“Oh gosh, you certainly live in here, that’s for sure.” She chuckles at my clothes which are scattered all over the floor, and she moves past them to open my closet. It’s full of stupid dresses I’ve never worn.
“Oh my God… you do know I work at a fashion magazine, and this is like a wet dream.” She touches a vintage Chanel dress I love but haven’t found a place to wear it.
“You can have whatever you want.”
Her head whips back to me. “You don’t want any of these? You have thousands of dollars in dresses here.”
“Have one. What do I care.” I reach for my drawer, pulling it open and grabbing out my black leather pants. Sliding my work pants off, I get into them quickly. Reaching for a baby blue top on the floor, I take my bra and shirt off, sliding it on. This shirt requires no bra.
“I’m fine with what I have on, but shit damn, Olympia, you’ve got style, girl.” She manages to step away, and when she does, she turns to me. “And a killer body, by the way.” She winks as we walk back out of my apartment.
“So, where are we going?”
“The boys are going to the club. Usually Falcon works from there but tonight we’re celebrating something.”
“Oh, what?”
“Falcon proposed to Ariel last night.”
“She’s the one with the black hair, right?” Storm nods her head. “And he’s the one with the mouth.”
She giggles. “Yep, that’s him all right.”
She walks straight back out to my elevator and turns to look to me.
“You like him, don’t you?”
I know who she’s talking about, Darby, but I play dumb. “Who?” I ask. I don’t know how I feel about him, I’ve only just met him.
“Darby. He’s so mean to you…” she pauses as the elevator comes to a stop, “… but he also stares. It’s weird.” Storm shrugs her shoulders.
“Do you know him well?”
She shakes her head. “Not as well as Ariel, she grew up with them. And, I guess El, she’s close to them as well. Since Creed doesn’t talk much, she seems to do a lot for him.” Storm laughs as we get back into her car. I contemplate her words and how tight-knit they all are for a moment. How she knows exactly about their dynamics, yet I can’t even seem to find a friend in this city.
We pull up to a stop out the front of a club, and Storm parks her car, changes into sky-high heels, and takes her red hair down so it cascades down her back. She turns to me and smiles. “Why the blue hair?”
I run my own hand through my hair which is shorter than hers. “Defiance,” I say smirking. “My father hates my hair colors, and I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager. It’s my own way to rebel, and I guess it’s always stuck with me.”
We walk to the door and are allowed inside, then her hand clasps around mine as she pulls me to the private area at the back where everyone’s seated. Echo stands and pulls Storm to him, his lips smashing against hers. El, who’s sitting next to Creed, smiles and offers me a small wave as she sits sipping her drink. Creed keeps a possessive hand on her thigh. Falcon is making Ariel laugh at something he’s said. But over everything, there’s one set of eyes watching me. They go over every inch of me, assessing me, and so I make my way over and sit right next to him, getting in his space. His whole body locks and goes stiff at my nearness and I smile.
“You look the same,” I say reaching forward for the bottle of vodka and pouring myself a large glass.
A loud crash is heard. A waiter has dropped her whole tray and tears are streaming down her face. Before I can get up, Darby’s there lifting some of the broken glass and placing it on her tray. I look around and everyone’s going about their business and aren’t staring or questioning his motives. Is this normal for him to help? I assumed he was selfish, but maybe I’m wrong. He brushes off his hands and comes back to sit next to me. When he speaks again, I’ve almost forgotten what I just said.
“You look…” He doesn’t finish his words, so I turn back to gaze at him and notice his eyes are firmly on my back. The shirt I’m wearing showcases my whole back, which in turn reveals my tattoo of wings over my shoulders. “Different,” he manages to get out before looking away.
“Would you like one?” I ask, gesturing to my drink.
He turns back to me with a scowl on his face. “No.” Then turns away again.
“Rude,” I say knowing we aren’t at work and I can speak however I choose.