As soon as we get inside I lean toward Asha and ask, "Who's Connor?"
She lets out a flippant laugh before answering, "You've got a lot to learn."
Before I can say another word she pushes through the doors to the main room, and I'm suddenly assaulted by a combination of lights and sound that thumps through my body and shakes all my senses. Beautiful, ecstatic men and women jump and move as if dueling with the strobe lights that flicker over them, turning reality into a slow motion picture slideshow while bass shakes the air around us, pumps the blood in our bodies, ghostlike melodies floating through the violent, tribal drums with heavenly allure.
Asha pulls me deeper into the jostling throng and I see her laugh, head thrown back in the flashing lights, as the music shifts and slows, dulls itself as if it's underwater. A few songs later Asha puts a drink in my hand, but I'm already intoxicated, mind swirling, body alive with sensation. We agree on a protocol, to text if we need each other, otherwise we'll meet up on the second floor bar in about an hour, and then the music emerges clearer now, quickening somehow, an unresolved melody pushing back and forth, urging me further each time. When it reaches its climax, the whole places erupts, a sea of upraised arms, a tidal wave of euphoria passing from body to body.
Memories of the raves and parties I went wild at during college flood back into my body, a physical reminder of the exhilaration I felt when I wasn't concerned about work enough yet to turn down offers to go out. Except tonight I'm here, and I've already given up on tomorrow morning-so there's nothing to do but let myself go, just like old times.
I lose track of time, lose track of Asha, lose track of who I even am as I let myself unfold on the dance floor alongside men and women who share my energy and euphoria with every move. A million miles from even remembering what had me so wound up today, every minute I spend in this place a step further from the tension and stress of my life.
Then I see him. Up on the second floor, leaning over the railing that looks over the main dance floor. Even in the dark, in the crowd, amid the sensory overload of the lights and sounds and movement, those eyes are unmistakable-and they're staring back at me above an entertained smile. He notices me noticing him and raises his glass, but I don't do anything in return, just spin back and continue dancing.
Except his eyes are still on me, and I can feel them. Keenly studying every sway of my hips, every arch of my back. If he thinks he's just going to stand there and watch me all night long with that lusty gaze, I'll give him something fierce to look at. I glance every once in a while in his direction through narrowed eyes, giving him a glimpse of my half smile before turning away again. Cole's not the only one noticing me, and soon I find myself with a hot guy right in front of me, his eyes undressing me, his hands on my hips, mine on his shoulders, except it's not him I really want, and it's not his eyes that are making me move like this, because however hot he is, Cole is still the hottest guy in this club. I glance up at him every so often, over the guy's shoulder, wondering if he's getting jealous. Until eventually I look and he's not there anymore.
Exhausted, my mouth dry, and wondering if Cole is still around, I make for the steps leading up to the second floor bar, where I hope to get something cold to drink. Somehow, as I move up the stairs, the sound of the music seems to lessen, fading from the soul-shaking boom it was on the dance floor to a background rhythm that I can actually hear the people on the second floor talking over.
I move toward the bar, gliding on the exultation of physical activity, when the sound of my name draws my attention to the side.
"Willow." I look in the direction of the deep, commanding voice, and see Cole stalking toward me like he's finally cornered his prey. "Looks like you worked up quite a sweat down there," he says, eyes roving across my skin.
"I figured I deserved to let things go a little," I say, nonchalantly. Two can play this game.
He leans closer. "You drinking tonight?"
"No. I'm too thirsty for alcohol."
Cole lifts the bottle of water he's holding in his hand.
"I figured," he says, offering it.
I smile and take it, cracking open the sealed top and tipping my head back to gulp the coolness from the icy bottle, feeling his eyes upon me once again.
"Thanks," I say, gasping a little from the water's freshness. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
Cole laughs easily.
"Same thing as you, I presume."
I grin and shake my head. "Unless you were dragged here by your well-meaning roommate, I doubt it."
"Well … something like that. I know Jax Wilder."
He looks at me for a second until I realize he expects me to know who that is.