After We Collided (After 2)

When I step out of the elevator, I spot Trevor’s black hair near the entrance. In his black dress pants and cream sweater, he reminds me of Noah a bit. I take a second to admire how handsome he looks before I make my presence known. When his eyes find me, they go wide, and he makes a noise between a cough and a squeak. I can’t help but laugh a little as his cheeks flush.

“You look . . . you look beautiful,” he says.

I smile and say, “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

His cheeks redden. “Thanks,” he murmurs. It’s an odd thing to see him off balance like this. He’s usually so calm and collected.

“There they are!” I hear Kimberly call.

“Wow, Kim!” I say and wave my hand over my face, like I’m dispelling some illusion. She looks stunning in a red halter dress that only reaches halfway down her thighs. Her short blond hair is pin straight, making her look sexy, yet classy at the same time.

“I have a feeling we’ll be fighting men off all night,” Christian says to Trevor, and they both laugh as they escort us out to the sidewalk.

At Christian’s instruction, the car takes us to a really nice seafood restaurant, where I have the most delicious salmon and crab cakes, and where Christian tells us all sorts of hilarious stories about his days in publishing in New York. We all have a great time, and Trevor and Kimberly tease him a little, since he has a good sense of humor about everything.

After dinner, the car takes us a short distance to an all-glass three-story building. Through its windows I watch hundreds of flashing lights illuminate swaying bodies, creating a fascinating mix of lights and darks across limbs and bodies. It’s not far off from what I envisioned a club would be like, though much larger and with a lot more people.

As we get out, Kimberly grabs my arm. “We’ll go to a more laid-back place tomorrow—some of the guys from the conference wanted to come here, so here we are!” She laughs.

The very large man guarding the door holds a clipboard in his hands and is clearly controlling access to the inside. A line of expectant partygoers fills the entire sidewalk and reaches around the corner of the street.

“Will we have to wait long?” I ask Trevor.

“Oh no.” He chuckles. “Mr. Vance doesn’t wait.”

I soon see what he means when Christian whispers something to the bouncer and the big man moves the rope to let us through immediately. I’m a little dazed when I walk in, with music pounding and lights dancing across the massive smoke-filled space.

I’m pretty sure I’ll never understand why people like to pay to get a headache and inhale synthetic smoke while grinding on strangers.

A woman in a short dress leads us up some stairs to a small room with thin curtains for walls. Within are two couches and a table.

“This is a VIP section, Tessa,” Kimberly tells me as I look around with curious eyes.

“Oh,” I answer simply and follow their lead by taking a seat on one of the couches.

“What do you usually drink?” Trevor asks me.

“Oh, I don’t usually,” I answer.

“Me either. Well, I like wine, but I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Oh no, you are drinking tonight, Tessa. You need it!” Kimberly says loudly.

“I—” I start to say.

“She’ll have a Sex on the Beach, and so will I,” she tells the woman.

The hostess nods, and Christian orders a drink that I’ve never heard of and Trevor orders a glass of red wine. No one has yet questioned whether I’m of legal age or not. Maybe I look older than I am, or maybe Christian is known well enough here that people don’t want to upset his company by asking.

I have no idea what a Sex on the Beach is, but I prefer not to showcase my ignorance. When the woman returns, she hands me a tall glass with a piece of pineapple and a small pink umbrella sticking out of the top. I thank her and quickly take a sip through the straw. It ‘s really very good, sweet but with a little kick of bitterness as I swallow.

“Good?” Kim asks, and I nod, taking another long drink.

Chapter fourteen

HARDIN

Aw, come on, Hardin. One more,” Molly says in my ear.

I haven’t decided yet if I want to get drunk. I’ve already had three shots, and I know if I take another, I will be drunk. On the one hand, getting as plastered as I can and forgetting about everything that’s going on sounds nice. But on the other hand, I need to be able to think clearly.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Molly says, slurring her words.

Molly smells like pot and whiskey. Part of me wants to take her into the bathroom and fuck her, just because I can. Just because Tessa is in Seattle with fucking Trevor and I am three hours away sitting on a couch half fucking drunk.

“Come on, Hardin, you know I can make you forget all about her,” she says and scoots onto my lap.

“What?” I ask her as she wraps her arms around my neck.

“Tessa. Let me make you forget her. You can fuck me until you can’t even remember her name.” Her hot breath touches my neck, and I pull away from her.

“Get off me,” I say.

“What the fuck, Hardin?” she snaps, her ego obviously wounded.

“I don’t want you,” I say harshly.

“Since when? You didn’t have a problem fucking me all those other times.”

“Not since . . .” I start to say.

“Not since what?” She jumps up off the couch, swinging her arms around wildly. “Since you met that stuck-up bitch?”

I have to remind myself that Molly is a female—and not the actual demon she acts like—before I do something stupid. “Don’t talk about her like that.” I stand up.