“I don’t think I would have come here if you hadn’t invited me . . . ever,” Reece chides next to me. Dance music blares, making it almost impossible to hear her.
“Hey, it wasn’t exactly my idea. Besides, we’re only staying for a couple hours then we’re leaving.”
She bumps my shoulder when two women in short—barely covers their ass—skirts walk by. It’s something I wouldn’t have worn even if I’d known the place. “Do we have a safe word?”
“A what?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at her. I can’t tell if she’s serious or joking.
“Don’t you read?” Her eyes bug out like I’ve grown two heads right before her eyes or something.
“Yes, I read.” Probably more than I should actually.
“What genre?” she asks, tapping her heel against the hard floor.
I shrug. “Women’s Fiction or Romance mostly. Sometimes James Patterson or John Grisham.”
“No BDSM?” Even in the dimly lit room, the blush on her cheeks is evident.
“No, that’s not really my thing,” I answer, scanning the crowded room for Dana.
She continues, “Safe words are used to get out of uncomfortable situations. For example, I hate dancing so if anyone asks, I’m using our word.”
With a roll of my eyes, I say, “Seriously, Reece? I really don’t think that’s what they’re for.”
“I don’t care. So what’s it going to be?” Dana needs to hurry up. The sooner she gets here, the sooner we can all leave. I want to go home, maybe find Blake, and let him fuck me on the counter like he promised.
“Your pick,” I answer, simply to satisfy her.
She taps her index finger on her chin. It’s entertaining just to watch her spend so much time picking out a word we’ll probably never use. This is nothing but an outdated bar slash dance club . . . not the bedroom. “Pierce.” She says it with so much excitement, you’d think he was an old friend she hadn’t seen in forever standing across the room.
I shake my head, forgoing any response. I wonder what Reece would say if she knew I was going to a benefit with the hot shot CEO this weekend. Trepidation builds inside me every time I think about it. What will people think when I show up with him? What will Blake think?
Cold, bony hands cover my eyes, breaking me away from all thoughts of the upcoming weekend. “Boo!” Dana shouts, giving me my eyesight back.
“I was starting to think you’d punk’d us,” I remark, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Sorry I’m late. I got hung up at home. Wait, who’s us?”
I motion toward Reece. “Dana, meet Reece. Reece, this is Dana, a friend of mine.”
Dana smiles warmly, lifting her hand in a short wave. “The more the merrier.”
Tonight will be fun. Over the years I’ve learned that it’s not so much about where you are as it is who you’re with.
“Let’s grab a booth before there’s none left,” Dana says, motioning for us to follow her.
After we’re seated, the waitress brings us some chips and salsa and takes our order for three margaritas. The first chip tastes like pure salt-covered heaven on my tongue, and before I know it, I’ve downed a handful before Dana and Reece even get a taste.
“What are you guys going to get?” Reece asks.
“Should we order a taco platter? We can share,” Dana suggests. I swear the more time I spend with Dana, the more I like her.
Reece and I both throw down our menus in agreement. The waitress returns to bring our drinks and takes our order. She’s not even a foot away from the table before our lips are plastered against the salted rims. The icy tequila is some of the best I’ve had. Chicago has a one up on Nebraska in the drink department.
“God that’s good,” Reece moans, pressing her thin lips to the rim. She sounds like a woman in the throes of wild sex.
“Well, hurry up and finish those, and then we can have another,” Dana says. She has half her drink gone while Reece and I still savor our first sip.
“You do realize that Reece and I have to work in the morning, don’t you?”
She waves her hand like it’s nothing. “Oh, come on, we’re young enough. We’ll bounce back quick.”
I roll my eyes and take another drink, realizing just how easy it goes down this time. Tomorrow morning is going to come with one hell of a headache.
Our food arrives, and we put it away like a table of post-game football players. It’s been almost eight hours since I ate a few bites of salad . . . anything would taste good to me right now.
“So, Reece, what’s your story?” Dana asks between bites. I’m curious myself since I just met her today.
“All twenty-five years of it, or would you prefer me to narrow it down to one chapter?”
Dana rests her elbows on the table like she’s going to soak up each and every word. “Let’s start with the juicy stuff. Boyfriend? Virgin?”
Reece’s narrows her eyes at her. “Why does everyone assume that I’m a virgin?”
“I’m not assuming anything. Spill.” Dana grabs a handful of chips and sits back like she’s waiting for the main feature at the movie theater.
“I’ve had boyfriends. Lots of them. Like more than I can count on one hand. One was even a football player in high school.” She talks so fast that it’s hard to discern. It’s like she doesn’t necessarily want us to retain it all.
“Do you have one now?” Dana asks, popping yet another chip in her mouth.
Reece snorts. “No, I’m keeping my options open since I just moved here. I don’t want to be tied down right now, you know?”
I pipe in, saving her from more of the Dana inquisition. “I’m the same. The last thing I want to be is tied down. Besides, I just got out of a relationship a few months ago, and it didn’t leave me feeling warm and fuzzy about men.”
The waitress brings yet another round of drinks. The steady stream of tequila is loosening me up . . . a welcome feeling after the past couple weeks.
“Don’t let her fool you,” Dana says to Reece. “Lila’s got a man.”
“Shut it, Dana. I’m not tied to anyone right now.”
She laughs. “Oh, he hasn’t broken the handcuffs out yet and hitched you to his bedpost? Poor girl . . . I totally took him as the type.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”
She scoffs. “Hell no! I work them like monkey bars, jumping from one to the next.”
Reece and I share shocked expressions. Through high school and college, I knew plenty of jumpers but never one that would admit to it.
“Chill out. I don’t end up in bed with all of them.”
As if that makes it any better. Dana and I are different, but sometimes dissimilarity is needed for two parts to fit together. She’s the blank to my tab.
We spend the next hour talking about the duds we’ve dated while on our journey to find Mr. Right. And that just leads to us discussing how Mr. Right probably doesn’t even exist.
After three, or maybe four, margaritas Dana finally convinces Reece and I to join her on the dance floor. I’m uncoordinated, I always have been, but the alcohol gives me enough courage to fake it.
My body flows freely to the beat of the music. The three of us form a circle, laughing and having a good time. Strands of hair fall from my once perfect bun, sticking to my face. The best part of it all is I don’t care . . . alcohol is a wonderful thing.
One song ends and another begins. Unable to make out the words, I close my eyes and let the rhythm carry me. This is freedom at its finest.
“Pierce!” Reece yells. My eyes shoot open, immediately scanning the dance floor. I find her a few feet away, her ass shoved against a guy’s crotch.
My instinct is to laugh, and then I put myself in her shoes. I cringe when strange men touch me. There’s a layer of unpredictability—not knowing the guy’s intentions or where the hell his hands have been. I literally pry Reece from his arms, not stopping until we’re back in our booth.