Feel (32 page)

“Just ignore him.  He can be such an asshole,” Jess encourages, her eyes searching me cautiously. 

Relief that he’s gone comforts and refreshes me with the knowledge that I am still sane, despite my momentary lapse.  The unwelcome new sensations overtaking my body aren’t so quick to reassure me. 

  Jess takes my water, giving me a disapproving look.  “Now, that’s enough of that bland shit.  You need something stronger.” 

Handing me one of her mystery drinks, I take a small sip first, having learned my lesson about her creations the day I met her, which was a mere two days after I moved to Boston.  I’m her taste tester.  She believes that my virgin palette, as she calls it, provides better judgment; she seems to pay no attention that my palette is no longer a virgin.  All of her ‘experiments’ are delicious, but this fruity concoction is one of the best I’ve tasted.  I still sip slowly, knowing she’s heavier on the alcohol than the flavor. 

As I take my next sip, Jess nudges me and nods at the man I’m leaning heavily towards disliking at the moment, “He’s really not so bad, once you get to know him.”

“You just called him a butt.”

Smirking at my watered down version of her terminology, she laughs, “No.  I said that he
can
be an asshole.  Don’t let him fool you, he’s the one acting.”  She nudges me again, giving a sympathetic smile.

“Like I said before, I have no desire to get to know him.  Besides, looks like too many have already known him.”  I loathe myself for stealing another glance his way, my jaw dropping slightly when the redhead slides her hand down his chest, to his waist, before graciously stepping in front of him as her hand goes even lower.  I want to look away, but the fiery expression in Breck’s eyes seizes me, holding me prisoner, and now I know that I dislike him.

The heat of his penetrating gaze flames my cheeks as he looks over the wanton woman’s shoulder, staring straight at me while he grabs her hand, slowly moving it away from coveted territory. 

“If you want to go with me, then there will be no exchanging of numbers, no second trysts, and no looking each other up,” he tells her nonchalantly.

I watch in complete astonishment as he flashes her a cocky, panty-dropping smile while his eyes remain locked on mine.

“If you want a great night, one that I promise you will remember for a long, long time, then those are the rules.  Take ‘em or leave ‘em.” His voice is cold, detached, but, somehow, the room is suddenly too warm.

“Your place or mine?” the debased redhead replies quickly.

“Huh uh, neutral setting, and you follow me.”  His words sicken me, but it’s his eyes that burn me like the second circle of hell.

  “I’m ready when you are.” With a flick of her hair over her perfectly tanned shoulder, his new conquest is overly eager.

“And there goes another one,” Jason, Jess’ boyfriend and co-owner of the Dark Hole, states, shaking his head in a mixture of awe, amusement, and jealousy.  “How does he get them to do that?”

  Jess leans her elbows on the counter, a reminiscent smile on her lips, “It’s all about the confidence, and Breck’s drenched in it.”

My attention quickly reverts to Jess. 

Giving a wink, she places her finger over her lips, nodding her head towards Jason. 

Before I have a chance to pull her aside for interrogation, a finger taps my shoulder. 

“Do you want to dance?” A brown-haired, green-eyed hunk who appears to be fresh out of college flashes a flirtatious smile, causing me to blush again.

“Go!” Jess pushes, flashing a wide grin and raising her eyebrow appreciatively at the hot stranger next to me.

Too many emotions are rioting inside of me, making me unsure of doing anything other than being a permanent fixture on my current seat at the bar for the remainder of the night.

Holding up her indigo tipped finger, she hoists herself on the bar top and slides across.  “Give me a sec with my girl here,” she coos to the man still holding his hand out for me to take. 

  “Um, sure, okay,” he responds, recoiling his hand while his eyes roam over the rarely exposed peek of flesh at the top of my chest before quickly relocating to the tight jean covered backside of Jess, proving that men are so infuriatingly predictable.

