hands rest at her waist, my jaw tight, my mind elsewhere.
She kisses me, bold and careless, and I let it go on for half a second too long. She lets out a little moan, and I know she’s more than ready to go. I grab her hand, ready to pull her to the door, when I take a step and realize Andi is standing in front of me.
From the look on her face, I know she saw the whole thing. Her mouth is slightly open, as if she just sucked in a startled breath and is still holding it, and her face is pale. The anger hasn’t even hit her yet—only the shock. I catch movement over Andi’s shoulder and glance to see Shane watching me, the nameless girl, and Andi. I’m suddenly keenly aware that Andi didn’t leave with anyone. She was probably just in the bathroom, and I overreacted again.
Andi squares her shoulders, steels her spine, and quickly collects her wits. Her emotions are stamped down as she pulls a hard mask over her beautiful face. My only coherent thought is, “What have I just done?”
I drop the girl’s hand and ignore her protests as I slowly walk away, following the direction Andi just went. She’s back at the table with the other girls. When I sit, I realizethe nameless girl has followed me and plops down on my lap because there aren’t any open chairs at our table. Andi looks over, sees the girl in my lap, and our eyes meet. She looks hurt at first… then really, really mad. She gets up and heads toward the dance floor, but keeps going past it.
Suddenly, Andi’s on stage, standing in front of the microphone. The DJ is queuing up the music for her. When it starts, I immediately recognize the song. She puts on a good show, but there’s no doubt who this song is dedicated to. The song is “Stupid Girls” by Pink. She blatantly sings the bridge, the part about how vain they are, directly to the stupid girl sitting in my lap.
I watch in awe as Andi drops to her knees on stage, her back arched so her chest juts out, her profile facing the audience. She looks so sexy. It’s at the part where Pink speaks seductively during the song. When Andi starts this part, she flips her hair back in an exaggerated way.
Then she runs her hands up her stomach to just under her breasts and pushes them up toward her chin as she looks over her shoulder at me. She nimbly jumps back to her feet and finishes the song. The DJ is clearly impressed with her talent, as is the rest of the club, judging by the catcalls and whistles.
The DJ calls out to the audience, “What do you guys say? Do we want Andi to do one more song for us?” The drunkand disorderly crowd goes wild, and the DJ looks at Andi. “You heard ‘em, girl, now sing it for us,” he says, and he starts the music to “Buttons” by the Pussycat Dolls.
Perfect. For the next several minutes, I have to sit here and watch her move her body in every suggestive and tempting way imaginable as other guys’ hands try to touch her. She is definitely putting on a good show.
A bouncer grabs one guy who tries to climb onstage after she sings an especially enticing part of the song that essentially says she can’t get the guy to help her take her clothes off. Andi’s running her hands up and down her torso in the most seductive show performed outside a strip club. Every man in here is revved up—all for her.
Andi finally leaves the stage, and I see several gawkers lined up, waiting for her attention as she maneuvers through the crowd on the dance floor. She doesn’t stop for any of them, but she gives them her warm smile as she keeps walking, including the guy she was dancing with earlier. I push the nameless girl off my lap and get rid of her, not so nicely. She’s already found someone else’s lap to sit in. Fine by me—maybe I can convince Andi that I’m not a complete moron.
Over the next hour, I watch Andi order shot after shot, dance with the girls and a few guys who try to cut in. She keeps going until she’s barely able to stand on her own.Even drunk, she ignores me when I try to talk to her. I think she’s trying to get to the point where she’d let some random guy take her home.
Even if she were falling-down drunk, I still don’t think she has it in her to go through with it.
And that gives me far more satisfaction than it should.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANDI
The little pinpricks of sunlight streaming through my closed blinds are causing me serious pain. If I could remove my head and put it in a vice, I think I would feel much better, because I swear it’s about to split in two on its own. I think I must have passed out before I had to experience the spinning rooms or the puking that always follows the spinning.
I’m not sure, though, because I can’t remember getting home.
Or getting undressed and into my bed.
Or to whom the hair sticking out of the covers belongs.
What have I done?
I need to get to my bathroom, take some ibuprofen, and drink some water. I should’ve done that before going to bed last night. But given how I feel this morning, I’m positive I didn’t. I don’t even know who’s in my bed with me, but I can tell I’m not wearing any clothes. This is not good. I look around the bed and the floor beside me until I find a shirt.
