“And here I thought I was going to be the lush,” I tease as we break for air.
We take a second and then a third shot in rapid succession. Charlie told me that he tended to be in the work hard, party harder camp, but that implied that there was eventually a party.
“Let's dance!” he shouts over the music and I follow him onto the dance floor. This is a completely different side to Charlie that I haven’t gotten to see, and I love every part of him.
He keeps my body close to his as we move with the music. One leg is between mine as his hand is palmed against my bare back, holding me close. Periodically, his mouth finds mine, his tongue slipping between my lips. The friction of him between my legs makes my head swim, but I hold on to him. At first, Charlie can’t keep his eyes off me, his brown eyes locked with my own as we do what can only be described as eye fucking. Eventually, his eyes slip closed, giving in entirely to the beat of the music and the sway of the bodies around us.
Occasionally, other guys will try to dance around us, often quickly getting the hint that our party is invite only, and for now, there are no invitations. Another man comes up and starts grinding against me, sandwiching me against Charlie. I’m out of space to get closer to Charlie in an effort to get away from him, but this guy won’t take the hint. The motions he’s going through aren’t so much dancing as he’s blatantly dry humping me, his erection pressing against my ass with each thrust.
Charlie’s eyes open, finding mine after sensing my unease, the change in the way I’m dancing. His eyes flash to the guy over my shoulder.
“She’s taken,” Charlie shouts. He’s short of lifting me off the floor when he starts to pivot me away, neither one of us looking to get thrown out for a confrontation with this guy. Charlie might be a high roller, but at a club like this, he’s hardly the only one. The guy runs a free hand along my side, and my insides crawl from the unwelcome touch.
“No reason you can’t share,” he says, and I feel several shades of disgust.
“How about I’m not interested,” I shout, pivoting again.
“Sounds like a good enough reason for me. Get lost,” Charlie shouts, no longer dancing.
The guy stops dancing. “Stuck up, bitch,” he shouts at me before turning to dance with someone else.
Charlie looks like he wants to go after the guy but I grab his arm and shake my head.
“He’s not worth it. Let’s get another drink. I’m thirsty, anyway.” My mood is killed. I’m eager to get some water and then work on getting my buzz back. I pour Charlie another drink and instead of a lime, I cover his mouth with mine. He greedily takes the kiss, leaning back, pulling me with him, so the length of my body is pressed against his. We sit back down beside Taryn, drinks in our hands. Charlie’s arm is around me, resting on my hip, his fingertips teasing the hem of my dress.
More of their friends have shown up and I start chatting with them, learning more about Charlie in college. I’m more relaxed now, liquid courage burning through my veins. I feel more on equal footing with his friends now, drinking at a club, than I did when we were dressed in our finest at the engagement party. They talk about his role in getting an army of goats unleashed on campus as a senior prank, the vacations that they took together, the drunken frat parties. We’re all laughing for a moment, totally at ease.
“Remember that time you and Ains got caught doing the Dartmouth Seven?”
Charlie’s face instantly sours and Taryn goes still beside me. I don’t know who the person is that’s talking, just that he’s one of the fraternity brothers. I may not know what that is, but from the reactions, I have my own assumptions.
“I was there, in the stacks, when you made her scream like that. I mean, you promised you would share your tricks.” The guy stands and grinds his hips against the air like he’s smacking an ass.
“That was hardly the position he had me in,” a female voice says, and I shouldn’t be surprised to see Ainsley in a gold glitter dress, radiant like the sun. Her blonde hair is braided in a crown around her head. Her steps are uneven, like she pre-gamed before coming here, but her intention is clear. She moves straight to Charlie, straddling him before leaning back, grabbing the collar of his shirt, and swinging her legs up so her ankles are on his shoulders. I watch as she grinds her hips against my boyfriend and my skin flushes with anger and embarrassment.
I’m shocked dumb that she would do that. I like to think that I would be clever and witty should a situation like this ever happen to me, but I’m not some heroine, ready with a comeback at all times. I can only watch, horrified, that this is happening.
“It was more like this,” Ainsley says, her voice husky as she swivels her hips again.
Charlie is beet red, his hands not touching her intentionally. The rest of the group is stunned silent. The guy who started this story sits, unsure of what to do next.
When Charlie doesn’t say anything, one of my friends jumps in. “Ainsley, this is Elia, Charlie’sgirlfriend,” Taryn says frostily.
It was nearly worth Charlie not saying anything to watch as Ainsley nearly falls over backward getting off him. I love Taryn for not saying I’m his new girlfriend or limiting our time together. I am his girlfriend and that’s what matters. When Ainsley scrambles off Charlie, standing before him, I notice the bulge in his pants and look away, embarrassed by the whole situation. Ainsley looks at me, recognition flaring. I must not have been clear with her the night of the engagement party last week.
Who did she think I was when we met? Did she think Charlie picked up some random girl to bring to the party to make her jealous? A sick thought hits me: is that what Jack told her?
“Girlfriend?” she sputters, her eyes flashing to Jack, then back to me and Charlie. She notices how his arm is around my shoulder and she takes one stumbling step back.
“I am,” she starts, closing her eyes, and taking a breath, “sosorry.” She turns to leave. Jack jumps up and grabs her arm. She yanks it out of his hand, and for a second I think she might punch him. I wish she would.
“Fuck off, Jack,” she spits, before heading for the door.
Even with the noise of the club, our group is subdued, still trying to figure out what to do next. I hate the curious glances at Charlie and me, waiting to see how we both react to this heinous situation. The guy who started all this rightfully looks embarrassed and takes a sip of his drink.
“So, uh, tonight’s on me,” he says, forcing a laugh. The waitress is taking a peek at our bottles to see if we need anything more, so he seizes on the opportunity to switch cards.
I want to ask her if there is somewhere I could disappear to, away from the prying eyes. I put my hand on Charlie’s leg. “Are you okay?” I ask, trying not to think about how many times Charlie and I have been in that exact position.