Prepped For Love: BWWM Pregnancy Romance Novel (16 page)

Finally, Greta decided to leave Genevieve so she could get back to work. She was more than excited about the chance to go out with her new bestie.  Greta might’ve been a little off, but she was genuine about how much she liked Genevieve. At least that's what Genevieve thought. There was something about Greta that could cause you to open up and tell her all your secrets. Sure, Greta might’ve been a little odd but everyone needs that one odd friend right? Genevieve was starting to work herself up to being excited to get to know Greta better over a few drinks and a hot sweaty night of salsa dancing.

The rest of the day at work seemed to drag on. Genevieve was forced to think about her past, both her romantic past and otherwise. There was a point in time when Genevieve was the life of the party. She was the girl you could always rely on to show up with 10 of her hottest best friends. She was the girl you could rely on to say from opening of the club to the close. Of course, that was college. After college and after struggling through grad school while try to work two jobs, Genevieve had calmed down quite a bit. She was no longer the last at the party. She was the person that couldn't wait to go home at 5 o’clock to eliminate the stress of the work day. Her social life was nonexistent.

Genevieve used have great dreams. Just want to be a
famous
editor. She wanted so much out of life and now it seemed like there was no moving up as quickly as she wanted to. All of Genevieve’s old friends had started families. They didn’t care about career advancement; they didn’t have any of the lofty goals that Genevieve did. Genevieve felt like she was being punished for her position. She could either have one thing or another, but she couldn’t have it all.

Evening. After work. Genevieve had pulled herself together in less than an hour and despite that, she felt what she has looked good. She had bought the dress off an Instagram boutique.  Even if she hadn’t tried it on before that night, it fit her perfectly. The dress was a deep cocoa brown, nearly the color of Genevieve skin. It hugged her curves in all the right places. She was one intense makeup look away from being a model. But as usual, she only added a little mascara. Still, Genevieve felt out of place in the salsa club once she got there. This just wasn’t her scene at all and she couldn’t believe she had agreed to go out with Greta like this.  What the hell was she doing in a club trying to meet guys? Genevieve knew she would never find any man worth her time in a place like this.

A popular, overplayed salsa song
La Vida Es Un Carnaval
blared through the speakers. Celia Cruz’s baritone sounded phenomenal, but Genevieve was too uncomfortable to pay her voice much attention. The lights in the club were dim except for a couple flashing green and red lights. It looked like a scene right out of Havana or Santo Domingo. Except no one in the club cared if you were Latino or not. In the dim light, anyone who could speak Spanish was Spanish. Anyone who could dance salsa belonged.  The club was filled with Cubans, Dominicans, Panamanians, Puerto Ricans and more.  Anyone who bumped into Genevieve’s thought she was their Dominican cousin or something.
Negrita! Negrita!
She  she couldn’t count how many times she had the word hurled at her as some suave Latino man tried to have his way. If only it weren’t for the language barrier, Genevieve would’ve found plenty of them physically attractive. But Genevieve knew a serious man like the one she wanted wouldn't get caught dead here.

It was still early in the night, but the smell of sweat was already starting to permeate the room. Dancing salsa was a workout no doubt.  Genevieve couldn’t help but wonder why on earth Greta brought her here. Genevieve didn’t know much salsa. She had taken one class and she was absolutely terrible. Despite all her years of childhood ballet, when she got on the dance floor with an instructor who expected her body to know movement intuitively, she had two left feet.  Genevieve wanted nothing more than to plaster herself against the walls and not move until Greta decided was time for them to go home.

Genevieve looked over the dance floor at the scene before her…

The men populating the club seemed confident to the point of arrogance and had no qualms about feeling up every woman they danced with.  Their hands wandered over hips and cupped butt cheeks confidently.  Each man knew that once a woman agreed to dance with him, it would be far too difficult for her to get away. They touched and felt their curves as if the women were their property. At least that’s how Genevieve saw it.

Genevieve wasn’t a prude (in her mind), but she considered herself to be too classy to be felt up by a guy who’d spent the entire night feeling up ten other girls just like her. She didn’t want to be a notch in some guy’s belt. Greta ordered them both cosmopolitans and they sat at the bar. Genevieve didn’t like cosmpolitans as much as she liked a simple rum and coke but she didn’t want to piss Greta off. After all, she was already being a party pooper and she could tell Greta was getting tired of babysitting her.

