Crazy Love (17 page)

“Hey!” Dashul scowled, shoving Violet out of the way and getting in Sam’s face. “What the hell is
that
supposed to mean?”

“Dude. You don’t want to come up against me. Walk away.” Sam’s deep voice was as cool as an ocean breeze. He inched forward, his unblinking eyes level with Dash’s. Guests on our side of the dance floor had stopped to watch the sparking altercation.

“Let’s go, Dash.” Violet’s voice was practically a whisper. Her large green eyes were on Trip’s. The hopeless romantic in me swooned as I witnessed the poorly disguised passion in both of their eyes. Trip gave her a gentle smile and mouthed ‘it’s okay.’ I could see that she was practically trembling as she pulled Dashul away to the far end of the dance floor.

Audibly exhaling, Sam turned to face us.

“Are you alright,” he asked me, all puffed up and macho, as if he might chase Dashul down if I said I had a hangnail. I huffed in amusement.

“Sure. It’s not the first time someone’s treated me like a lowlife slut.” I instantly wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers up over my head. It was an unintentional burn, and now I had no way to take it back. Sam winced as if I’d slapped him, and I watched his ego deflate like a balloon stabbed with an icepick. He turned away, and I allowed Trip to pull me back into his arms. My eyes never left Sam, and when he turned back to us, his flushed face telegraphed resolve.

“Can I cut in?” Stunned speechless by his boldness, I blinked at him in total disbelief. Trip shrugged, releasing me from his grasp. Sam and I just watched each other for a moment, and he suddenly looked as apprehensive as I felt. I saw Nosejob moving in our direction, but Trip deftly intercepted her, and before I had a chance to utter a syllable, he’d whisked her away toward a table filled with punch and hors d'oeuvres.

Sam approached me slowly, and then in one swift motion, he confidently pulled me into his arms. A small gasp escaped me as the full length of our bodies touched for the first time. Intense heat swept through me, and I fought to keep my breathing steady.

His eyes refused to release mine as he began to lead, somehow making me look like I actually knew how to dance. I helplessly searched those tempestuous eyes, completely ignoring my surroundings. He lowered his face toward mine, and I braced myself for the electrifying impact of his lips. I was severely disappointed when his mouth brushed my earlobe instead. I could feel his warm breath tickle my ear as he whispered.

“I meant it when I said I was sorry.” I closed my eyes, relishing the sensation of his closeness. Ashamed that he still thought I was angry about the stupid argument in my car, I shook my head and smiled. I found it hard to speak; I was so incredibly turned on by his mouth hovering near my skin.

Before I could reply, he pressed his forehead to mine. Breathless, I forced my eyes open and looked up into his. His features had such perfect symmetry I could have stared at him all night long. It felt like telepathy, the way he seemed to see into me. Something dark in him called out to something deep inside me, recognizing one of its own. He was so maddening…so infuriating-and so damn overwhelming! Yet somehow he was just so
comfortable
at the same time. All of these sensations were alien to me, and I wanted to bolt, but I knew nowhere would feel as right as in his arms. I closed my eyes, unable to stand the intensity of our connection for one second longer.

“I know.” It was lame, but it was all I could manage. We continued to dance in silence, trading frequent glances. The pensive expression he wore compelled me to break the tension. “I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

“I wish you were here with me.” His deep voice reverberated all around me, and my limbs felt like mush as I melted further into him.

I inhaled, greedy for oxygen. It’s hard to explain, but I felt like I could
breathe
again, as if I’d been holding my breath for a month. I’d felt his attraction to me since the day we met, but it still made me weak in the knees when he said it out loud. Hearing him say those words thrilled and terrified me in equal measure. I wanted so badly to lead him off to a dark corner and show him I felt the same. When I spoke, my voice almost cracked: “I know that, too.”

His lips lifted in a half smile. I had a wild urge to kiss him, needing to taste that taunting mouth of his. I felt my chest rising and falling a little too rapidly. He had to be aware of my strong attraction to him. His smoldering sky blue eyes held me prisoner, and I was about to tell him that Trip and I were just friends when the music stopped and everyone began to clap enthusiastically.

