Page 79 of Undone

We all pause, picturing her absurd statement then break out in hysterics. “Dick in a box!” Keisha sings, dancing around.

And something else breaks in me. All of the hate and anger I’ve been holding in, it comes out in hysterical laughter until I can’t breathe. “Luce? Luce!” Sara shakes me.

“I’m fine. You know what? I’m really fine. I’m glad I came. I needed this. I don’t have a group of friends like this in Springdale yet.”

“What about Devon and that girl, Shanna?”

“Yeah right. They’re addicted to dick. It spreads like a fever. They’ve both blown me off more times than my ex, James, ever did.”

“Ouch,” Tanya cringes.

“Exactly. Enough about me. Thank you for letting me have my pity-party. But we have a bachelorette night ahead, right? Let’s go!”

“Woot!” Amy grabs a feather boa and spreads it around Tanya’s bare shoulders. She adds a fake diamond crown on her head and grabs a few drinks. “Roadies! Our limo is out front!” She refills our plastic cups with the fruity concoction, and we stumble out into the hallway not even caring that none of us bring coats.

We laugh our way inside the limo, where Tanya mentions Vito booked a table for us at Fiore’s. It’s a known mafia run restaurant, but the food is amazing.

After we eat, the evening truly begins.

Tanya shushes us—confiding she arranged an Uber so we can ditch the “made” limo driver and avoid Vito’s eyes and ears.

We were going clubbing.

And I couldn’t wait.

Maybe letting go on the dance floor, laughing and having a few drinks—will help me—feel like me again.

The beat of the blaring music moves through me as fast as the alcohol I’ve consumed. The lights are dim, the strobe lights bounce across the mirrored ceiling, and over sweaty bodies moving on the packed dance floor; mine included.

I can’t hear a word Tanya says, I just nod my head and keep dancing. A hand snakes around me from behind, pulling me close against a hard body. I’d grind with whoever it is—if his boner wasn’t pressed up against my ass as if it has a right to be there.

“Hey!” I yell, turning. My eyes fly wide. “It’s you.”

Brett grins, his perfect teeth flashing white against the strobe lights. But I can’t say I’m thrilled to see one of the many men I’ve dated who strung me along only to let go, when they spotted something shinier dangling from their line.

He leans down to my ear, “Luce! I can’t believe it’s you. I thought you were out west.”

“I was—I am.”

His hand wanders lower, pulling my pelvis flush against his. “Let’s dance, baby.”

He’s drunk and sloppy.

Even his expensive clothes, cologne, and perfectly tousled hair can’t make up for it. I feel repulsed instead of turned-on, by the huge tent in his pants poking me.

My palms push against his chest, “Actually, I need a break.” He pretends not to hear me and puts his hands on my ass, grinding his cock into me as his mouth finds my neck. I lean back and bring my knee up at the same time a large hand lands on Brett’s shoulder.

“Take a break.”

I look up, startled to find the handsome stranger I saw outside the café earlier. He’s staring at Brett as if he’s seconds away from breaking his nose. Maybe he will.

“Fuck off,” Brett throws the guys’ arm off and attempts to grab me again.

But he can’t.

The man picks him up by the collar, three inches off the floor, and flings him carelessly away. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I’m good.”

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