Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(88)

 

“Do you make a lot of money doing something like this? Is that why you came from Florida?” Oh, yeah, Quin. That was way better. Why don’t you ask her if she turns tricks on the side too while you’re at it?

 

“Yes, I do make good money and I have friends out here. But I don’t recommend this line of business if that’s why you’re asking.” She opens the door and the sounds are back. “Have fun.”

 

“I wasn’t asking for that reason. Not really. But thanks for the advice!” I watch her perfectly-shaped butt leave the stink-hole of a bathroom and disappear into the crowd. Man. If I could have a butt like that and the eyebrows I was born with … even George Clooney would be mine.

 

As my eyes adjust to the darkness again, I suddenly remember what was so awful in my life that I had to climb through sludge to get to it. Mick! Crap! Where is he?

 

There’s a group of people dancing off to the side of the stage that draws my gaze. I didn’t know that anyone but girls about to take their clothes off danced at strip clubs. And then I recognize the mini skirt.

 

Ugh. All of the office girls and possibly a few others that got caught up in the action are now dancing around Mick. He’s in the middle, somehow managing to groove with every single one of them at the same time.

 

My heart starts to burn and I feel nauseas. Ow. I rub my chest a bit. Jealousy is painful.

 

I’m standing sucking my cheeks in and contemplating my next move when Alissa appears at my side. Colin is a few paces behind her.

 

“Where have you been?” she asks, annoyed.

 

I look at her as my fishy-face falls back into normalness. Jealousy moves over for annoyance. “Stuck in the bathroom, thank you very much. You totally abandoned me and I got locked inside.” I go back to staring at Mick. I can’t stop drooling over his easy moves as he turns and dips and bobs with the rhythm of the music and twelve bouncy, barely-contained boobs.

 

“Oh my god, how did you get out?” She doesn’t sound very concerned. More like amused.

 

“I had to crawl under the door, if you must know.” I can’t help but brush at my clothes again for about the tenth time. I swear I smell ass on me somewhere.

 

Alissa doesn’t say anything. I look over and find her laughing.

 

“You’re a dick,” I say, taking a step towards Mick.

 

She grabs my arm and pulls me back. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m going to get Mick. It’s time to go.”

 

“No, you’re not. Get back here.” She’s pretty strong for a pregnant girl. “He’s doing just fine. Leave him alone.”

 

I yank my arm away when I’m next to her again. “How would you know?”

 

“Because, Colin told me what they were talking about before they were dancing. He’s getting all kinds of info. Those girls are getting drunker with every minute that goes by and they like to talk.”

 

“It’s not worth it,” I say, watching a girl grind her lady-parts up against Mick’s leg. “He’s sacrificing too much.”

 

She snorts. “Oh. Yeah. He’s really sacrificing, all right.”

 

My mood sinks down into darkness. Mick is totally into it; I can tell by his expression. And besides, hips don’t lie. He’s moving his like he’s in an Usher video. And he’s Usher. Double triple shit basket. “Yeah. I guess it’s not much of a sacrifice to dirty dance with six girls named Holly Hooter, is it?”

 

“Seven. There are seven Holly Hooters whatever. Come on. Let’s go have a drink. I have an orange juice with your name on it over here.”

 

I follow her back to the bar, refusing to watch Mick over my shoulder. He’s only doing what I asked him to do and I can’t blame him for doing it well. Besides, what did I expect from a guy nicknamed Hellion? It’s pretty sad that I was picturing him being my boyfriend not an hour before. He’s not boyfriend material. He’s a party boy and I’m just a family girl. It would never work between us. I take a long pull of orange juice from the straw. I’m going to drown my sorrows in Vitamin C.

 

“What’s wrong?” Colin asks, moving up on my right.

 

“Nothing. Just a mood. I’m tired. I want to go home.” I get my pout on hot and heavy. It feels a little bit better to wallow in self-pity. Woe is me. My life sucks a bag of dicks.

 

“We’re staying in a hotel, I hope,” he says.

 

“Can’t we just go?” I whine. “You can drive, right? You slept for half the trip.”