The singer nodded and bowed, all showmanship and flair. Then his voice boomed into the microphone. “And now, ladies and gentlemen: It’s my pleasure to introduce Armstrong Atlantic’s very own a cappella champions, Noteable!”

My eyes flew wide, and I stepped back from Sam, still holding his hand. “Shit! That’s Jayse!” I turned on my heel and dragged him with me toward the stage.

The lights dimmed and the crowd murmured in hushed tones as Annabelle pulled me along through the crowd. I was tempted to throw her over my shoulder and head for the nearest exit, but Trip would put a price on my head, and Mama would call it gauche in the best of circumstances. In seconds we were at the stage. A crowd filled in around us, and I offered my front row spot to a very short girl, who eagerly took it. As people jostled for a better view, I found myself pushed up against Annabelle’s back. My mouth watered when I noticed her second tattoo—the black rose – peeking out of the top of her dress. She glanced over her perfect shoulder at me, her delicate features clearly conflicted. I had to beat down the urge to wrap my arms around her and plant my lips on her gorgeous naked collarbone.

I wondered where Trip was and worried that he was pissed if he’d been watching us dance. I hadn’t been able to keep a platonic distance from Annabelle; hell, I’d nearly kissed her right there on the dance floor! I’d known my confession wouldn’t surprise her, but it felt good to finally come clean about my intentions. If she still chose to be with Trip, I wouldn’t look back one day and wonder if it was because I was too much of a coward to even enter the race.

A group of men took the stage and when the spotlights popped on, I spotted both Jayse and Dale near the center. They began to sing in six part harmony, slow and solemn, but the song quickly shifted into an upbeat, cheerful number. Jayse pranced forward to solo, mic in hand, and proceeded to throw himself into the number with all his flaming might. He worked the stage like it was Silly Putty, and the crowd around me seemed simultaneously riveted and unsure how to handle the situation. His impressive vocal skills were undeniable, but lyrically, the song sounded as though it were written for a woman, and some of the notes he hit could have shattered crystal. I couldn’t help but smile at his campy showmanship. I wished I could see Annabelle’s reaction to her friend, but her back was still to me.

As the song continued, I heard a loud whoop of support from ten feet away, and when I turned in that direction, I realized it had come from Violet. She grinned from ear to ear and saluted Jayse with a raised martini glass. As if she’d given them permission to admit they enjoyed him, several of the younger partiers joined in with whistles and enthusiasm. As I turned back to the stage, I saw that Annabelle had also turned to see who the upstart was. She put a hand to her lips, her eyes wide in disbelief. I shook my head at her and shrugged. She burst out laughing. I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder and then pulled it away, fighting my baser instincts yet again.

Jayse seemed to feed off the crowd’s growing energy and hammed it up even more, flying his freak flag for all of Savannah society. Marybeth Dutton cheered wildly in the front row a few feet to our left, and he pointed at her and then gyrated Elvis-style perilously close to her face. I covered my eyes with one hand, remembering that Mama knew he was an associate of mine. It should be noted that the fair Ms. Dutton didn’t seem to mind a bit.

When the song came to its dramatic conclusion, the crowd erupted with pockets of wild enthusiasm. Annie catcalled and cheered at the top of her lungs. Jayse bowed to the crowd with all the aplomb of an R & B diva.

Three short (much less entertaining) songs later, Noteable finished their set. All of the soloists were talented, but none of them had Jayse’s star quality and range. As they dismounted the stage, Annabelle and I fought counter current to the rest of the crowd, who made their way to the tables where dinner would be served. Trip and Jenny met us along the way, and Jenny snaked her arm through mine, leaning her head on my shoulder as if we were betrothed. Trip put his arm around Annabelle and whispered in her ear. Whatever he said must have been funny because she let loose with that laugh that was sure to haunt my dreams. I felt my night go from moderately promising to dismal in that one simple moment.