“Honey,” Jess grabs my shoulders, giving me her best exasperated glare when she plunks down in front of me, “you have turned down a number of chances to hook up since I’ve met you.  This guy is a tasty morsel of decadence!  If you turn him down, I’m going to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hook up with anyone, Jess,” I pout.

“Fine, don’t hook up then; just dance.  Have fun.  Forget about Justin for one night.  I swear, for someone you didn’t love, you sure pine over the boy like you did.”  Her hazel eyes lock on mine, not giving me any room to opt out.

“I don’t pine over him, Jess!” I reply a little too defensively, “I just feel bad.”  I do.  It’s crazy and I know it, but I still feel like I’m cheating if I go out on a date.

“If you dance with this one, I’ll stop calling you a nun,” she proposes in her sing-song voice, flashing a wide smile and cocking her eyebrow.

“You swear?”

Dashing her finger quickly back and forth across her chest, she holds it up and kisses it, “On my honor.”

“Deal,” I laugh, relieved to leave that nickname behind.

She grabs my hands and does a little happy jump, causing every man within visual distance to be ecstatic from the exuberant dance making her breasts bounce provocatively in their snug covering. “Fantastic!  Now, get out there and shake that cute ass until you can’t dance anymore.”

The grin on the expectant man matches Jess’, and I inwardly groan. Giving a polite smile, I take his hand, “I’m Emma.”

“Anton.”

“He’s hot and he’s French!” Jess squeals, wiggling her brows as she shoves me towards him.

Anton wraps his hand around my waist, sliding it to my lower back and pulling me towards him, already staking claim. 

Jess licks her lips, giving a salacious wink.

 
Behave
, I mouth to her as I’m led to the middle of the dance floor.

“Hell no!  You know what they say about well-behaved women!” she calls after me, sliding back over the counter.

Yeah, apparently they call us nuns.

“What part of the south are you from, Emma?” Anton asks, slipping his hand a little lower as he pulls me flush to his body.

Taking a step back, I give a shy smile, “South Carolina.” 

“Sexy accent for a sexy lady,” he smiles coyly, his fingertips now dangerously close to being intimately familiar. 

Reaching back, I raise his hand a couple of inches, “Thank you.”  Guilt seeps in at my lukewarm reply but I shrug it away, too tired of dealing with pushy men tonight.

“I’ve been watching and waiting for you to direct that sweet smile my way since you walked in.”

Repressing the desire to roll my eyes at the false assumption that it’s a prerequisite for men to use cheesy pickup lines at bars, my gaze shifts towards the door, wishing I could just go home.  I find Breck staring at me while the redhead wraps her jacket around her shoulders.  My pulse quickens.  Something in his eyes unnerves me, filling me with dread and sending a pulsating jolt of excitement that sears me straight to the bone.

“You should come to my place when the bar closes.” 

I vaguely hear Anton making his not so smooth move, but my attention is still diverted to the enigma standing on the threshold.  Carnal thoughts wage with futile attempts to break the vexing connection enslaving my failing senses.  Heat simmers through my veins to places low in my belly and my lips part in resentful shock from the intensity of emotions raging inside of me.  His gaze is full of hate, punishing even, and chills spill down my spine.  Need to know why he affects me this way conquers all my internal alarms blaring for me to just stay away. 

The redhead follows his gaze and the warning in her eyes is clear.  Disregarding the seething look, I pull away from Anton.  Breck’s lips curve slightly as his eyes gleam dominantly, daring, showing his intentions to play.  Standing my ground, I refuse to break the silent challenge.  I don’t understand the rules, or the game, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to lose.  The music stops; people push their way through the crowd towards the bar, but neither of us moves.  Anton is calling me.  I ignore him.  Flashes of light ignite the room in angry hues as the band begins the next song.  Breck’s
date
pulls on his arm, and it’s me who smiles this time. 

