Every Little Dream(6)
I’m practicing my sexy voice over and over so I don’t hear the car pull up next to me until the window is down and some jerk is whistling.
“Looking for a date?” His muscled arm hangs out the window. The car is full of guys.
I quickly look, not wanting to stare or seem interested. The cold gleam in his eyes, void of any compassion, jumps out at me. I take in his slick blond hair and push forward. Danger rolls off him like the tide coming in.
“Screw off,” I state, hoping he’ll get the message. Maybe I should have cursed? That might’ve sounded a little scarier. He’s not the kind of guy I’m looking for.
“Ooh. Tough girl.”
I stick my chin in the air. That’s right. But the car revs, inching along, staying right next to me as I walk. I try not to glance around at who might be available if the car stops. My heart races and I clutch my purse so I won’t wipe the sweat from the palm of my hands on my skirt. Maybe it’s too short? Maybe it is a little too inviting. That wasn’t my intention. Or was it?
I walk fast enough that I’m breathless. Their silence freaks me out. I blink back tears. Finally, I see the neon lights of The Salty Dog and want to cry. Two steps away from the door, I breathe a sigh of relief. At the last second, in a moment of recklessness, I turn and flip off the car of guys.
They honk their horn, catcalling from the window. Then with engine revving on high, they squeal away, leaving behind the smell of rubber.
By the time I enter The Salty Dog I’m shaking. I wobble straight to the bar and slap a few dollars on the counter. “A cold one.”
The bartender gives me a strange look, then pours beer straight from the tap into an iced glass. I gulp it down, trying to calm the fear stirring up in my gut, telling me this is crazy stupid and I should walk away. Now!
While sipping casually, I gather up the courage to face the room. The music has a sultry beat that I feel deep down in my gut, inviting me to dance. The lack of light hides distinct features on anyone, so there’s only clothing and hair to go by. Most are laughing and drinking at tables. One guy punches his friend and I can’t tell if they’re about to break out in a fight or not.
The weight of a stare causes a shiver down my back. I hunt down my quiet observer until I find him sitting at a table across the room. He’s with friends but he’s not paying attention. Every once in a while he comments as if he’s a part of their conversation but his eyes stay on me. His dark hair looks like he needs a good old-fashioned haircut. My gaze travels to his dark eyes, hidden by the low lighting, to his lips then to his tight-fitting tee. Hmm. He might be a good candidate. I turn around. Isn’t this how it’s done? Act like I’m not interested? Play it cool.
The door bursts open and the atmosphere in the bar changes immediately. A group of guys waltz in like they own the place. Everyone looks away, suddenly interested in their friends and their drinks. I see the flash of blond hair. I know exactly who it is and why everyone turned away. I’m not the only one who knows this guy is a complete jerk.
I trace my fingers up and down my glass. My legs bounce, wanting to run, slip out the back entrance, but that might draw attention to myself. Every second that passes, my breathing deepens and my nerves calm down. He’s probably completely forgotten about the girl from the sidewalk.
A hand snakes around my front, causing me to jostle the almost-empty drink. My head is slightly buzzing, the room a little tipsy and I’m not sure I like the feeling. I squirm away but his grip tightens.
His words are hot on my ear and he sucks on my ear lobe. “What a coincidence, you and me ending up here. I think it’s fate.” With a strong grip on my arm, he pulls me off the barstool. I tense and try to yank away but I can’t as he drags me to the dance floor.
“You need to play nice, like a good girl.” His knuckles trace my cheek. “I’d hate to see this pretty face of yours messed up.” His hands wander up and down my body as he sways in front of me under the pretense of dancing.
I’m like a board, unmoving. Any remaining buzz translates into fear but his threatening words surround me, making it impossible for me to move. When his hand grazes my butt, I instinctively kick out. My toe connects with his shin.
“What the fuck?”
His eyes, a dark, fathomless pit of hatred, pierce mine. His fingers clench at his side and I know I’ve gone too far.
Then someone is next to me. An arm drapes over my shoulder. The tingly smell of pine soap is on the guy attached to the arm. “What’s up, babe? You took long enough to get here. I’ve been waiting.” He lightly kisses my cheek. I stiffen until I catch a look at his dark eyes and hair. It’s the guy watching me just seconds ago. “Play along,” he whispers.