Find Me (6 page)
“No mind is much employed upon the present; recollection and anticipation fill up almost all our moments.”
Layla
The buzz is coming on pretty strongly and the guys are talking about getting another round already.
“I’m good for right now, but you guys can go on ahead.”
“Oh no
, Lals. You’re doing this with us.” Gage says.
“I’m already feeling it and I want to dance. You guys can grab a few more drinks and meet me out there on the floor.” I say, ignoring Gage’s comment.
I stand up and begin to walk away, when I feel a hand tugging on my elbow. Glancing to my arm, I see it’s Liam’s hand.
“You coming to dance?” I ask
, trying not to sound so hopeful.
“Only
because the bartender’s eyes are on you. I’m not giving him a chance to get you alone.”
“Oh,” I say
, hope instantly deflated.
I make my way to the dance floor. It’s a
huge thirty by sixty foot area with tables surrounding on all side but one. The bar is located at the foot of the dance floor, to make it easier for customers to run up grab a drink and go back to dancing.
Leaving the area
, I am free for Carls’ eyes to roam. The lights are dimmed down in the entire establishment, but the dance floor has the extra strobe lights beaming off of sweaty bodies. The bar is packed tonight, not unlike any other night.
I shimmy my way through bodies grinding on one another to
Ushers’ Love in this Club
. Myself? I would prefer to sing and dance along to some
Tommy Tutone
or
The Outfield
any night. But as of right now, I will take what I can get. I just want to dance.
I start swaying my hips to the beat of
the melody swirling around me, so loud that I can barely hear my own thoughts. I do not consume enough alcohol to get drunk on a regular basis, rarely often. Tonight, when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t back out. After the Liam fiasco- fuck, the Liam fiascos’- I wanted this. I needed this. A night to let go and free myself. Go numb to the pain, block out all of the issues that are at hand, and now also planning a wedding.
It’s a break away from the beginning to the madness that will surely ensue
, once my parents discover that not only I, but also Natalie will be in town. That we will be home.
I’m so caught up
inside of my head that at first I don’t feel someone grasping my hips and dancing along with me. It takes me by surprise for a moment but when I shake out of the shock I just go along with it. I don’t even look to see who it is. I lean my back in resting against the heavy muscular chest that’s behind me.
Together
, we sway into the beat, we meld, and we float for what feels like hours. One song becomes another, then another, until they all sound the same. It sets my mood for the night. Relaxed. Until I hear the whisper in my ear.
“He can’t stop staring at you and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”
Liam.
I pull myself out of his grasp and fling myself around, almost unbalancing my feet at the same time. I end up falling head first into him. Once I right myself
, I give him a glare.
“What?” he asks surprised.
“That’s the only reason you were dancing with me?”
“Well
, someone has to watch out for you, Layla.”
“I’m doing fine by myself
. I do not need a self-appointed protector.” I argue.
“I can see just how fine you’re doing. The guy can’t keep his fucking eyes off of you and I know how he talks to you, it doesn’t feel right.” He says.
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Liam. If you want to dance with me because you want to dance with me, then fine, but don’t join me out of obligation, or duty. I am not in need of your services.”
I walk away
, sliding my body through the throngs of other drunk patrons finding a spot I can dance by myself in, without Liam. And without Carl’s eerily stalkerish glances.
When
Stay With Me
by
Sam Smith
comes on, the song that calls for a slow dance with a partner, I say fuck it and dance with myself. I’m not walking off this floor to go back to the table, where Liam is only to restart a conversation that I don’t want. I’m taking cues from him, I guess. Sometimes running away is better.
I hug my arms around myself and close my eyes, letting the song take me. Allowing the words to soothe me, consume me. My body flows like liquid with every syllable, every line
, and every verse.
Suddenly
, I’m pulled forward and arms are tightly wrapping around me.
“I’m sorry,” Liam apologizes.
“Mhmm.” I reply, partly because my mouth is locked against his chest and the other part is because, what can I say? I don’t want an argument to ensue. Sure, I’m a little peeved. I was hoping he had wanted to dance with me, just because.
“Really, I am.”
He lets go of me for a few seconds, tugging my arms out of their spot, then enclosing me again. He takes the lead, swaying our bodies and slowly I glide my hands around him.
Loosely at first and then somewhere along the line
, I find myself clutching him. Wanting him closer, even though his body is already melded against mine. We’re touching each other’s every crevice. And all of a sudden I’m hot. My body is sweating and I am thinking thoughts that I shouldn’t be thinking.
