Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (41 page)

I wrinkle my nose. “Ew. Okay. Let’s go.”

We cram into my little car, and Eryk immediately starts playing with the radio.

“You have to give me directions,” I remind him.

“Chill. I will.”

Parking is hard to find, even on a Wednesday night. We end up in a parking garage a good quarter mile from the club. My heart ferociously pounds while we head down the street, trying to beat its way up and out of my throat.

“I texted Brendan,” I say. “And told him to meet us out front.”

“‘Kay,” Eryk says.

Crystal shoots me a reassuring smile. We’re getting closer to the club where Brian works a few nights a week cage dancing. A short line of people spills from the front door, and several stragglers hang out on the sidewalk, talking on the phone or smoking cigarettes.

My breath hitches when I catch sight of a familiar figure. Standing near the curb, he’s got his hands in his pockets. The old ball cap that was always glued to his head is nowhere to be found. Instead, his dark brown hair shines under the street light. It’s longer than I remember, curling at the nape of his neck.

My legs wobble slightly as we get closer to Brendan. When we’re a few yards away, he looks over and sees the three of us. His face breaks into a smile, the sight of it instantly taking me back years and pulling me over a thousand miles east.

“Hey.”

His hug envelops me. Though his hair is different, his scent is the same, reminding me of high school bonfires on the beach and countless nights spent hanging out in my parents’ basement. One of the best things about Brendan was he put up with my fascination with New Wave films. He’d sit next to me, nursing a beer for hours while we watched DVDs he never would have touched on his own.

Is that love? I don’t really know. I don’t have much else to compare it to.

“Hi,” I say into his neck, before stepping back to put a few feet between us. “How was your flight?”

“Good. Long, but good.”

I can barely hear what he’s saying. I’m too busy studying his face. He looks so much older than he did a year ago, but in a good way. Lee was right about him filling out. His shoulders are strong and hard. His face, though, is more chiseled. He’s a grown up now.

What’s happened to him over the last twelve months? We haven’t kept in touch. Does he have a girlfriend now? Is he still living with his parents, helping to take care of his younger sister?

“These are my roommates,” I say, remembering myself. “Crystal and Eryk.”

The three of them say their hellos, and I try not to stare at Brendan too hard.

“Wow, you’re really tall,” Brendan says to Eryk.

“Yep.” He turns and heads for the club without another word. I shoot Crystal a look, wondering why Eryk is being a dick. She shrugs and follows behind him.

Brendan hangs back, and we start to slowly amble towards the line together.

“Do you come here a lot?” he asks.

“I’ve actually never been here. Eryk’s new boyfriend works here.”

“Cool.” He nods and shoves his hands into his pockets. We stand next to each other in the line. I don’t know what to do with my hands
or
my eyes, so I stare down at my fingers while I twiddle them around.

“You look good,” he says.

“Yeah?” I glance up at his big brown eyes, one more attribute of his that hasn’t changed at all.

He nods and continues to gaze at me. Feeling awkward, I shuffle my feet and press forward in the line. Crystal and Eryk are standing right in front of us, and I know beyond a doubt they’re eavesdropping on my conversation.

“So what’s new in good ole’ Manteo?”

He grins. “Not much.”

“I talked to Lee last week. She told me about your new job.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” He scratches the back of his head.

“They don’t mind that you’re taking off for the summer?”

“Nah. They have a couple high school kids helping out. They don’t really need anyone full-time again till September.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“People ask me about you all the time.”

I laugh. “Lee said the same thing. I mean, she said people ask
her
about me a lot.” I stare at the back of Crystal’s head. “I don’t know why.”

“Not a lot of people from our class actually moved away.”

I crinkle my nose. “That’s not true. Sandy moved to New York, and Justin Finn went to Charleston. And what about what’s his name… Donnie? Didn’t he move to Vancouver?”

“Toronto. Sandy came back a few months ago.”

“Oh.”

“But you haven’t.” He smiles at me.

