If I Can't Have You - Page 52

“I’ll think about it,” I say, my nose back in my book.

“No seriously. You pulled an all-nighter. Tonight is going to be epic and I think you’ll want to stay awake for it.”

“You think?”

Whit sighs, “Robs, sarcasm? Seriously?”

“All right. I’ll take a damn nap with you,” I say gruffly. I know Whit and the only way to get her off my case is to agree with her when she has an idea.


Whit stalks down the hall to the showers and I take another swig of my red bull. I have to agree with her on one thing; whether tonight turns out good or bad it’s definitely going to be epic.


Love puts the fun in together, the sad in apart, and the joy in a heart. ~Author Unknown~

The club is called The Hideaway and as Whit and I cross the street I notice that the line is wrapped around the side of the building. This definitely must be the place to be on a Saturday night.

“Are we going to have to wait in that line?” I ask Whit.

“Of course not,” she says as she grabs my hand pulling me to the front of it. “I told you before, I have connections.”

We come to a halt at the front of the line. The bouncer is a tall, chubby guy with sandy blonde hair. He clutches a clipboard with both of his massive hands, staring down at a list of names and Whit clears her throat, commanding his attention. He lifts his eyes and a hint of redness floods his cheeks. Whit bats her eyelashes and reveals a flirty grin. Then the bouncer whose name is Ted (and I know this because Whit told me on the way here) eyes the line of people before leaning close to Whit’s ear. “Go around the side of the building. The exit door is open,” he whispers. “I’ve left two wristbands under the rock that’s holding the door open.”

“Thanks, doll.” Whit gives him a peck on the cheek and we walk around to the side of the building. Sure enough when we get there, the door is open and I notice the hint of pink from the wristband peeking out from under the rock.

I snatch the wristbands and we both put them on, walking through the side entrance. “That wasn’t right,” I tell Whit as she closes the door behind her.

She scrunches her eyebrows together. “What wasn’t right?”

We walk down a long, darkened hall and the sound of thumping music vibrates the walls. “You shouldn’t lead that guy on like that. It’s obvious that he really, really likes you.”

“Who says I’m leading him on?” She says with a devious grin.

I stop walking, grip her arm, and shake my head. “Are you forgetting that I know you better than I know myself?” Whit has a tendency to flirt with guys she’s clearly not attracted to, to get something she wants. In his school she used to flirt with this kid named Marty Flannery who was even nerdier than me. He had translucent skin and was always blowing his nose and Whit would flirt with him to get all the answers to her math homework because she never did it.

“Look,” Whit says. “Can we discuss this later? Listen to the chaos going on inside. We’re missing out on all the fun because you’re having a heartfelt moment.” Whit pulls her arm out of my grasp. “And besides, you of all people should talk.”

I know she’s referring to the summer and my little love triangle with Drake and Elliot so I shoot her a nasty that says don’t-even-go-there.

She takes one look at my face and changes the subject. “Can’t we just forget about all the boy drama and enjoy ourselves?”

I nod, even though I’m still a little pissed off and follow her into the club.

It makes me mad that s

he’d even compare what happened with me and Elliot to this situation. For starters, Whit uses guys to get what she wants and I didn’t. I didn’t use Elliot or Drake. I was confused about my feelings for them, there’s a difference. But I suppose she’s right about one thing; I’m definitely not the right person to be handing out advice on guys.

When we reach the end of the hall, Whit comes to a sudden stop. She brought up Elliot and thoughts of him have my mind in a whirl. I’m staring at my feet, and reminiscing about his words, his touch, and his kiss and I’m totally not paying attention to Whit’s movements. So when she stops, I smack into her back and she stumbles forward.

“Hey!” she snaps. “Watch it, Robs.”

“Sorry,” I mutter, eyes still on the floor. Then I left my head slowly and gasp at the sight of my surrounds. “Oh. My. God. This place is amazing.”

Whit nods. “I know, right?”

The club is split into four sections. Lining each side of the massive, open space are VIP sections with red, crushed velvet couches, roped off entrances, and they are secluded by walls of glass. In the back portion of the club is a stage-like area with more of the velvet couches and bar that’s whole counter is lit up.

Tags: Lauren Hammond Romance
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