Greta decided to stimulate Genevieve into action.  She wanted that girl to get some dick! “Look at that guy damn he’s so fucking hot!” Greta yelled loud enough for the guy to hear her if he’d been listening. It was amazing how her raspy voice seemed to carry even over blaring speakers. Genevieve looked over at the man Greta was trying to point out to her. Meh. Sure on the outside he was pretty attractive. He was taller than average and oozed sensuality which Genevieve interpreted as being sleazy. She hated guys that walked around thinking they were God’s gift to earth. Whatever happened to a little humility?

“Looks like kind of a sleaze ball,” Genevieve mumbled dismissively. But Greta wasn’t listening to her. She was just staring at the man making his way around the dancefloor like a pro. The suave gentleman's name was Sam Andover. He was tall, tanned lightly with green eyes that seemed to gleam even in the dimness of the bar. He was clearly muscular and athletic, an all around gorgeous guy.  Sam Andover had been coming to this club for over 10 years. It was his usual after work way to let loose. He was extroverted and charismatic; he fit in well amongst the more commonly found Latino people despite the difference in culture. He could move on the dance floor better than anyone, and for that reason alone he was accepted with warmth. Genevieve didn’t know this as she watched him, but he was a man could trust; the frequent visitors of the salsa club could sense how trustworthy he was. Every single woman would let him dip her low so much so that her head would almost touch the ground. He was the kind of guy you could trust not to let go.

But Genevieve had already determined he was a sleaze and as they continued to stare at him, both her and Greta noticed that he had flirted intensely with maybe five or six of the girls he danced with.
Probably trying to sleep with all of them.
Genevieve had thought to herself.  Even if Genevieve was judging him, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. He hooked her in. He had a magnetic personality and every single woman in the room was becoming more and more aware of him. He dominated the room like it was second nature.

Women were trying their best to strut their stuff, but they didn’t decide whether or not Sam Andover approached them. It was all up to him. He was choosing from the pack of ravenous broads. That's why Genevieve was surprised when Sam approached her and asked her to dance. Although "ask" is a strong word for what happened. Sam reached for her hand and before she knew it she was in his arms. Genevieve didn’t even know his name…

Sam had sought her out in a crowd full of women were more dressed up and more conventionally beautiful. He had looked past the blondes, the brunettes, the beautiful Latina beauty queens. He had looked past the girls who belonged on the covers of magazines and locked eyes with Genevieve. In that moment, he decided that he needed to dance with her. It wasn’t love at first sight or anything. But she have a look in her eyes that said she was different. She looked a little bit out of place. She was clearly unfamiliar and that added an aura of mystery to her. What’s more, Genevieve wasn’t like these other girls. It wasn’t like the way these other girls were was wrong… Her differences just made her stand out. What kind of woman goes to the club with no makeup on? What kind of woman goes to the club without skanky heels on? Why haven’t I seen this woman before? Those were the strange kind of traits that drew Sam to Genevieve when he first stood 2 feet in front of her face and asked her, “Quieres bailar?” His accent was atrocious and he broke out into the biggest smile as if he knew just how bad it was.

Maybe he thought she was Spanish, maybe he didn’t know and didn’t care. But before Genevieve knew it, she was holding on for dear life in trying her best to keep time with the music.

His hands were little bit sweaty, but within a few seconds Genevieve found that she didn’t care. She just wanted him to Put. Her. Down.  There was no time to protest though. The music was speeding up faster and faster. Damn you Marc Anthony!  Genevieve was hustling back and forth and spinning around and around. She almost felt sick to her stomach. The smell of the room and the smell of Sam specifically filtered through her nostrils. She couldn’t tell which was which. Was he sweet or bitter?  Why the hell did he have to spin her around so goddamn fast?

A brief moment to catch her breath emerged as the song slowed down. Sam looked at her with a devilish grin on his face as if he enjoyed making her work hard to keep up with him.  He tried to maintain eye contact with Genevieve but she looked away in silent protest. His hands clasped hers tightly. She couldn’t help but notice how strong he was. Even if she wanted to just be let go, she couldn’t ignore how safe she felt in his arms… But who did he think he was?