Thoughts such as, I wonder how he tastes. Does he taste as delicious as he smells? Would he let me run my tongue along every single line the
tattoo gun carved into his body? Slowly tasting every single inch of skin he has. Would he make love? Or would he use my body to such extent that I wouldn’t be able to walk for days?
Questions that at this point
, I desperately wanted the answers to.
A sign that I should really let go of him and get myself another drink, maybe scope out the men in the bar. Someone that is free and only wants a few nights together. Just enough to sate my lust, hopefully.
I come out of my deep lusty reverie, only to realize that my fingers are literally millimeters from clutching his entire ass. Shame and embarrassment flood through me. If he had any idea what I was thinking, I’m sure he would have booked as far away from me as he could possibly go.
I slowly drop my hands and pull away from him and he reluctantly lets go.
“You all right?” He asks, concern etching his face.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little hot in here and with all the dancing
, I need another drink. How about you?”
“I could go for another
. Come on, let’s find the guys.” He says, while pulling my hand with him.
We walk back to the table we were at earlier, the one that’s hidden in the corner. The only table that is slightly hidden in the shadows
, offering a bit of privacy.
All three of the guys, Gage, Zepp, and Jason are sitting at the table
accompanied by three women. The woman that’s half sitting on Gages lap, approaches me first.
She has
an honest look about her, innocent. She fits the girl next door mold well. Shoulder length brown hair, slightly angled outward brown eyes and perfect pink lips that are currently smiling in my direction.
She reaches out her hand as in to shake mine, “Hello, my name is
Abigail. You can call me Abby, all of my friends do. What’s yours?”
I take her hand, not wanting to look like a complete bitch and shake it. Far as I know
, the innocent look could be an act. She could just be some groupie looking to bag Gage and use him for all he’s worth. If there is anything I have learned in the past few months, it is this: You cannot judge a book by its cover, looks are deceiving. I cannot express that enough. The one time you let your guard down, could be the undoing for any one of these guys.
“
You can call me Layla,” I say politely, but with my guard still in place.
“I was thinking of getting out of here, so were Zepp and Jason.” Gage says. The wheels in his eyes spinning in motion. He’s taking this girl home.
“Yeah, we were thinking of getting out of here too.” Liam says acceptingly.
Wait, what?
We were planning on grabbing another drink. I don’t think it’s safe to go home just yet. Not with how my hormones are skittering all over the place, like electrical currents zapping everything in its wake. I look to Liam in surprise and he shrugs me off.
“I’ll call us a cab,” Liam says
, looking at me.
“I find that the further I go back, the better things were, whether they happened or not.”
-Mark Twain
Liam
I shut the door and lock it behind me. Layla runs on ahead and into her room. The
alcohol is slowly dwindling out of my blood stream, the buzz not as strong as it was an hour ago. I walk into the kitchen in search of a glass for water. After I fill it up from the tap, I walk into my bedroom and grab the
Tylenol
off my dresser.
I’ve
learned that for me, taking some acetaminophen and downing a few glasses of water helps prevent a hangover, no matter how many shots I consume. I toss my shirt in the hamper and my jeans follow shortly after. I’m down to my boxer briefs, when Layla comes rushing in.
At first
, she just stares at me. I can feel and see her eyes all over my body. I shouldn’t be interested and I really, really shouldn’t want anything like this to happen. I’m not sure if it’s the slight buzz I still have going on, or if it’s just me. I’ve been abstaining from sex for over a year now, not wanting the difficulties that seem to come with, when I do fuck someone. Again, I really shouldn’t want this. It has the power to ruin us, as not only friends, but roommates. Plus, her best friend is marrying my best friend. I shrug off her eyes. Not easily, though.
“Yes?” I ask her.
“You are aware that I didn’t bring my phone out with me tonight?” She looks skittish.
“I guessed
, because I didn’t see it in your hand. Had you brought it, you would have been glued to it. I’m tired as fuck, because someone’s screams woke me up this morning, so please get to the point,” I say, it coming out harsher than I had intended it to. But my patience is wearing thin and I really don’t want my cock to harden at this moment. Which it will, if I have to put up with her presence while she’s wearing her barely there shorts and see through tank top.
I have to keep reminding myself, tables, chairs, dogs, dudes. To keep my now sex addled cock at bay.
“No need to be such a dick.”
“Layla,” she cuts me off.
“Well I just checked my phone and I have a shitload of text messages all from the same person.”
