One
River
PAST
MY FIST CONNECTS WITH THE fucker’s nose. The crunch of bone is satisfying as it gives beneath my knuckles. I haven’t even pulled my fist from his face yet and I already want to do it again.
Expletives burst from his mouth as blood trickles down his nose. The flashing colored lights from the disco balls above us wash the blood in different shades of red. One hand clutches his broken nose while the other rises to backhand me. I gear up, ready to take the slap, but a hand shoots out to catch his arm. Said hand is attached to a man whose looks rival a god. I give him a once over and I’m immediately attracted to him.
He’s the dark, rugged type. The type your mom insists is bad for you even though she secretly wants to fuck him, too. Well above six feet, with dark hair and pretty eyes. I’m willing to bet the fake diamond ring on my finger that he has a wicked smirk capable of disintegrating any straight female’s panties off.
I turn and walk away. I don’t even say thank you.
“Girl, can we go out just once without you murdering a guy’s nose?” my best friend, Amelia, playfully pleads from beside me. It’s our freshman year of college and I managed to land the best roommate. I never had friends before her.
I snort. “Apparently not. It’s not my fault he was grabbing my tit. We’d been dancing for literally thirty-eight seconds,” I say with exasperation.
“Thirty-eight seconds, huh?” Amelia repeats, cocking a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. I’d kill for her eyebrows.
“I was counting to an appropriate time to move on to the next guy, but I suppose I shouldn’t be so gracious next time.”
She tips her head back and laughs. I grab her hand and guide her the rest of the way through the crowd and up to the bar. I shoulder-check a few on the way since saying “excuse me” politely only grants me a dirty look and silence.
I’d never been the patient type, anyway.
When I reach the bar, I lean over, showing an ample amount of cleavage and wait for the bartender to notice me. Impatiently, might I add.
The bartender that notices me first is a chick. Honey blonde hair, hazel eyes and a dainty nose ring. She glances down at what I’m offering. When I chose my skin-tight, emerald green dress, it was specifically for the way it makes my ass and tits look photoshopped.
One… two… and here she comes.
I return her wicked smile.
“Two Long Islands, please,” I order.
“Sure thing,” she says, adding a saucy smile. I like her.
“And two lemon drops!” Amelia shouts from beside me when the bartender turns to make our drinks. She acknowledges Amelia’s request with a sexy wink. I lick my lips in response.
“You’re determined to give me a hangover, aren’t you?” I complain to Amelia, still eyeing the bartender. Her ass is cupped perfectly by her ripped jean shorts. I pull my eyes away, refusing to leer like the dirty men invading this club like cockroaches.
“Says the bitch ordering a Long Island. You only need two of those and you’re on your ass.”
I sniff. “Whatever.”
The bartender comes back with our requests, sliding them towards us. Before I can say thank you, another girl is calling her away. One with a much curvier body and gorgeous red hair.
I’d ignore me for her, too.
“River, quit eye fucking the bartender. You’re not even into girls,” Amelia chides. I slurp at my Long Island, ignoring the people wanting to get in to order their drinks.
She’s kind of right. I’ve never been with a girl. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t.
“How are you and David doing?” I ask, changing the subject. She and her boyfriend have been together for a couple years and were best friends for even longer. The puppy love hasn’t faded even to this day, despite his parents not approving of her.
A dreamy look takes over her eyes, and just for a split second, I want to stab my straw in them. Not any reflection on her or her boyfriend. I love them both.
But I’m jealous.
I’ve never had that. Not with any man. And sometimes—well, sometimes it fucking hurts.
The feeling fades in plumes of smoke when a gorgeous smile spreads across her face. After all, her happiness does bring me peace. Stars twinkle in her eyes when I mention David. If I could snatch a couple from the sky and put them in her eyes, it’d only tarnish the glow. Amelia hasn’t had the easiest childhood, either. She deserves someone who will love her unconditionally.
“He’s amazing,” she croons. “He’s taking me on a surprise date tomorrow. Won’t tell me what it is. I even coerced him with a blowjob.”
I cock an eyebrow. “And it didn’t work?”
A blush creeps into her cheeks and a guilty smile tugs at her lips. “It kind of backfired. He ended up making me completely forget about it, actually.”
I laugh at her sheepishness. “That sounds like a good problem to have,” I comment, gulping more of my Long Island down.
I should slow down.
“You should slow down,” Amelia says, echoing my exact thoughts. I swear the bitch can read my mind sometimes.
“I should,” I agree half-heartedly.
But I don’t.
CALABRIA BY ENUR PULSES through the surround sound and into my veins. My vision is blurred, and Amelia is somewhere behind me trailing along, just as inebriated as I am. My body threatens to move to the beat before I’ve fully made it to the dance floor. The crowd claps along with the beat, and I spot a few girls bust moves that would land me in a hospital.
I get lost in the crowd and I finally let loose.
My hands rise as my hips seek each beat. I sway and twirl to the upbeat song, laughing as my world spins. I’m free. Unchained from life and all its expectations as my feet carry me across the dirty dance floor.
I feel the touch on my still-raised hands first, light and sensual. His fingers skim the ring on my finger, but it doesn’t deter him. I wear it for that exact purpose, but it doesn’t always work. Something tells me h
e knows it’s fake. I don’t know how, but I can feel it in the way his hands trail my body like he’s daring me to say no.
I don’t dare look at my next victim behind me. I begin to count as his hands trail down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Down my sides and across my hips.
Eight, nine, ten…