Wet: Part 2 (23 page)

“I promise. Is that all?”

“Yep.” He hugged her one last time and let her down. “Love you,” he said, as she turned to head toward the van.

She stopped, turned her head back, and stared at him, in shock, not sure she’d heard him right.

“Be safe! I’ll see you tonight.” He slapped her butt to send her on her way. He didn’t seem to realize what he’d said. She looked back several times on her way to the van, but he looked so casual, as if telling her he loved her was an everyday thing. She took one last glance at him before she climbed into the van. He blew her a kiss.

“What’s wrong with him all of a sudden?”

oOo

After a hectic and stressful day, Rhees stared at herself in the mirror.

“Look at you,” Jeannie said. The other girls seemed too excited about the way Rhees turned out.

“Does that mean you didn’t believe it possible I could look this good?” Rhees turned to the other girls. “Who am I kidding?
I
didn’t think I could look this good.” They all laughed.

“Paul will love it,” Liz told her. “You’re a lucky girl. He’s crazy about you.”

After a day of what seemed like endless shopping, the spa—pedicure, manicure, and hair stylist, Rhees liked the way she looked. Her hair hung in loose curls, half up, half down. Her makeup—she usually only wore waterproof mascara—was perfect. Her dress was a bone-colored, slim-fit, spandex, retro Charleston-esque dress—complete with fringe and lacey detail. She’d fallen in love with it and hoped Paul would too.

“He’s never seen me so put together.”

Despite her nagging concerns she’d become too dependent on him, used him to replace her parents’ role in her life, she missed him already. Even when they supposedly hated each other, they’d spent more time together each day than they’d spent together the past week. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

Love you.
His words stuck in her head. She told herself over and over again that he didn’t realize what he’d said. He hadn’t meant to say it. It was just a line like, good-bye, see you later, have fun . . . 
love you
, but every time she thought about it, she couldn’t keep her own feelings from popping to mind.
I love you too, Paul.

oOo

The guys showed up at their respective hotel rooms after cleaning up at the beach house and stopping at a local barber on their way to the hotel. Paul knocked before he entered, cautiously. “Rhees? I’m here. You decent?”

She jumped up from the chair she’d been reading in and stood where he would see her the second he walked in. “Come in.”

Paul froze when he saw her, his mouth gaped, stunned. “You look . . .” He appeared to be at a loss for words. It became awkward after the first minute of silent staring.

“I take that as approval?” Rhees asked. He swallowed, hard, and nodded.

“Approval granted,” Paul finally said, practically drooling. “You look
exquisite
, as always, but . . .
oh my GAWD!
”

“You look quite exquisite yourself, Mister.” Rhees couldn’t stop staring at him either. She almost missed how he went on and on about the way she looked.

Paul wore his black jeans, and a fitted black dress shirt, tails un-tucked as usual, and unbuttoned to the small smattering of hair on his chest. His shark tooth necklace almost glowed against the dark color of his clothes. He wore his leather flip flops. They were brown . . . and they were flip flops, and wouldn’t normally be considered the right shoes for the outfit, but it was . . . so very beautifully Paul.

Paul also wore a blazer, black with a subtle sheen. She’d never seen him wear one, and it took her breath away. Even with his un-tucked shirt and flip flops . . . the jacket, his new short hairstyle, and the cleanest shave she’d ever seen on him, she could have attacked him right then, but he’d left her too breathless to move.

Chapter 19

R
hees had never been to a club. Tanked was the closest she’d ever come, but this club was nothing like Tanked—
absolutely
nothing like it. The place intimidated her a little and she allowed Paul to lead her around like a puppy on a leash.

“You need a drink,” he said, noticing her muddled nerves.

“Yes, please.” The spa had provided champagne, but she no longer felt it. She welcomed alcohol’s promise to relieve her anxiety. It had been a stressful day with the girls. Most women lived for days like she’d had, but Rhees wasn’t used to the pressures of the female bonding rituals.

Her appearance also left her ill at ease. She liked the way she’d turned out. She liked the way Paul liked how she turned out, but she noticed more and more how much attention she drew from too many strangers, and it made her jittery. On the other hand, girls at the club weren’t sneering at her quite as obviously as the girls on the island usually did. First they’d give Paul a thorough ogling, and then they’d look her over, judging as to whether she deserved to be on his arm or not—apparently, most seemed to accept that she did, for a change.

Paul, his friends, and their dates, spread out around the table and talked over the loud music. The first round of drinks went fast, and the guys all went to the bar to get more because the waitress took too long to come back around. She showed up right after the men left, so the girls ordered as well. Once the waitress realized what good tippers the guys were, she didn’t make the mistake of neglecting them again. They were all feeling pretty good in no time, especially Rhees, who usually never had more than a glass of wine or a beer or two, if she drank at all.

