Page 8 of Resilient Love

“And miss out on probably our last free Friday night for the next several months? Never,” Joey says with a laugh.

“The Uber’s just arrived, let’s go,” Letty says, ushering us out the door. You’d really think she would be our team captain, but while she loves bossing everyone around in her personal life, she has zero desire on the field. That’s her time to play without any pretence clouding her fun.

The Uber pulls up to the club, its neon lights flickering like distant stars in the dark. We thank the driver and slip out, joining the line that curves toward the entrance. The air outside is cool; wind whipping past causes goosebumps to litter my skin. I focus my attention on the little bumps, smoothing my palm over my forearm, doing my best to block out the chatter of the crowd surrounding me. It feels too overstimulating, but I know that once we’re inside, it’ll be a nice reprieve from the heavy weight of my thoughts.

People-watching has always been something that effectively fills the spaces in my racing mind, allowing me to shut off the fire hose of too many emotions blasting me in the face.

The bouncer barely glances at us before stepping aside, letting us into the suffocating, dimly lit interior.

The club is alive with noise—voices, laughter, and the constant thrum of the bass that seems to seep into every corner. The air inside is stifling, heavy with sweat and perfume, and the crowd presses in from all sides. Bodies move to the rhythm,hands raised, faces lit by the unpredictable flashes of strobe lights. It’s chaotic, like trying to navigate a dream that won’t sit still—something I know all too well.

We make our way through the crowd, finally finding a booth in the back, where the noise dulls just enough to catch our breath. The air here is cooler but still thick, and the darkness wraps around us, a welcome contrast to the dizzying energy of the dancefloor. We pile into the booth, our laughter cutting through the haze as we settle in, trying to find our place in this madness.

“Hey, ladies, I’m Shamir. What can I get you to drink?” a handsome guy I recognise from campus asks us.

“I’ll have a vodka martini, shaken,” I say, forcing a smile that feels more like a stretch than anything genuine. I’m acutely aware of how standoffish I must seem, though it doesn’t bother me much; I’m not looking to make friends outside of my inner circle. But Shamir’s always been kind to me, offering a quick smile whenever our paths cross, so it feels like the least I can do to not outright glare at him.

He returns my smile with one that feels genuine, far more convincing than mine ever was, his cheeks darkening with a blush, and he quickly averts his gaze before moving on to take the rest of our orders.

Should you really be drinking?The nagging voice in the back of my head asks, a voice that sounds all too familiar to Rachelle’s, so I welcome it with open arms despite the pang it causes in my chest or the way it twists my stomach in knots. I know I don’t need to respond, it’s not like she’s here, but I start my rant anyway I like to have a drink here or there, but I promise, I avoid overdoing it if I’m with the wrong crowd. I don’t love feeling out of control, as you very well know.Especially since I already feel that way half of the time, but I know my girls will keep me safe. Between Adhira’s no-nonsense attitude,Letty’s ability to clear a room with a single look, and Chelsea’s mama bear instincts, I know I have nothing to worry about.

“Oh shit,” Chelsea whispers. “Is that the men’s rugby team?” she asks, signalling toward the bar with her chin.

A groan slips past my lips. “It sure is,” I whine.

“How is that a bad thing? I fully intend to be riding one of those juicy thighs before the night is over,” Chelsea clucks, her Southern drawl making an appearance.

“I don’t love the idea of a bunch of men who are essentially my dad’s indentured servants watching my every move at a club and potentially reporting back to him about my…extracurriculars,” I mutter, shifting in my seat.

“Your father is fully aware that not only are you an adult, but you’re definitely not a virgin. I assure you, the man isn’t keeping tabs on you. I’m gonna go dance, do as you please.” She rolls her eyes, pushing me out of the seat and heading straight toward the dance floor.

My eyes land on Rafael, unable to tear my gaze away as I commit every inch of him to memory. His broad shoulders threaten to tear the satin material of his tight-fitting button down, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and thick veins run the length of his tan and taught muscular forearms. I catch a glimpse of his firm, round ass and wide thighs stretching his black trousers, but the sight is gone too soon as he slides onto a leather barstool, dipping his head for one of his teammates to speak into his ear.

His posture turns rigid, and the teammate who I recognise as Jelani Hazzel flicks his gaze toward me. I’m quick to duck my chin and slide back into the booth, doing my best to focus on any one of the hundreds of people in the crowded club besideshim.

The attempt becomes more and more futile as the hours pass by, my inhibitions lowering with every martini Shamir brings me.

I’m three martinis deep and absolutely feeling it. I hadn’t anticipated drinking so much, but without the dance floor to keep me occupied, I fell into a pattern of drinking to keep my hands and mouth busy.

I’ve been watching my friends dance for hours now, sulking in this booth, not wanting to find myself too close to any of the rugby players.Is that really what you’re doing back here?That same voice questions, and I roll my eyes, hating that my inner monologue sounds so much like my sister had.

Unfortunately, no, that is not theonlyreason. I’d prefer to hover back here than have my new coach running his mouth to my dad. It isn’t that I’m embarrassed by my actions, it’s more that if he’s going to know about them,Iwant to be the one to tell him.

And on that note, I reach into my back pocket, tugging my mobile free, typing out a message to the man in question.

CHAPTER FIVE

FRIDAY, MARCH 21

From the momentJelani pointed out that the ladies,my ladies, are at the same club as us, I knew my night wouldn’t have a shot in hell at being as relaxing as I’d hoped.

I’ve had so much pent-up energy with all the changes wearing down on me, the rugby season in full swing, coaching a team that I have no right to be involved with, and the upcoming charity event. I’d been hoping to have a couple beers, chat with my friends and let loose for the night.

But when I saw Chelsea, Letty, and Adhira sauntering out onto the dance floor, I had two immediate responses.

The first was that I should start praying to a higher power to convince the guys to leave so I don’t have to watch my teammates flirt shamelessly, and the second was to look forher.

I knew where to find her, tucked away in a booth, sipping on a martini. As the night continued and my hopes of leaving here soon died, so had my resolve. I’ve been peering over my shoulder to steal glances at Elise, my jaw aching from grinding my teeth together. A woman as stunning andoff limitsas her shouldn’t have tits I could bury my face in and an ass I’d love to take a bite out of. It’swrongof me to even think these things, but I have never been considered the moral one of any group. That’s precisely how Carlos found his way into the absolute mess I’d created for him, and if I value my sanity, I’ll keep my eyes trainedanywherebut at her.

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