  Several accosting seconds tick by before he gives me a slight nod, admitting his defeat, but it’s the toxic mix of admiration and animosity in his eyes that strips me of air, making my knees weak.  With one last look, he’s gone, but I know whatever this is that he’s started is far from over.  Slowly, the tension gripping me begins to ease.  Dread and desire hit me like a sledgehammer.  I don’t want to play his game.  Good or bad, I don’t want to feel anything for him…not him.  Shaking my head, I blame Jess’ drink.  Feeling discombobulated and foreign in my own skin, I breathe a rushed apology to Anton and walk shakily to the bar. 

“That was quick.  What happened to Pierre?” Jess asks, her voice strained for having to yell over the band. 

“His name is Anton,” I correct her.

“Who cares?  He’s cute and French; that’s all you need to know.”

A little envy breaks through the fog, clouding my brain, and my lips curve into a wistful smile, wishing I could be more like Jess.  She’s fearless; I’m not.  Just once, it would be nice to do something without over-rationalizing it, to do something out of the ordinary from my predictable life.  Jess lives in the moment, never worrying about what people think.  I worry way too much about what people think.  Unwelcome thoughts of Breck and how I’m sure he could obliterate all semblance of any predictability in my life flash through my mind.  I push them away.  “I could use another drink.”

“Well, well, looks like Frenchy might be doing you some good,” she teases while mixing a margarita. 

“What’s up with you and Breck?” I ask, hating myself for it.

Jess places the margarita down, taking a few seconds to look at me before answering, “Why do you want to know?”

“Morbid curiosity.”

“He’s the ultimate one-night stand, Casanova to every woman and an absolute god to every man.” Jess grabs my margarita and takes a long sip, studying me the whole time.  “If you want to get Justin out of your head, and make sure Breck never comes near you again, sleep with him.”

“Sure. Let me just give a complete stranger my virginity so he’ll leave me alone,” I laugh.

“Why not?”

“You’re serious!” I stare at Jess incredulously.

“It’s the perfect solution to your Justin problem.  You will forget all about him once you’ve been with Breck.”

“I don’t have a ‘Justin problem’.”

“Fine, whatever,” she rolls her eyes. “It looks like Breck has taken an interest in you and he won’t stop until he gets you in bed, so save yourself the time and trouble and let him give you best night of your life.”

  Taking a large gulp of my margarita, I decide to go ahead and put an end to her devil’s advocate, “If I sleep with him then it will be something amazing.”

  “I’m not seeing the problem, hon.”

  “The problem is that it will be unforgettable to me, but I will be completely forgettable to him.  I don’t want my first time to be that way.”

She sighs, nodding her head in understanding, “You’re right; no one’s first time should be like that.”

“No one’s
anytime
should be like that.”

“Besides, if Breck is your first, you’ll be ruined.  No other man will ever live up to your expectations after that,” Jess states, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

“He can’t be that good,” I proclaim, frustrated by how every woman seems to fall at his feet. 

Jess nods her head at a nice looking twenty-something man who just stepped up to the bar.  She begins to grab the liquor of choice as she continues, “You know the expression, ‘it’ll knock your socks off’?”  Jess pours the mixed concoction into a glass, grabbing a lime wedge and squeezing it in as she winks at the man who is taking his time paying her. “Well, after one time with Breck, the next time he just walks by you, your panties will shimmy down your legs on their own accord.”

I spit out the sip of margarita I just took so I don’t choke at Jess’ brazen words said in front of a man who looks like he wants to crawl over the bar and shimmy Jess out of hers right now.  “Jess!” I hiss. 

Giving the needy, gorgeous man one last wink, she flashes me her mischievous smile, “It’s the truth, girl.”

Watching as Jess turns down yet another request for her number with her uncanny skill of leaving the poor man feeling like he is still walking away after the best night of his life instead of being publicly rejected, I ask, “How come you two are still friends if you have personal experience?  From what you told me, he has a woman once, then never looks back.”

Jess grabs four bottles of beer, dangling them in the air just out of reach from two questionably aged patrons, “IDs boys, and they better be real or Jason over there is going to personally throw you out the door on your asses.”