I had just noticed Jayse and Dale approaching when I saw Annabelle lift her skirt slightly and run into Jayse’s open arms. His permanently sassy expression softened as he somehow managed to receive her undignified flying hug with all the grace of Fred Astaire. Dale laughed as Jayse pretended she was too heavy and made like he was about to drop her. When he righted her, she slapped his arm in mock anger.

“Jayse, that was amazing,” she gushed as Trip moved forward to greet Dale with a fist bump that told me they knew each other well.

“Awe, shucks.” Jayse’s voice dripped sarcasm, but a hint of a smile betrayed his pleasure at her approval.

Trip proceeded to introduce me to Dale, explaining that Dale was a fellow artist. Dale told Trip that we’d already met earlier when Jayse saved me from ‘some tacky brutes.’ Trip cocked his eyebrow at me as if waiting for an explanation, but I simply waved it off. Through the conversation that followed, I came to understand that Trip and Annie had become friends at one of Dale’s gallery shows. All the while, Jenny kept stroking my arm like I was her pet tea-cup Chihuahua. I assume she was trying to be seductive, but frankly it was annoying. Violet approached our small group hesitantly. Dash was nowhere in sight, and she carried two martini glasses which contained some sort of orange elixir.

“Sam, I’m simply dying to meet your friend. Be a dear and help a sistah out?” she cooed as she approached Jayse. To his obvious shock, she handed him one of the martinis. He muttered a quick ‘thanks,’ and I used the moment as an excuse to untangle myself from the overly zealous Jenny.

“Jayse, this is Violet Beau—“ I began and then cut myself off. I realized I wasn’t sure what she was calling herself these days. I shifted my eyes sideways at her, wondering if I was about to wear her martini. Violet smiled at me sympathetically and jumped in.

“Violet Beaumont. Reg and I
used
to be married.” She offered in her sweet-as-honey voice, nodding to, while fixedly ignoring, Trip. Trip, who stood two feet from her, did his best to look unconcerned.

“Jayse Monroe.” He replied, grinning at her snarky remarks with unveiled admiration. She proceeded to take his arm and slowly herd him toward her dinner table. From the moment she’d opened her mouth, Jayse seemed drawn to Violet like a moth to a flame, and he ignored the fact that he was leaving the rest of us behind. His boyfriend seemed unsurprised as he continued his conversation with Trip. But Annabelle followed after them, a look of stunned petulance firmly in place. When Jayse took a seat at Vi’s table across Violet and Dash, Annabelle ended her pursuit and waited for Trip to catch up to her. They took their seats at our table, and I trailed behind with Dale. Apparently, Jenny had decided I wasn’t worth the effort and had thankfully disappeared without a trace.

“You like her, don’t you?” Dale asked, nodding in the direction of Annabelle. I froze for a moment, then deciding it was laughable to deny it, I nodded.

He nodded back at me, and I didn’t see any amusement on his freckled face as he continued to speak. “Annie’s a good egg, sweeter than she’ll ever let on. But she’s been through a lot. I’m worried about her and Trip hooking up. The way I see it, they’ll either help rebuild each other or rip one another’s progress to shreds.”

I had no idea what to say. I realized just how little I knew about Annabelle and felt foolish as hell. Like it or not, I felt like I
could
see her, see who she really was, past the posturing and the hard defensiveness. And I felt compelled, for whatever reason, to protect her, especially from Trip, though I believed he really had made commendable progress. I didn’t think I could stand by and watch Annabelle act as training wheels while he learned to get back on the bike.

As my tablemates engaged each other in lively conversation, I ate dinner in a silent fog trying to sort out just how much I was deluding myself. After a few minutes, I actually contemplated leaving town. I’d walked this path once before with Trip and Violet, and I just couldn’t force myself to lace up my hiking boots again. After my birthday, there was nothing stopping me from going anywhere I wanted to. Maybe I’d go buy a house in the Keys and have Randall oversee my Savannah project while I went deep sea fishing and drowned my sorrows in margaritas.