I bite back my own grin. Crystal and Eryk are at the bouncer flashing their IDs, and I fish in my pocket for my own. We show our cards and then follow my two roommates through the dark doorway. The short hallway takes a twist and then we’re facing the main part of the club. Blue and green lights flash, the bass thrums. Eryk pushes his way through the crowd, parting it like the Red Sea. We stick close to him.

The bar is packed end to end. Eryk shimmies down to the closest part of it and waves at one of the bartenders, but it doesn’t do much good. He huffs and leans against the bar, waiting for his turn.

The DJ’s booth is on a platform on the far wall, and on both sides of the mixing table, a cage is suspended from the ceiling. In one dances Brian, wearing nothing but what appears to be a speedo. The other dancer is his female counterpart, with long brown hair and a black bikini barely covering her curves.

Brendan brushes against my shoulder and I smile over at him. “What do you think?”

“Huh?”

I put my mouth close to his ear and repeat the question. A little tingle goes down my spine at having my mouth so close to him. It reminds me of too many moments to count — moments I didn’t even appreciate when they were happening — but that I now suddenly find I miss.

“It’s fun!” he answers.

Eryk has managed to get the attention of one of the bartenders. “What do you want?” he yells at the three of us.

“Gin and tonic,” I say.

“Same,” Crystal responds.

“Bud,” answers Brendan.

Eryk doesn’t even try to hide the look of disgust. I can practically read his thoughts. He probably thinks only hillbillies drink Budweiser.

I’ll have to remember to punch him in the face later. I don’t know why he’s being so rude, but the least he could do is try and pretend he’s in a good mood.

“There’s a table free,” Crystal says, pointing to a spot near us. We hurry over and snatch up the available seats before anyone else can.

“So, where’s Eryk’s boyfriend?” Brendan asks.

Crystal smirks and nods over his shoulder. “In the birdcage.”

Brendan stares for a long minute as Brian raises his arms above his head and shakes his hips, looking like he’s having the time of his life. “Wow,” Brendan finally says, turning back to us. “He, uh, he has nice glutes.”

I laugh out loud, pressing my hand against my mouth. Brendan wasn’t even joking, and that’s what makes his comment so funny.

Crystal is watching me. She’s the goddess at keeping it cool, though, and who knows what her impression of Brendan is. At least she doesn’t seem to think he’s some backwoods hick because I’m pretty sure that’s the title Eryk has already given my ex-boyfriend.

Eryk arrives with our drinks precariously teetering between his fingers. He sets them on the table in front of us.

“Thanks, man,” Brendan says.

“I’m going to say hi to Brian. He’s about to take a break.” Eryk slips away to the dance floor, his head bouncing above the crowd.

Crystal sips her drink and smiles weakly at us before leaning closer to speak. “Do you guys want to dance?”

I bristle at the very word and sneak a glance at Brendan, pretty sure about what his reaction will be.

“Nah.” He waves his hand. “I can’t dance.”

Crystal laughs and stands up. “That’s what Sydney always says. I see a hottie over there. Be back soon.” She grabs her drink and winks.

The song changes, the DJ doing a bad job of blending the two beats together. I take a gulp of my drink, letting it wash away some of the unease.

Brendan looks about as at home as I feel. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, glancing first over one shoulder and then the other at the people around us.

“So,” I say. “Nothing like this in Manteo, huh?”

He shakes his head and just looks over the crowd. A girl in stilettos stumbles back and bumps into Brendan’s chair. Half of her bright red martini sloshes onto the floor.

“Sorry!” she sings before teetering away, laughing with each drunken step.

I grimace. Brendan has got to be hating this.

Leaning closer to him so I don’t have to shout too much to be heard, I say, “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being here. I wouldn’t have come here if it had been my choice. I know this isn’t your scene.”

He looks at me for a moment. “Isn’t it your choice?”

“Um, yeah. I mean, I guess. It’s just, Eryk likes to go out to clubs, and I promised him I’d come here at least once. He really likes it, so he thought I would too.”

“Do you?”

I lean back in my seat and shake my head. Brendan laughs.

A few yards away, Crystal dances with a Latino guy. She seems to be having a decent amount of fun, and I wish I could say the same for myself and Brendan. I’m an awful hostess.

“Do you want to leave?” he shouts into my ear. Somehow, the music has only gotten louder.