Taylor, in one of his animated, drama queen rants, knocked over a drink, spilling it all over the table.

“I’ll be right back.” Paul leaned to speak in Rhees’ ear before he stood. “I’ll grab more napkins.”

“Rhees,” Ashley yelled from across the table. “Ask Paul to score us some coke while he’s up. I heard he has connections.” Ashley watched with a smug expression, waiting to see how Paul would react. He jerked around to face her, fury in his eyes, but the guys all jumped up, ready for some damage control—to make sure Ashley’s face didn’t get damaged. They’d never known him to hit a woman, but they also knew what a touchy subject Ashley had hit on.

“I don’t want a Coke,” Rhees yelled over the music, innocently. “Tonight, I’m having what all the big kids are drinking. I’m buzzed enough I don’t mind the taste of alcohol anymore.”

Paul’s icy glare melted and evaporated immediately, and he couldn’t help but smile at her. The guys all looked at him as if asking if she was for real.

“Where do I get me one of those?” David leaned in and asked.

“Well, I’m still trying to figure out how I got so lucky to have her land in my lap, but you have to wait for them to fall out of the sky.”

“You’re saying she’s a fallen angel?”

“Hell no.” Paul looked offended. “She was obviously pushed—all the other angels were jealous.” Paul grinned triumphantly and reached for Rhees’ hand.

“Let’s dance, Princess Dani Girl.” He towed Rhees out to the dance floor, the coke episode forgotten—well, maybe not completely, not until he pointed both hands at Ashley with a sneer, and one finger on each hand, the middle finger—after that, it was forgotten.

Later that night, after even more drinks, Rhees dragged Paul out onto the dance floor again. Rhees started out dancing with him the conventional way, but feeling the freedom too much alcohol grants those who indulge, she kicked off her shoes, flinging them from her feet, back to their table, and began to move as the music moved her.

The music inspired her into some kind of ballet, modern jazz dance routine and he lost her to another world. The way she moved captivated him, strangely fluid and graceful against the contradictory loud, thrumming drone of the club music. She twirled and melted to the floor, onto her stomach before arching her back, farther and farther, folding into a backbend before defying all natural human body movement by rolling onto the tops of her feet before popping to a standing position. Without missing a beat, she resumed her elegant, flowing dance.

“Ouch,” someone watching from the side yelled. “That’s gotta hurt.”

A few people continued trying to dance on the fringes of the floor, but even they watched the girl whose body had become a work of art in motion. She exhibited no sign of clumsiness or inebriation through her movement but everyone knew she’d had too much to drink because a sober person just didn’t dance like that at a club.

Paul stopped trying to keep up and moved to the side, blending in with the rest of the spectators and watched in awe. Taylor moved to stand at his side, and to admire the show.

She tired and finally slowed to a tranquil sway with the pounding rhythm. Taylor and Paul both took a step toward her before stopping to glare at each other. Paul smacked Taylor’s chest with the back of his hand.

“I told you. No sharing.” Paul glared at him.

“Just want one dance, bro,” Taylor said. Paul’s expression was lethal, inviting Taylor to rile him up even more.

Still lost in the world of music, a pair of hands slipped around Rhees’ waist from behind and swayed with her. She leaned back into the hard body behind her, and moaned. The hands ran up and down her torso, sensuously.

Paul and Taylor noticed at the same time. While they’d been posturing with each other, some creepazoid had moved in on Rhees and had his hands all over her. She swayed against him with her eyes closed and rolled her neck to the side, offering it to the mouth about to kiss it.

Paul and Taylor, together, flew across the dance floor. Paul peeled Rhees away from the man before the creep had a chance to register what happened, while Taylor’s fist landed on the stranger’s jaw, knocking him to the floor. Rhees’ blurry mind scrambled to make sense of how Paul could be standing in front of her, his arms around her, protectively, when only a second before he had been caressing her from behind.

She stared, first at Paul, then to Taylor, then to the man on the floor, and back to Paul again, before the look on her face distorted to alarm, and panic, and then terror.

She struggled against Paul, screeching, but Paul had already anticipated her reaction. He picked her up in his arms and headed toward the entrance of the club.

Other men from the club noticed how Taylor had attacked their friend and began gathering to defend their buddy. Bryce hurried to usher the other girls toward the door, and David ran to get Taylor out of there. They all met on the street where Paul still held Rhees in his arms, cooing to her about how it was over and it would be all right, but she’d already calmed down.  

She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and leaned against him. “I’m all right,” she slurred and giggled. “I just found another thing alcohol is useful for. Wish I’d known that a looong . . . long time ago.”