As he swung her around like a rag doll, Sam was actually trying to start a conversation with Genevieve. It was hard to imagine. She could barely catch her breath and here he was trying to talk with her as if this were a stroll through the park.  It wasn’t that Sam meant to be rude. He was infused with energy from the beat of the music. This was his favorite after work hangout and he wanted to share the excitement with everyone. Manners escaped him sometimes… He had grown up rough around the edges. Deep down, he was a good guy, but he lacked some finesse. Genevieve couldn’t see any of that. She just saw him as an attractive man, and most certainly a womanizer. She vowed to remain closed off to him even as he swung her around for a second song…

Sam tried to ask her, “so what do you do for a living?

Genevieve narrowly avoided stomping on his feet she huffed, “I’m a writer…”

Maybe she would have elaborated if she had enough oxygen in her lungs.

Sam was still trying to make eye contact with her. He asked Genevieve more, “Yeah? That sounds like kind of a lonely career for a woman as beautiful as you are…”

How corny! Did that guy really think that cheap line would work on her? Genevieve was miffed that he had even tried it. He probably approached her because he saw her as some ugly desperate low-self-esteem having woman he was trying to get in bed with because he perceived her as easy. Genevieve’s face turned sour.

She had read it all wrong again.

“It’s not lonely…” Genevieve lied.

In time with the music, Sam pulled her in close and whispered into her ear, “A woman like you could never be lonely…”

Another corny line. Really? Genevieve was starting to wonder what she did to deserve such a cheese ball. Sam dipped her low to the ground. Genevieve’s heart didn’t miss a beat. Even in her anger she implicitly trusted him not to drop her.

After they had danced for a couple more songs, Genevieve felt like she’d overstayed her time in his arms. Plus, she wasn’t very good at dancing salsa and she felt a little seasick from all the spinning. She gently pulled away from Sam, thinking and hoping that he wouldn’t try to approach her
again.
Genevieve was starting to feel the liquor anyways. She always knew she was getting drunk when the urge to drink Henny crept up. She fumbled until she got to the bar but Greta was not where she expected.

The entire time that Genevieve had been dancing with Sam, Greta was stewing. She couldn’t believe Genevieve had the
hottest
guy in the bar come up to her. Greta was the one who had been eyeing him and she felt entitled to at least a moment of his time. Of course, when he sauntered over to Genevieve, Greta thought he had been coming over to her.

Maybe it was a pity dance or something.
Greta thought to herself. But it didn’t look like a pity dance. Greta was envious. Greta downed three more cosmopolitans while Sam and Genevieve danced. The way that guy was looking at Genevieve made it seem like he was actually into her. Greta was baffled! She didn’t think Genevieve was
that
ugly, but she was acting like a shrinking violet the entire night. She didn’t seem like the type of woman who would attract someone like that emerald eyed adonis who was touching her waist ever so gently…

Greta was pissed off. Whenever she didn’t make “her kill” she worked it off by finding one or two more guys to take home that night. By the time Genevieve returned from her sweaty dance with Sam, Greta was gone…

She was meeting up with her “man for the night”. He was the guy that every woman has… That guy you can call whenever you’re feeling lonely and he’ll come right over and warm up your bed no matter what. Greta had no real interest in Erwin. He was pasty, underweight and blond with no backbone whatsoever. He had been pining after Greta for ten years. Of course she slept with him, but she never agreed to go the distance with Erwin no matter how desperate he was to marry her.

Erwin was one of those guys who thought he deserved everything because he was “nice”. But that’s all Erwin was. He was just a “nice” guy with no interests. All he wanted was some woman to become completely consumed with. Greta had no intention of ever becoming “consumed” by the little shrimp. But during times like this when she felt rejected by better prospects, Greta returned to her old watering hole.

While Genevieve kept herself steady against the bar she saw Greta flirting with Erwin in a corner. She had no idea who Erwin was. She just assumed that Greta was off flirting with some man who was twice her age. She was just glad she hadn't lost sight of Greta in the crowded club. Genevieve felt like the liquor was taking hold of her. She ordered a glass of Hennessy. She was already out, getting a little tipsy would at least make the club more bearable. Between the time she had ordered and received her drink, Genevieve had already turned down three other guys.