“Yes,” I automatically say. “One second.”

Grabbing my phone, I start a group text telling Eryk and Crystal the two of us are heading out, and they should call when they’re ready to leave.

“Come on,” I say.

Brendan grabs my hand, taking me by surprise. I have the unexpected urge to jerk it away, but I don’t. Instead, I let him lead me across the floor and out of the club, our still full drinks left behind on the cocktail table.

On the sidewalk, the warm air wraps around me like a comforting blanket. With the heat and Brendan’s presence, the only thing missing is the stifling humidity of a North Carolina summer.

“What’s around here?” Brendan asks.

“Hm.” I purse my lips and look up and down the street. I kind of have my whereabouts, but also don’t know too much about the street we’re on. “I think there’s an all-night coffee shop nearby.”

“Do they have cage dancing?”

I pout out my lower lip. “I don’t think so. Sorry.”

“Damn it.”

I laugh and lead the way, glad I opted for dressing down. The one night of heels and a skirt last week was enough to last me a few months.

The coffee shop is where I thought, nestled between an Ethiopian restaurant and a place that appears to sell lamp shades and fish tanks. Its tables are full of young people on laptops. They aggressively type away, headphones on and latte cups half-empty.

There’s an available table right by the window, and I settle down into it.

“Coffee?” Brendan asks.

“Yeah, thanks.”

I watch him go. He didn’t ask how I take it, and that’s because he already knows. I lean back in the chair and keep my eye on him as he goes up to the counter. I never realized how much I miss having someone in my life who knows me so well. My roommates know a lot about me, of course, more than most people do. And I got to know a few other friends really well during our years at UCLA, but it feels radically different with a boyfriend.

The barista hands Brendan two red mugs, and I snap my head towards the window, not wanting to get caught watching him. The stoplight down the street changes and a steady stream of headlights comes my way, each set of them striking the window glass near me for a split second.

“Here you go,” Brendan says when he arrives. He sets the steaming coffees down and takes a seat in the cushioned chair across from me. He sighs and looks around the place. “This is nicer.”

“Yeah. I agree. Sorry again.”

“It’s all cool. It was nice for a few minutes.”

“Just a few minutes?”

He shrugs, a smile playing on the side of his mouth.

I take my coffee and blow on it simply for the sake of having something to do. If left to their own devices, my hands will either twirl my hair or break something.

“How’s your new job?” he asks.

I glance at him over the cup’s ceramic rim. “It’s good.”

What do I say? The topic of my current job will always be a tricky one. It’s best to just say nothing at all and let the issue slide.

“Why did you come here for the summer?” I ask a second later and bite my tongue. Was that too aggressive of a question?

“You remember Kyle?”

“Yeah. He’s always lived out here. But I thought you guys weren’t close.”

Brendan shrugs. “We didn’t used to be. But he came home last Christmas and, I don’t know… we kind of bonded, I guess. He invited me out for the summer. His roommate is an actor and out doing a play in Michigan or something till August.”

I take a sip of coffee. It nearly scalds my tongue, but it’s good. I’ll take drinking coffee at ten o’clock at night any time over liquor.

“This reminds me of Devin’s,” he says.

I laugh out loud. “But that was so different!”

Devin’s is the kitschy little coffee shop we hung out at in high school. With walls full of paintings of seashells, ocean view sunsets, and cats the owner painted herself, the place’s taste in art was gag worthy.

“A lot of old people go there,” I point out, then flick my eyes over at the nearest table, where what looks like a study group pours over giant textbooks.

“Yeah, I know,” he slowly says, rubbing his palms together. “I guess I only said that because I’m with you. That’s all. It just brought it back.”

“Do you still go there?”

“Sometimes.”

“What’s it like?”

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s basically the same. I think they still haven’t sold even one painting. The only thing different about that place is you’re not there.”

I bite my tongue and look down, resisting the urge to ask if he goes there with another girl.

Brendan licks his lips, looking thoughtful. “So how are you?”

My pulse quickens. Something about the way he posed the question makes it anything but casual.

“Good,” I answer, meeting his eye.