Marked

So yeah, not so bad, now that the liquid courage was kicking in bigtime, and I was living for it.

I shifted on the barstool and looked over my shoulder at the dance floor. The club lights were low, colorful neon up-lighting on the walls, this disco ball in the center. The sphere of mirrors kind of seemed a little out of place in this modern place, a little old-school, but I liked it. I liked the prisms it cast across the ceiling and floor.

“I really like this place,” I said and took a drink of my beer. I had to shout, and I looked over at Nadine. She sat on the barstool beside me, the sequin crop-top showing off her tight little body. Me, on the other hand… I looked like a grandma compared to everyone else.

Ripped jeans and a V-neck fitted T-shirt completed my “club look.”

Nadine was on her second whiskey sour, her gaze moving over the dance floor as she sipped the alcohol through two tiny red straws. She was bopping her head in time with the music, and I watched her eyes widen before she pulled the drink away and set it on the counter.

I looked in the direction she was focused on, but aside from the grinding twenty-something-year-olds, I didn’t know what caught her attention.

“What?” I shouted and glanced back at her. She tipped her chin in the direction I’d just been looking. I turned again, but all I saw were half-naked women with supermodel bodies, guys with sleeve tattoos, and a whole lot of bumping and grinding going on.

She leaned close to me, and I smelled the whiskey on her breath as it teased the shell of my ear. “Look at the two guys at nine o’clock.

I was pretty sure it was the alcohol that was getting to me, but I had to mentally picture a clock and where nine was on it before I turned my attention in that direction. The majority of the men in the club were extremely good-looking, reeking of sexual need, and then I realized who she was talking about, or at least one of them.

He seemed older, looked more experienced in life than my thirty-two years, at least. He seemed mature, and I was only going off his appearance, the way he stood, and the way he had this powerful air about him. It was as if maybe he didn’t quite fit in here. Like me.

He was tall, muscular. At first, I thought maybe he was a bouncer, because of his stature and the sheer muscular size of him. And then there was the scowl he had on his face. It screamed “stay the fuck away from me.”

He had a darker complexion, an olive skin tone, and his hair was black, cut short, a little bit messy but in a really sexy way. He looked Mediterranean—maybe Italian or Greek.

What am I doing, measuring him for a suit, creating a profile for him as I take in his stats?

The guy who stood beside him was several inches shorter, not as bulky or muscular. He had a swimmer’s build, with longer blond hair that reminded me of the guys I went to middle school with in the nineties, parted in the center and falling to their ears. There was a woman beside the blond, hanging all over his arm, looking up at him like she was ready to fuck his brains out right in front of everybody.

“God, that blond reminds me of Trevor Gold. Do you remember him?”

I turned my attention back to Nadine and thought about who she was talking about. I’d known Nadine since elementary school, and I didn’t have to think very hard on who she was speaking about.

“You know, my Trevor Gold.”

“Oh yeah. I for sure know who you’re talking about,” I said and started laughing, remembering how obsessed she’d been with him. “How in the hell could I forget Trevor?”

She’d been in love with him from the sixth to eighth grade. He’d been the guy she’d shared her first kiss with during a spin-the-bottle session at Holly Montgomery’s birthday party. Nadine had even talked about marrying him, even if she was only thirteen. But it turned out he’d been a bigger douchebag than we anticipated, so she definitely dodged a bullet. Just like she’d dodged a bullet with Jay.

“I’m actually liking the look of the other guy,” I said, flinching, because I hadn’t meant to mumble that out loud. When I looked over at her, I was glad to see she still had her focus on the blond, clearly not hearing me over the rush of music.

The last thing I needed was for Nadine to have heard me and try to convince me to go up and talk to him. When she meant “balls to the wall” this weekend, I knew she meant that in every possible way, even getting crazy with a one-night stand. And although there was nothing wrong with that, I’d never been so adventurous. Hell, I’d only ever been with one guy in my life, and it was less than memorable. After that, I vowed never to give myself over again until I felt an undeniable pull that went beyond physical and sexual attraction.