“You make a lot of sense when you’re drunk. I wish I could make that much sense right now.” Lola chuckles and starts twirling around in her chair again.
I give her a small smile and look back down at my beer. We’ve been sitting at the bar for thirty minutes while all the men have “church”. Or, as it was explained to me, they are having a club meeting in some conference room I had no idea existed. Damien was made a full member a few days ago. I had no idea he was even prospecting. Shows how much I know about motorcycle clubs. He even got a leather vest, or a cut as they call it. Well they call it cut or club colors. I don’t know, it confuses me half the time.
I haven’t seen him wear it, but tonight is his welcome to the club party. Or it might be canceled since this meeting wasn’t planned. Damien just told us to stay out here and wait. Bastard, one of the newer members gave us a pitcher of beer, and went back with the rest of the men.
Now Lola and I are in a room full of club whores and old ladies. I guess I could be considered an old lady. I’d rather not be called that, but I get the point. Being in a relationship to them is different then being in one out in the world. They live by their own rules, skating the law like a thin piece of ice. They live their way and civilians live another.
Lola slumps her head against the bar and that’s about the time I felt like going home. I moved out of my mom’s about three weeks ago. I got into an apartment in Meadows, this small suburban town outside of Dallas, where I’ve lived all my life. I didn’t want to be far from my brothers, or Victor’s house in case they wanted to come over. When he comes back he can explain it to Annabella. And until my mother approves of Damien, my brothers won’t know a damn thing. Sucks, but I have to listen to Mom’s rules or I won’t get to see them at all.
I didn’t move in with Damien because neither one of us is ready for that. I’m not even sure we’re officially a couple. I’ve heard him introduce me to his brothers as “his old lady” but he’s never told me “hey, you’re my girlfriend”. See where I could get confused? Or maybe I shouldn’t be confused at all. He doesn’t even look at other girls when I’m around. There are plenty of them around for him to get with. They seem to like to flap around like chickens in heat.
Do chickens even go into heat?
God I’m fucking drunk.
I slump my head against the bar too. I must have drifted off because warm hands race across my shoulders and I jerk upright. I have my fist raised to sucker punch the person when I realize it’s Damien.
And my eyes about fall out of my head.
He’s wearing nothing but his cut. Oh and jeans, just no shirt underneath the leather vest. “Where…where have you been hiding that body?”
I’m a tall girl. Always have been. I just stopped letting people make fun of me a long time ago. Damien towers over me, he’s so fucking tall. It’s nice to have to strain my neck to look at someone. Normally I’m always looking down.
All his tan skin is exposed on his arms and his stomach. His muscles are all sweaty and glisten in the low lights, giving him this glow. His abs contract as I move my eyes down them. I can’t see his pecs, but I’m sure they are as well defined as the rest of him. Black boxer briefs peek out of his low riding tight black jeans. They form fit to his legs and even those are well worked out. “When do you even have time to work out for that? You’d have to be in there for five hours a day.”
Yes I know. I’m stupid when I’m drunk.
Damien laughs and pulls me into his arms. I love how he smells. Have I said that before? Probably, I just don’t care. It’s like he’s been sweating in the forest. “I work out every day, just not for that long. How would I ever see you?”
“I’ll come work out with you. I like to work out, just not every day. That’d be way too much for me. I like to beat the shit out of that punching bag and run on the treadmill. Everything else seems silly.” I ramble on but I don’t think he hears me because we are moving towards the front of the building. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home. You’re shit-faced drunk. I didn’t even know you could get that drunk on beer,” he tells me once we get to my car.
I try to shove away from him but of course I don’t get away. “I don’t want to go home. It’s lonely there. All I think about are my brothers and my stupid mom. And I’ve never drank before, so of course I got drunk off beer, dumbass.”
My head starts to spin and I’m thankful when Damien gets me into my car. He lays me down on the bench seat and climbs in over me. “Move in with me then,” he whispers, staring down at me.