“Who,” I ask
. Obviously it isn’t the usual, if she seems so concerned about it.
“Carl.”
Well, this instantly pisses me off.
“Let me see,” I demand.
She hands me her phone and I open her messages. There clear as day, is the name Carl. So she obviously exchanged numbers with him at some point, because she has his name in her contacts. That infuriates me and I have no idea why. I ignore those feelings and click his name.
Thankfully
, she didn’t reply and she doesn’t have the setting turned on that would let him see that his messages were read. They start out harmless at first, him saying hi. That he likes what she’s wearing tonight, the color of her dress compliments her. All charming things to say. Then slowly but surely, things turn sour. He starts to say that he would like to see her outside of work, that he could give her many nights of pleasure.
That had she wanted to, he would have met her in the break room and taken her right there. He would ‘fuck her brains out’. When she doesn’t reply though
, he gets more demanding that she do. That he’s had enough of her teasing and he won’t stand for it anymore. That seeing her ‘with that guy’ on the dance floor made him want her even more, but also pissed him off. The idea of him being so possessive of her, without having any claim to her, makes me sick. It also makes me want to murder him.
I keep scrolling through and sure enough
, he starts threatening her job. That if she wants a job to return to, she needs to go on a date with him that promises an afterwards interlude. I stop reading and look to Layla. She looks frightened and she’s lightly shaking.
“You need to quit
. You’re not going back there.”
“I- I can’t.”
“What?” I say, this time just as harsh as I had intended.
“I need an income
. There aren’t a lot of jobs around here, especially for someone who hasn’t even completed a degree and surely there isn’t any job in my field of choice.”
“You have money
, Layla, You don’t even need a job. Are you kidding me? You would really stay at a job where you have a crazy co-worker, who is bordering the thin line of creeper and stalker obsessed?” I ask, demanding an answer.
“You are right, I do have money. Right now. Who knows how long that’s going to last
. I need to save.”
“Save for what? You don’t need or want for anything
. I doubt you’ve ever had to struggle paycheck to paycheck.”
“In case my parents cut me off. I have to save
, so I can pay my own way.” She says in a whisper.
“Why would your parents cut you off now? Either way
, I don’t see it as an excuse to not quit.”
“They are going to cut me off as soon as they find out that Natalie and I will be home
. That the wedding is going to be at home and that they won’t be invited.”
“Then find a different job! Something
! You cannot go back to that fucking bar. If they cut you off before you find another job- something that I don’t understand and it’s not even the issue at the moment- I’ll pay for everything. You want to settle for good in Boston? Anywhere? I’ll buy you a damn house. You don’t have to worry, but you are not going back there,” I tell her, leaving her no choice in the matter.
“Liam, I can’t accept that. Truly, I am grateful that you would do that
, but I’m not a charity. I can and will do this on my own. I’ll figure it out,” she turns around to leave my room, “Goodnight.”
I pull her away from my door and back to me
. She’s not running away from this conversation, like she did at the bar. I’m not letting her run away, like I always do. I’m a little surprised that she’s not sucking at every emotion I am throwing out at her and begging for more. She always carries that longing look of loneliness with her. Even when she’s happy, it’s still there, just hidden beneath a veil of faked cheerfulness.
“Layla
, I’m not done talking about this. I mean it, you are not going back there. If you do, I will carry your pretty little ass out of there myself. I’ll throw you over my shoulder in front of everyone. Don’t believe me? Try it. Go back, work your next shift. The second you walk in that door, I will be right behind you, taking you out of there. After I punch that cocksucker in the face, of course.” I threaten, my face overcrowding hers. Our noses so close to touching one another’s. I would do it too.
I hear her intake of breath
. She knows that I mean what I say and that I’m not fucking around. I glance down at her lips, wanting to see her take her next gasp of air. Wanting my lips to supply her that necessity.
The tip of her tongue peeks out on to her lips. She swipes it along her bottom lip, slowly, teasingly. I want that to be my tongue
, tasting her lips. Tasting her essence. My cock starts to harden and I start thinking about all of the things I would do to her. Regretfully, I slowly give her her space back. I turn around, trying to control my aroused self, hoping that she turns to leave and doesn’t see it.
I give her a few minutes to leave before I turn around, my dick the traitor
, still rigid beneath the one hundred percent cotton. I turn my entire body around to verify that she left only to find that she hasn’t. She’s stood still against the wall, frozen. As I begin to question her on why she was still standing there, I realize as I follow the direction her eyes are looking in.
She’s seen it.
IT.