They flagged a taxi and jumped in, discussing how lucky they were to make it out alive.

“What now?” Bryce asked.

“How about another club?” David suggested.

“How about a nice, quiet bar? That was the worst clubbing experience I’ve ever had in my life,” Ashley said.

The guys all laughed at their private joke about her. 

“I vote for quiet,” Paul said. He frowned to realize he and the Ash-bitch were on the same page for once. 

“I wanna dance!” Rhees yelled and gave Paul a kiss on his cheek.

oOo

“How are you feeling?” Paul hadn’t given Rhees more than a half an inch of space since they left the club and found a decent bar.

“I need a drink.” 

Paul laughed as he watched her carefully. “You’re pretty drunk. Can you handle another drink?”

“I have it in me for at least one more before I throw up.” She laughed, thinking her comment funnier than he did.

Eventually, Rhees made her way to the jukebox, picked out a song and turned to Paul, who didn’t take his eyes off of her. She called him over with her finger, seductively, and he didn’t hesitate to heed her call.

“You ready for your public debut?” She giggled.
“There, There”
by Radiohead started to play.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter how ready I am. You’ll eclipse me no matter how I do.”

Rhees, feeling the influence of what she called the cure for stage fright, let go and danced the way she did during the dance contest at the Emerald Starfish, only this time, Paul finally got to see it up close as her partner.

Her stilettos didn’t slow her down and even made her look more like a real ballroom dancer. They matched her dress perfectly, but they’d been a peer pressure purchase. She knew she would never wear them again, as they were so wrong for the island, but the girls had insisted she couldn’t go clubbing without them and her new dress.

The song ended, but Paul pulled her into his arms and they danced slowly, even though the next song was a fast one. He wanted an excuse to hold her.

“I never want to dance with anyone else,” she said as she nestled her cheek into his shoulder. They danced to several more songs before making their way back to the table.

“You guys should audition for one of those dance shows on TV,” Liz said and Jeannie agreed.

“Pfft!” Paul dismissed their compliments. He refused to accept any of the credit, insisting that Rhees just made him look good.

“Rhees didn’t make his hips move like that,” Liz said to Jeannie and they both laughed.

“I don’t think they’d allow someone on the show who couldn’t dance without getting smashed first.” Rhees giggled and swayed in spite of Paul’s arm around her.

Taylor kept ordering drinks, and Paul and Rhees both ended up drinking more than just one more. Later, every girl in the bar whooped and hollered when the Testosterfest guys took off their shirts, got up on the bar, and danced. They all had the moves, and their dates had to get territorial with some of the other girls in the joint.

They stood guard in front of the bar, rallying particularly with Liz since Taylor actually encouraged girls, other than his date, to slip dollar bills into his pants. He’d hold their hands
there
while Liz and her friends tore the other girls away. He’d pretend to feel sorry for the castoffs, crowing about what they’d miss out on.

“Try again next year,” he yelled.

Paul didn’t really want to do it. He’d tried to talk them out of it, but they insisted they couldn’t pass up the opportunity to act as juvenile as possible their last night of Testosterfest. For someone usually the essence of alpha male, Paul had trouble saying no to his three friends.

Rhees laughed affectionately at his embarrassed discomfort when he started out, knowing his shy side didn’t like being so openly on display, but he eventually got into it and had no trouble keeping up with the other three, confirming alcohol really was a miracle cure for stage fright.

“Wow. You really have the hots for him, don’t you? How long have you two been together?” Jeannie asked, and Rhees blushed at getting caught staring at him. Jeannie smiled knowingly. “You look like you’re in heat.”

Rhees’ gaze darted downward, ready to mask her reaction, to hide it from Jeannie because people tended to get weird when she freaked out about all things sexual . . . but to her astonishment, she didn’t freak out. The only thing on her mind was the possibility Jeannie could be right. Rhees glanced back up and smiled guiltily. 

“I don’t blame you. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Bryce, and all the guys are gorgeous, but I think Paul has something extra special about him.”

Rhees glared.

“No. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not after him. I’m trying to tell you, you’re a lucky girl, that’s all.”

“Sorry, I just get so tired sometimes. He’s constantly bombarded with unwanted advances from other women.”

“I see why—but I would never try to steal him away from you—as if I could. And the fact other women’s advances are unwanted only confirms what I’m saying. It’s obvious he’s really into you.”

Rhees liked hearing it and turned to watch him again. She thought about what Jeannie had just said, about being in heat and believed she’d just experienced a miracle. She felt cured, cured by the miracle of alcohol and a perfect, beautiful man named Paul.

By two fifteen, everyone, except Taylor, agreed to call it a night. Taylor went along with the decision but relentlessly heckled his friends, calling them a bunch of pussies all the way back to the hotel.